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A/N: Pretty much on schedule… given the ungodly hour I still consider this week-end. I ended up with much more material in this chapter than I had anticipated, and made a few cuts I am not sure I'm alright with leaving out of the book entirely (really, how do true authors part with scenes and stories they love for the sake of moving the plot along)… I may end up putting some of the cut scenes back in the story in Chapter 39.

Enjoy 'The Godson', and please read and review!

My responses to those who reviewed for Chapter 37 are at the end, as usual. I shall do my best to get Chapter 39 up in the next week or so.

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

Chapter 38: The Godson

'Nothing to report,' Minerva said, shrugging off her cloak as she entered the headmaster's low-lit bedchamber very late on the last Tuesday in March. 'I did a full sweep of the castle, and Severus handled the grounds and the edges of the forest. I checked in with Remus before I came up as well. He states that Pettigrew has not made an appearance on that map.'

Her nostrils flared a bit as she said it, and Albus almost smiled at what he knew was thinly veiled disapproval that such an item had been aiding their erstwhile mischief makers… even though the offence had occurred so many years ago.

Aloud, he sighed. 'Not entirely unexpected,' he admitted. 'There has been no sign the whole of the week.'

Minerva rubbed her hands together against the chill of the room. She was frowning. 'How can you be certain, Albus, that Pettigrew is even still at Hogwarts?'

Albus raised an eyebrow. 'You doubt Sirius' version of events?' he asked, surprised.

Minerva shook her head. 'Not his account of the Potters' deaths,' she clarified. 'But… we have no real evidence that Pettigrew remains at the school. We are operating on faith in Sirius' instincts and the word of a cat.'

Albus truly did smile now. 'Rather hypocritical, my dear. The word of cats is often wise,' he quipped. 'Why I myself have found –'

'Albus, don't catch me out,' Minerva groaned, rolling her eyes. 'You know precisely what I meant.'

'I do,' the headmaster assured her before her irritation could truly grow. 'Forgive the joke. But I do think Sirius is right, in this. Peter has nowhere to run at the moment. He has no friends among the Death Eaters… they have as much cause for vengeance as Sirius himself. He will hardly go to Voldemort empty handed. And he believes, for now, that Sirius is the only person who realises the truth – and also that this entire castle is hunting Sirius Black. In Pettigrew's mind, there can be no safer place to hide.'

'Then why hasn't he shown on the map?' Minerva countered. 'Why haven't any of our patrols successfully located him?'

'As to that,' Albus said heavily, I have no idea.'

She bit at her lip in anxiety. 'I shan't stay,' she decided, picking her cloak back up again. 'I wish to be on hand for the Tower…'

'Of course,' Albus agreed. He set the book he'd been reading down, standing to kiss her goodnight. 'I shall see you in the morning.'

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It was an odd start to the Easter holidays.

The week had started out alright, at least at first. Albus had informed him on Monday afternoon that he and Hagrid had won Hagrid's case with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures – much to his, Hermione and Ron's relief. Hagrid was in such a good mood about the whole thing that he'd given them a lesson on Billywigs – a wonderful treat when compared to the Flobberworms that had plagued the weeks leading up to the hearing date. Hagrid kept them in a glass box while he lectured, not wanting the class to go into a fit of giddiness that would leave them unable to concentrate… but it was still an enjoyable lesson.

By the end of the week, however, Harry wondered whether getting stung might have been a better option. At least then if his world was turning on its end, he would have been too blissful to notice.

'What a day Hermione's had, eh?' Ron muttered to him as they made their way out of their last lesson before the holiday. Ron's voice was a bit more cheerful than Harry thought he might have been otherwise… for though he hadn't been stung by a Billywig, he had suffered Harry's distraction in the form of a bit-too-powerful Cheering Charm.

Harry nodded in agreement.

It had started that morning, following their second Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the week. After the lecture on Chimeras (which, thankfully, Hagrid hadn't managed to bring specimens in for), they'd been on the way back up to the castle when they'd been stopped by Draco Malfoy and his usual Slytherin gang. Malfoy – who had been in an unusually sour temper since the decision from the Ministry – had broken the news that his father was appealing the verdict to the Wizengamot directly, meaning Hagrid and Dumbledore would have to return to the Ministry in June. With Albus' involvement, he would have to recuse himself as Chief Warlock… and Malfoy was certain his father would be victorious as a result. Harry and Ron had been engaged in a shouting match that was drawing close to blows… when Hermione interrupted by punching Malfoy clear across the face, hard enough to bloody his nose.

Ron and Harry had had to drag her off before Crabbe and Goyle recovered enough to retaliate.

She had been in a temper the whole of the morning. When Professor Trelawney had insulted her in Divination after luncheon, she'd walked straight out of the classroom with a promise never to return to the subject. Harry had thought she'd lost her mind – or perhaps was joking (it was April Fools' Day, after all… he had the residual glitter in his hair from the Weasley twins' impromptu midnight birthday party to prove it). But Hermione had not returned to the lesson, and he and Ron had found her books topping the overflowing rubbish bin at the edge of the ladder on their exit.

They'd both missed Arithmancy. Harry had waited so long in their usual disused classroom for her to appear with the Time-Turner that he'd been fifteen minutes late for Charms and had to offer a hurried excuse to Professor Flitwick as he dashed to his seat. Hermione had never turned up for Charms, either.

By now, he was beyond perplexed. He was seriously concerned.

'Do you think something's happened to her?' he asked Ron in a low voice as they climbed the steps. 'I mean… Malfoy, or –'

'Relax, mate, she probably just fancied a kip,' Ron said with a shrug. 'You looked at her lately? Easter holiday can't come at a better time – she's about ready to keel over, I'm telling you.'

Harry was about to retort that Hermione was more likely to marry Draco Malfoy than miss a lesson to have a mid-afternoon lie-down… but he stopped himself. Ron was now humming tunelessly – and it was obvious the Cheering Charm's effects were still too fresh for sarcasm to make any impact at all.

And – to his shock – Ron appeared to be right… though Harry rather doubted Hermione's sleep was voluntary. They re-entered the Tower to find her snoring lightly, her head resting on her enormous Ancient Runes textbook and a plethora of bushy hair. He prodded her gently.

'Hermione?'

She slept on, mumbling a bit as she shifted her head away from the annoyance.

'Oi – Hermione,' Harry tried again, a bit louder.

This time, she woke with a start.

'Wh – what?' she muttered, pulling hair away from her lips. 'Harry? What is it – what have we got next?'

'Nothing,' he answered with a small smile. He sank into the chair next to her, Ron falling into the one on the end. 'That's it until after the holidays. We've a few hours before supper though, if you want to rest somewhere more comfortable.'

'Wh – no, that can't be right,' Hermione said in a high-pitched voice. She began shuffling the many tomes stacked around her. 'We've… there's still Flitwick's, isn't there –'

'You slept through it,' Ron offered helpfully. 'Missed the whole lesson.'

Harry shot him an irritated scowl. He would have chastised the blunt remark… if it weren't his fault in the first place that Ron was in this state.

Hermione gasped. 'I've – what? Oh no!' she moaned. 'I forgot to got to Charms! And Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes!' she realised. Her face paled as she chewed at her lip, then she turned a furious glare on Harry. 'How could you not tell me?' she demanded. 'You ought to have – oh, what am I going to do? I can't believe I forgot!'

'Forgot?' Ron repeated with a half-snort, half-giggle. 'How could you forget? You're Hermione Granger!' He giggled again, clearly missing the dangerous glint in her eye. 'And keep your hair on – it was only Charms. Divination was second to last today, remember? I reckon you're starting to crack up a bit, you know…'

'Ronald Weas –'

'Don't,' Harry said in an undertone as Ron distracted himself once more with that tuneless song. 'He's… I overdid my Cheering Charm, a bit. He can't help it.'

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

'And – he's not wrong, Hermione,' Harry continued. 'Not that you're losing it!' he backtracked hastily as she swelled with indignation. 'It's just… don't you think it's all been a bit much for you, lately? You're barely sleeping, not eating much… you could just drop something, you know.'

'I dropped Divination not three hours ago,' she pointed out waspishly.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I mean drop something that's actually taxing your time, Hermione. You can't honestly tell me Trelawney's work has got you this run down.'

Hermione bit fretfully at her lip. 'I… I just can't, Harry,' she insisted. 'There's too much to learn – and it's all important! You think people like – like Dumbledore get to where they are because they took it easy at school?' she challenged.

'Yes,' said Harry seriously. 'Well, not easy,' he amended. 'But Dumbledore didn't take twelve subjects either in his third year, Hermione. He told me himself he never studied Divination or Muggle Studies at school.'

She crossed her arms, looking sour. 'Bill and Percy Weasley both managed to juggle twelve O.W.L. subjects,' she pointed out. 'You don't think I'm as clever as –'

'It's got nothing to do with intelligence,' Harry said firmly. He chanced a glance at Ron's seat again, but the red-head had wandered over to watch Fred and George's epic Exploding Snap tournament. He turned back to Hermione.

'Bill Weasley spent so much time focused on books through his fifth year that he went into Curse-breaking to blow off all his pent-up steam,' he informed her. 'And Percy does almost nothing but school… and even he dropped Muggle Studies after fourth year. His father helped him cram the subject over the summer so he could sit the O.W.L. Ask Ron about it, if you don't believe me.'

'I believe you,' Hermione said slowly. 'But I just don't…'

'And, Hermione,' Harry added, looking very seriously at her now, 'Bill and Percy Weasley… they didn't have the sort of lives you, Ron and I have, you know? Rescuing Wizarding artefacts from the hands of Voldemort… trying to sort out that Chamber last year… Sirius Black this year… there's just – there're other things, in our world. And I'm sorry,' he added with a self-conscious shrug. 'Because it's mostly my fault your life's like that in the first place. But so long as you keep hanging around me, I have a feeling that life will keep being like that.'

'Oh, Harry,' she sighed, her expression melting a little. She reached out a hand and found his, squeezing hard. 'You know I wouldn't trade it – any of it – for a thousand O.W.L.s,' she promised him. 'And… I promise I'll think about it, alright? After this term is over…'

'Oi – Harry, Hermione!' Ron called, waving his arms from the centre of the common room. 'Come and have a go!'

Harry dropped Hermione's hand with a small smile.

'You play,' Hermione said, nodding him toward Ron. 'I'd better go and find Flitwick and the others before supper…'

Harry grimaced. 'Er, could you tell Professor Vector I'm sorry as well?' he asked guiltily. 'I couldn't go back, without you… Don't apologise!' he added at once as Hermione's face fell. 'You had a rough day – I get it. But just tell her I'll make up the work, if you would.'

'Of course,' she said with a nod.

She snatched up her bag and made toward the portrait hole at a trot. Harry had just started toward Ron and the gathered crowd of would-be Exploding Snap champions when he heard –

'Potter!'

His heart sank as he spun toward the portrait hole. Minerva was standing there, her expression unreadable. Hermione – just inches from her on her way out – had the same devastated look of guilt on her face that Harry was certain appeared (perhaps muted) on his own. He had not anticipated she would hear quite so quickly that they'd skived, even if unintentionally.

Minerva beckoned him again with the crook of a finger.

'Er – later,' he said vaguely toward Ron.

He turned for the door instead, following his Head of House's retreating back.

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Remus finished his lessons on Friday afternoon by two o'clock. For the first time since he had begun teaching at Hogwarts, the end of the day could not come soon enough.

He had kept the map open surreptitiously on a corner of his desk the entire time – as he had all week. He was becoming obsessive. He worried, slightly, that he was not paying sufficient attention to his pupils, darting glances at the parchment every few minutes like he had some irritating tick. He had stopped eating breakfast and lunch in the Great Hall, worried that the hundreds of bodies and constant conversation would distract him from his perusal. He would have had supper in his quarters too, if Minerva had not put her foot down.

When he was not teaching, he stared for hours at the moving dots… vaguely eating whatever the elves had sent up for his solitary meals or sipping at tea when he grew tired. His rest was broken and incomplete, so often he had woken himself gasping in the night and lunched for the parchment on his bedside table. He was panicky in conversation that lasted more than five minutes. He took baths instead of showers – so he could keep his head out as long as possible. And he worried, constantly, that the minutes he was not staring at the map were the ones Pettigrew spent flitting about the castle.

But the odd thing was, he had never spotted him. Not once since they had begun their patrol. Everyone was certain that he remained at the school… yet he couldn't be here, if he was not on the map. Not unless Peter had succeeded where the other three had not, and found some hideaway they had never known existed.

Severus, to his slight annoyance, popped round nearly every evening after supper and between his own patrols. He never engaged in any chat and seemed to find the need to visit almost painfully vexing… but he spent hours every night peering at the map across the sitting room table from Remus, refusing refreshment and glaring at the moving dots of ink. He did not even bother to dash out when they glimpsed a student or two out of bounds; for he, like Remus, was fixated on the chance that Pettigrew would show himself. When he finally departed each night, it was always with a scathing comment that he did not think Remus was truly putting the effort in, and perhaps he would speak to the headmaster about reassigning the duty to peruse the map.

Remus never replied. There hardly seemed to be a point.

Today, however, he was not returning to his quarters and his solitary watch. Instead, he'd stowed the Marauder's Map in a pocket of his robes, grabbed a bottle of inexpensive Firewhisky from his meagre stores, and headed down the familiar path to the Whomping Willow. He glanced furtively around as he reached the outskirts of the branches, checking to ensure that no wandering students might catch his activities. When the coast appeared clear, he flicked his wand at a stray bow upon the grass. It floated obediently to poke the familiar knot at the base of the trunk, and the tree stomped its vicious flailing. Remus took one last glance around, and he ducked hurriedly into the hollow.

'Sirius,' he greeted the man as he entered the dimly lit room from the tunnel.

The house was in better shape than it had been in decades – Dumbledore had clearly been by, or at the least sent some of the castle elves to see to the repairs. There was not a speck of dust on any of the surfaces any longer. The vicious destruction of the various furnishings had been mended or replaced, and a fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Remus was certain, should he venture upstairs, that Albus would have seen to it the two small bedrooms were likewise made liveable, and probably provided Sirius with an array of clothing and necessities. A half-eaten tray set on one of the end tables evidenced that someone had certainly stocked the kitchen, for the first time in the house's history.

'Remus,' Sirius replied. He was seated on the now spotless sofa, and set down a copy of the Prophet to stand as Remus entered the room. He was bathed and dressed in new, gleaming black robes – looking all around much better kept than he had the night they'd been reunited. Even so, the handsome robes and haircut could hide neither his still emaciated form nor the flicker of haunting that pervaded behind his eyes.

Sirius swept his arms, indicating the room with half a smile. 'Cleans up rather well, doesn't it?' he joked.

Remus gave a small laugh. 'You'd never have thought it played host to a most fearsome monster for seven years,' he quipped back.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'I resent that,' he said in a mock hurt tone. 'You might have been fearsome, Remus, but I am the second most dangerous wizard in the country.'

'Touché,' Remus relented. He dug the bottle of Firewhisky out of his robes, holding it aloft. 'What say we drink to it?'

Sirius grinned. He flopped back down onto the sofa, patting the cushion next to him. 'I've hardly tasted a good spirit in twelve years,' he bemoaned.

'Well, don't set your hopes too high,' Remus cautioned. 'I couldn't get Ogden's finest on such short notice… this is the cheap stuff I'm afraid.'

'Anything'll be better than I remember,' Sirius said with a shrug. The words were said in jest, but Remus could hear the sadness beneath them. He plunked the bottle of whisky down on the table and conjured two glasses. Sirius set the bottle to pour with a flick of his own new wand.

'Getting the hang of it again, then?' Remus asked, nodding at the polished handle as Sirius stowed the wand again.

'Like riding a broomstick,' Sirius said with another small smile, raising his tumbler.

Remus cocked an eyebrow as he took his own glass from the table. They clinked, and each drank deeply. The whisky burned Remus' throat on its descent… definitely nothing as fine as Albus generally kept on hand.

'Well… perhaps not precisely,' Sirius admitted, smacking his lips in appreciation of the drink. 'But I've been shut up here the better part of the week, haven't I? Had to do something to pass the time besides stew in my own frustration.'

'What was it like?' Remus asked, honestly curious. 'I've never spent more than a day without my wand before… not since I was eleven. I can't imagine.'

A shadow passed over Sirius' face. 'It's not easy,' he confessed. 'Especially at first. Your magic wants an outlet – everyone knows that. I can do some things wandlessly, of course, but I was never much bothered about learning true wandless casting when we were young. And it isn't the same, anyway. The moment they snapped my wand was the most devastating thing that ever happened to me, next to losing the people I loved. They don't do it right away. They take your wand, naturally, as soon as you go in. But for most it gets stored somewhere, and it's returned when you leave the prison. They don't snap it unless you're given a life sentence.'

He paused, taking a larger gulp from his whisky. Remus stayed silent as he refilled the glass.

'I don't know how long it was before that day came,' Sirius admitted quietly. 'A week, maybe two. I know it was morning because they'd brought a tray in an hour or so before. Three Ministry officials came down, and a few of the guards. They silenced me at once so I couldn't interrupt, and then they read my sentence off a little slip of parchment. One of them pulled my wand out of a pocket, and he snapped it in two right in front of me. He put the pieces in a little box and they walked right out again.'

Remus shuddered.

'It's almost like castration, I think, though luckily I've never experienced the comparison,' Sirius said with the hint of a wan smile. 'You feel like the very essence of who you are was just destroyed. They've taken something from you… something deeply personal and irreplaceable. They've removed you forever from Wizarding society. It is more exiling than the prison itself. Then come the practical implications: the effect on your magical core.

'For a month or so, even through the rest of the awfulness, I had this pent-up excess of magic; like my body was tearing itself apart. But that fades after a time, with the Dementors around. They drain all the fight from you. I remember welcoming it for a while… it was almost a relief, like you were being numbed. I probably would have been lost completely, had I not had my innocence to cling to even in that onslaught of misery. That was like a tiny spark – a flicker that the Dementors could not put out. It was not a happy memory and it wasn't truly emotion – it was just a fact. Even when I welcomed the numbness, they could not take that from me and I could not destroy it myself. Over time, as the years passed and I grew used to my lot, the spark remained… grew into a flame, sometimes strong enough that I could push the Dementors' effects away, for a time, and let the fire take me. Then, of course, everything else happened.'

He shrugged again. 'Anyway… I was speaking of the wand.'

He cleared his throat. 'Your powers atrophy in prison, from the Dementors and the lack of use. I've done a bit of wandless spellwork since I escaped, a few curses when I had Harry's wand back in the summer and a few spells with that boy's wand the night I tried to get Peter in the Tower… but everything's harder than it was before. It's better, though, with this.' He lifted the new wand again, spinning it lightly in his fingers. 'This one's mine, you know? It recognises me, and it channels the magic more easily. There's still a ways to go, I reckon… but for the first time in years, I don't think it's impossible.'

'I'm sure it isn't,' Remus said fairly. 'It's like nursing an injury, I suppose. You have to work it back up to where it was before. You'll get there.'

Sirius sighed, leaning back into the cushion with his whisky. His hair, still almost shoulder-length even with its recent trim, fell sideways to cover one eye as he flopped; making him look much more like the young man he had been when last they'd sat like this, drinking together. The thought made Remus sad.

'Well, it's better now than it was on Monday. So that's something at least,' Sirius said. He stretched with a yawn, cracking his neck.

'Time for a kip?' Remus mocked. 'Or are you just this out of practise?'

He poured another round as he spoke, smirking.

'Tosser,' Sirius grumbled. He swiped the glass back off the table. 'Wouldn't have thought you went in for mid-afternoon drinks anymore,' he noted over the rim of his tumbler. 'Don't you have students to attend to?'

'Not at the moment,' said Remus. He gestured at the Marauder's Map, which he'd laid out between them on the table. 'This is my only task now, until Easter Holidays are over. My last lesson let out at two.'

'Hmm,' Sirius mused. He took a moment to glance over the map again, but Pettigrew's dot remained stubbornly absent. 'How do you like it – this teaching lot?'

'It's great,' Remus said earnestly. 'It's what I've always wanted, really… and more than I ever thought I'd be able to do. Defence is an interesting subject; the students are fairly enthusiastic, and the lessons are sufficiently challenging.'

'I'll bet you're a good teacher,' Sirius said with a smile. 'Patient… approachable. You're not as wont to lose your temper with the little toerags as I might be.'

Remus gave a modest shrug. 'I do my best.'

They sipped at their drinks for a while, watching the fire grow lower. Even without conversation there was a comfort and familiarly in the company. Though Remus kept a wary eye on the map; though he knew they were far from in the clear; though he knew the man next to him was still hunted ceaselessly by most of the Wizarding World… he felt, just at this moment, like something in his own universe had finally righted itself.

Sirius laughed suddenly, breaking the silence as he poured yet another measure into each of their glasses. The bottle of Firewhisky was halfway gone.

'I never thought I'd have this again,' he said.

Remus raised an eyebrow. 'What? Cheap Firewhisky?'

'No,' Sirius said with a smirk. 'You. I never thought we would do this again… that we would ever repair our friendship.'

Remus felt slightly awkward. He set his Firewhisky down on the table, frowning.

'You know, I am sorry,' he said quietly. 'That I ever suspected you in the first place.'

'Remus…' Sirius started.

'No,' Remus said. 'Hear me out, because I need to say this.'

He waited, but Sirius was silent now; watching him. Remus took a breath and began again.

'I should have known. I know you better than you know yourself, Sirius. I should have realised – even if nobody else did. I should have had faith in you. And I should have known that you would never betray Lily and James. That you would never hand Harry to Voldemort. I will never forgive myself for failing to see –'

'Remus, don't,' Sirius interrupted. His own face was oddly guilt-stricken now. 'It wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself. It was war, Remus. None of us had our heads on straight. And Remus… I thought it was you,' he admitted in a whisper.

Remus looked up, surprise and something of hurt on his face.

'I'm sorry,' Sirius said. 'Honestly. I should have known better too. I should have known that you would never do such a thing… and I will never forgive myself… because my unspeakable error was what led to James and Lily using Peter Pettigrew as their Secret-Keeper. Your mistake cost nothing, Remus. But mine? Mine cost two of my best friends their lives.'

Remus reached out a hand, squeezing Sirius' forearm. 'It wasn't your fault,' he parroted back. 'And I don't blame you, Sirius. You're right: it was war. Everything was confusing, dangerous. It could have been any of us that had turned, for all we knew. It could have been me… you had as much reason to suspect that as you did Peter's treachery. None of us were any the wiser. Not me, not you, and not James and Lily. And now… what's past is past, Sirius. All we can do is look to the future.'

Sirius smiled slightly at that. 'I'm meeting him tonight, you know,' he said, excitement clear in his voice.

Remus did not need to ask to whom he was referring. He smiled. 'Harry is a wonderful young man,' he said. 'You'll like him.'

'I love him,' Sirius said.

Like everything else about this man, the statement was unqualified. It came easily. He said it bluntly – a fact he was utterly certain of. As if the twelve intervening years since last he'd known Harry made no difference at all. As if he was popping in for their regular Sunday dinner, absent only for hours, or perhaps a few days. He was so certain… just like he was with everything. It was the biggest difference between Sirius and Remus, really.

Remus lived his entire life in caution. He questioned everything. Perhaps it was a by-product of existence as a monster, or perhaps it was the result of a life spent losing everyone he'd ever loved and knowing he would never have a family of his own… but Remus was guarded in every emotion. He was wary: of others, and of himself most of all.

Sirius was not that way. He never had been. Everything about Sirius was intense. Sirius was bold, sometimes reckless to a fault. He was sure. Even though Sirius had had a difficult life as well; had lost just as many and been through just as dark, very little had ever tempered his resolve as it did Remus'. Sirius lived his emotions – like everything else – in the extreme. He loved, and he hated. And he very rarely confused the two.

Sirius and James Potter had always been similar that way. They'd always had that same sense of self-assuredness; of confidence. Perhaps that was why James and Sirius had been even closer to each other than the four of them were to one another. James had identified with that part of Sirius – had found brotherhood with it. Remus, meanwhile, had always felt for Peter… Peter, like him, longed for inclusion. Longed for acceptance. Always feared that, eventually, someone would see he was not worthy.

Perhaps that was why Remus had not been able to see that Pettigrew had turned traitor… because he'd always had a soft spot for the boy just trying to be good enough. He'd understood what that was… and just how lonely it could be.

'Of course you do,' Remus said out loud. 'He is your godson.'

'Yes…' Sirius said, watching the flames again. 'My godson. I know I can't really think about it. Not until Wormtail is gone. Not until we get him. I shouldn't really think about what might come after. But… it'll be great, you know? Once I'm cleared…'

His face brightened further at the prospect, and Remus smiled as well.

'With Regulus gone, I'm the last surviving Black,' Sirius went on. 'I'll have loads of gold… I can get us a house in the country – you can come! You can live with us, if you want to. Big place, with lots of space. We'll build a pitch in the grounds for Quidditch… and I'll stock the liquor cabinets with something a few notches up from this swill,' he added, brandishing the tumbler of Firewhisky with a roguish wink. 'You, me, Harry… we could be a family, Moony.'

Remus' smile grew strained. 'It sounds lovely, Sirius,' he said, cautiously. 'But… have you really thought this through?'

Sirius frowned. 'What do you mean?' he asked, his voice gaining just a bit of an edge. 'Thought what through?'

'Sirius,' Remus began, 'How much… how much do you know, about Harry? What has Albus told you?'

Sirius set his tumbler down again, turning on the sofa to face him. 'Not much,' he admitted. 'He… he told me he's a good student, talented. He said he's good at Quidditch, like James was. I know he didn't have an easy time of it with those Muggles…'

'No,' Remus cut in. 'He did not. Sirius – they were awful to him. I've been in that house… they treated him like scum, Sirius. They neglected him, kept him downtrodden, used him like a servant. They made him sleep in a cupboard the first ten years he lived there. They never told him about the Magical world. They tried to stifle his magic – keep him from coming to Hogwarts at all. And two summers ago, when Albus paid a call, he found Vernon Dursley had struck Harry hard enough to fracture his cheek. That's when he brought him back to the castle permanently.'

Sirius' face grew hard. He jumped up from the sofa, brandishing his new wand. For a moment, Remus could see the flash of Azkaban take over those grey eyes… and he fleetingly wondered if Sirius might curse him for relaying the information.

'I'll kill them,' Sirius spat, striding about the room in temper. 'I'll KILL them! Lay a hand on Harry… dare to –'

Remus knew the anger – he had felt it too. And he knew why it affected Sirius so acutely… not only because of his feelings for his godson, but also because Sirius too knew what it was to be ostracised, beaten… hated by your own family.

'Padfoot, calm down,' Remus insisted. He caught a handful of the new black robes as the man swept past him in his ranting pace, and yanked him firmly back to the sofa. 'The Dursleys are not your concern.'

'Not my concern?' Sirius sputtered. 'When they've –'

'Albus has it under control,' Remus insisted. 'Harry will never be alone in that house again. I told you this because I think –'

'He should never be in that house again at all!' Sirius growled. 'How could they even consider sending him back, ever? Sod whether or not he's chaperoned… I will not allow –'

'The situation is complex,' Remus cut in. 'You should discuss it with the headmaster, he knows more than I could explain… but there are legitimate reasons that Harry requires their continued involvement in his life, even if it is for but a supervised week each year. Lily's sacrifice will not continue to protect him without regular reinforcement, and Albus is certain that her protection is vital to Harry's safety.'

Sirius ground his teeth in anger. Remus could tell he wanted to continue on the subject… but he moved on all the same. He wanted Sirius to understand – to really understand – before this all spiralled out of control.

So he continued. He told Sirius what had happened since Harry had come to Hogwarts – what he knew of it, at any rate. He explained about the Philosopher's stone. He recounted the Chamber of Secrets' opening the previous year, and how Harry had slain Slytherin's monster and faced a teenage Voldemort. And he spoke of what he'd witnessed since the previous June… of Harry's conviction in his struggle against the Dementors, the conversations they'd had about his parents' deaths and Sirius' alleged involvement, the staggering skill he'd shown in defence and wandless magic.

'So, you're telling me he's damaged, from those wretched Muggles and all this insanity he's had to deal with these past three years?' Sirius asked at last, looking slightly lost as Remus finished his onslaught of information. Their bottle of Firewhisky was nearly dregs now, the fire burning so low it matched the hue of the setting sun through the cracks in the boarded windows.

'He's not damaged,' Remus disagreed. 'He's actually remarkably put together, all things considered. He is an incredible child. But he has been through a lot, Sirius. He has faced more in thirteen years than most will face in a lifetime.'

'He was never bound for an easy life,' Sirius lamented. 'Born under that kind of stress… Voldemort out for his whole family. And now – he's all they talk about, you know.'

He looked up, his eyes darkening again. 'The Death Eaters,' he clarified. 'The ones that have it within them to speak at all, that is. They mumble to each other through the walls, and through the bars on their doors… I put them into two categories, while I listened. Some want nothing but Harry dead, for defeating Voldemort at all. The others… they hope he will be a powerful Dark wizard too. They think, when he comes of age, he will free them all – lead the charge to the new world order they thought they could get through Voldemort.'

'Harry is not Dark,' Remus said quietly. 'It is not in his nature, even with everything he has suffered. He is like Lily, like James… and like Albus. He is good, Sirius.'

'Of course he is,' Sirius agreed at once. 'You think I believed it? But that's my point… everyone is going to make his life difficult, always. Voldemort will hunt him, and the Death Eaters will hunt him, and he'll never break free from any of it. He'll never be able to reverse that scar on his forehead. He needs a place he can get away from that, don't you see? He needs to have a bit of fun.'

'Harry needs stability, Sirius,' Remus cautioned. 'He is only thirteen.'

'I know,' Sirius said, his voice excited again even through the lingering rage. 'Don't you remember what we were like at that age, Remus? All the mad nonsense we got up to?'

'I do,' he said with the ghost of a smile.

'We could have it again, with Harry,' Sirius went on. 'We could give him that part of life.'

'Sirius, Harry is not like we were, at that age,' said Remus. 'And he is not James, Sirius.'

He said the last very quietly. Sirius' face fell all the same.

'I know he isn't James, Remus,' he grumbled. 'But he is James' son. He's my godson.'

'Yes,' Remus said seriously. 'And he needs parental figures looking out for him. He needs love and fun… he needs the normalcy of growing up. But he also needs discipline, and guidance, and someone to help him navigate safely through life. As you have already pointed out – he is never going to be a normal boy. He needs a different sort of mentor; a different type of parenting. And you cannot be that person, Sirius, if you are trying to make him into your best mate.'

'I'm not going to try to –'

'You've been through a lot,' Remus said, even more cautiously. 'A lot. And it's natural that it will take time before you are –'

'I'm not cracked!' Sirius said hotly.

'I never said you were,' Remus contradicted. 'But you're not ready, Sirius. You aren't ready to be what Harry needs – all of what Harry needs – in that sense. There's no way you could be… not right now.'

'Why are you being like this?!' Sirius asked in frustration. He drained the last of his Firewhisky and set the tumbler back onto the low table with more force than necessary. 'I thought you'd be happy with this idea. I thought you'd want us all to be together: you, and me, and Harry…'

'I do,' Remus said vehemently. 'I do want that, Sirius. But right now… Harry has stability, for maybe the first time in his life. I think, when you meet him and talk to him… when you are dreaming about the future… you need to think about what's best for him, Sirius. I'm not saying to keep away – not at all. You should be a part of his life; a part of that future. You can be, you know, whatever official claim you have over him. But I think you need to consider that what's best for Harry might not be living in a country house with you.'

The words were harsh, and Remus felt badly as soon as he said them. He knew he was hurting Sirius saying these things… but somebody needed to – before Sirius got so far down this mental road that he only hurt himself and Harry more thoroughly in the aftermath. Remus, the werewolf, had spent his life knowing he was unfit for certain things; recognising that having a wife or children was not a path his condition could allow him to take. He'd had decades to come to terms with that reality. Sirius would have to stand in his truth with much less time to adjust… but it was just as important that he face it. Even now, sitting with him this afternoon… Remus knew Sirius was nowhere near ready for the responsibility of raising a teenager, let alone rearing Harry Potter. He needed to heal. He needed to focus, for a while at least, on himself. So Remus forced himself to give the tough advice, for he knew Sirius needed this truth as badly as Harry did.

Sirius was grinding his teeth again. Remus laid a hand gently on his arm, and took it as a good sign that the man did not throw it off.

'I think it is wonderful that you and Harry will have the chance to have a relationship again,' Remus told him honestly. 'I think you will be good for one another. And I… am more grateful than I can possibly say, Padfoot,' he added. 'To have you back again.'

Sirius nodded, offering a half smile though he did not speak an agreement. Remus thought that was all he was likely to get, tonight. And he knew it was time to leave his companion to his thoughts. He squeezed Sirius' arm once and stood, rummaging in the pocket of his robes for the other supplies he'd brought. He emerged with matching phials, and handed one to Sirius.

'Sober up,' he explained at Padfoot's raised eyebrow. 'Minerva won't let you within ten yards of Harry if you show up smelling like a pub.'

Sirius knocked back the phial without complaint. Remus bent to retrieve the Marauder's Map, giving it one last futile perusal before tucking it carefully into his cloak.

'I'll stop in again tomorrow,' he offered, making for the door. 'You can tell me how you get on with Harry.'

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To Harry's surprise, Minerva said nothing to Hermione about their truant behaviour. She merely nodded her head toward the portrait hole and made to leave, Harry following with a curious look for Hermione as he passed her frozen form in the professor's wake.

'Minerva?' he asked in confusion as they entered the deserted corridor. 'Look… I am sorry about Arithmancy. I couldn't help it. Hermione wasn't feeling well, I don't think. She couldn't meet me to go back, so I didn't have a choice, really.'

Minerva stopped, raising an eyebrow. 'What about Arithmancy?' she asked shrewdly.

Harry cringed. So she hadn't heard…

'Er… never mind,' he said quickly. 'I was confused, I suppose.'

To his shock, Minerva did not press him on the obvious lie.

'The headmaster needs to see you,' she said instead, continuing her brisk stride up the corridor.

'Er, okay.'

Though more confused than ever, Harry followed at her heels. He wondered if perhaps Professor Vector had gone straight to Dumbledore instead. Minerva did not say another word throughout the climb, and Harry's trepidation grew with the silence. When at last they reached the familiar door, Minerva knocked softly three times before pushing it ajar.

'Harry,' Albus greeted, walking out from behind his desk and opening his arms in welcome as they entered. 'Come – have a seat.'

Harry obeyed, still feeling as though he were missing something. Professor Vector was not in sight.

Minerva perched herself on the edge of the cushion next to him, while Albus took his usual armchair. Their expressions were rather like they had been the night they'd told him Sirius Black was an animagus. The sense of déjà vu did nothing to ease the growing roiling of his stomach.

'What is it?' Harry demanded.

'This is… not an easy conversation,' Albus hedged. 'But over the past week, certain information has come to light which both Minerva and I feel you have a right to know.'

Harry waited for the headmaster to continue.

'I have discovered Sirius Black,' he said after a moment.

Harry's heart contracted. 'You… you have?' he asked, amazed. 'Where? When?! Have you told the Ministry? Did the Dementors take him away?'

'No,' Albus said gently. 'I located him in the forest, several days ago. We had a long conversation in the hours that followed. Harry… he is not trying to kill you.'

'I knew it!' Harry muttered. He felt vindicated. 'What was he after, then? Was he trying to take me to Voldemort?'

'No,' the headmaster clarified, shaking his head. 'No… He escaped from Azkaban to come after Peter Pettigrew.'

Harry's confusion returned three-fold over. 'Peter Pettigrew?' he repeated dully. 'But… that's mad. Peter Pettigrew died. He killed him twelve years ago – right after he killed my parents.'

'No, Harry,' Albus said softly. 'He did not.'

'Did not what?' Harry retorted fiercely. 'Didn't kill my parents? Maybe not directly… but he sent Voldemort after him, didn't he? You told me so yourself! It comes to the same thing. And he did kill Peter Pettigrew – the whole street saw him do it. Even Fudge was there.'

'It is true that many people saw the Ulster street explode, and that twelve Muggles were killed,' Albus confirmed. 'It is not true, however, that Pettigrew died in the blast, as previously thought. Nor, indeed, did Sirius cause it.'

'I don't understand. What do you mean, he didn't cause it? And why do you keep calling him "Sirius"?' he asked, an oddly panicky feeling joining the bile in his stomach as he registered the continued use of the Christian name. 'He doesn't deserve the compliment…'

The headmaster sighed. 'Peter Pettigrew blew up that street, Harry,' he said. 'Peter Pettigrew killed those twelve people. He cut off his own finger, so that everyone would think him dead as well.'

'That's impossible,' Harry scoffed. 'Why would Pettigrew do that? Why would anyone?' He felt his anger rise higher yet again.

'He transformed,' Minerva cut in. 'Changed, into his Animagus form. He did it to escape into the sewer.'

Harry felt ill. Another of his parents friends who was not as he seemed? Another murderer?

'Are you saying,' he asked slowly, 'That Peter Pettigrew killed twelve people just so he could escape Sirius Black? So that Black couldn't murder him too, the way he'd killed my mum and dad? I thought he tracked Black down himself?!'

'No, Harry,' Dumbledore answered. 'That is the crux of the misconception. Pettigrew did not track Sirius down. Sirius tracked him down. Sirius Black never gave your parents up to Lord Voldemort. He went to Ulster that night to hunt Peter Pettigrew, because Peter betrayed them.'

Harry's vision suddenly tunnelled. It was like a huge weight had landed on his chest – pushed him off the edge of the world. He looked between the headmaster and Minerva, hoping one of them would take back the pronouncement. Because it did not make sense.

'What?' he choked out, when neither moved to do so. 'What do you mean? How can that be true? Everyone said – you said – that Sirius Black was my parents' Secret-Keeper. You told me how that charm works: nobody can betray the secret except the Secret-Keeper. So how could Peter have –'

'Peter was the Secret-Keeper, Harry,' Albus explained. 'It was a deception, meant to throw the Death Eaters in the wrong direction. Your parents and Sirius wanted the world to believe they'd chosen him – were hoping that Voldemort would think so as well, if the information on their use of the Fidelius Charm reached him. Sirius hoped to keep Peter and your parents both safe this way. But… he did not know; your parents did not know; I did not know that Peter Pettigrew had already switched sides. He gave your parents' location to Lord Voldemort – not Sirius.'

'But… but then why did he break out of Azkaban now?' Harry demanded, still looking for a way out of this ridiculous, insane explanation. 'Why has he been coming here, if he's looking for Peter Pettigrew? If Pettigrew really is alive? Why was he in Gryffindor Tower that night, if he wasn't trying to come after me? Or the Forest? Why does he want Pettigrew at all? If he was really innocent… if he didn't do any of it… then why didn't he tell anyone?'

'Because I did do it,' a new voice replied.

Harry whipped his head around. A man was coming down the spiralling staircase from the headmaster's personal quarters. The man's hair was shorter than he remembered; his clothing and his face far less filthy… but he was Sirius Black all the same.

Harry stiffened.

'It was my idea for your parents to use Peter Pettigrew instead,' Black continued. 'My mistake that got them killed. I have to put it right. And I came here, Harry, because Peter Pettigrew is here. I came to protect you.'

'Sirius,' Albus began, getting to his feet and looking slightly annoyed. 'I asked you to wait upstairs until I could –'

'What's the point, Albus?' Black interrupted him. 'He's going to have questions for me, anyway. Isn't it better to do this all together? And I… I can't wait any longer. I wanted to see him.'

He had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and he turned to face Harry. His face was lit up with a true smile.

But Harry could not return it. This did not make any sense… none of this made any sense.

'This is mad,' he choked out, looking between Albus and Minerva and refusing to meet the familiar grey eyes of Sirius Black. 'All of this. It can't be true – you know it can't.'

'It is true, Harry,' the headmaster said gently. 'I know it is a shock, believe me. But I also know that you deserve the truth. Just as I should have told you what we thought was the truth about Sirius much earlier, I need to tell you this now. We are – all of us – searching tirelessly for Peter Pettigrew. We will make this right.'

'I will get him,' Black vowed, his smile vanishing into a look of utter conviction. 'I will not let him near you, Harry. Not again.'

Harry's mind was in shambles. If he had been standing, he was certain he would have fallen by now. Or run.

'Pettigrew,' he repeated, still grasping for the sense. 'But how can he be here. Wouldn't someone have noticed? Even if he's an Animagus – Remus, or –'

'He is a rat,' Black explained. He made to sit on the sofa next to Harry. Harry scrambled away; fearful of the contact. Something twitched in Black's face, but he sat himself in an armchair opposite instead. 'He was in hiding these past twelve years, pretending to be a loveable pet. He was owned by your friend, Harry – the Weasley boy you share a dormitory with.'

Another blow seemed to hit Harry's stomach. He thought he might be sick, or perhaps pass out… He heard Albus mutter something vaguely at his ear… somebody's hands were on his shoulders. Before he could register what had happened, a phial was pressed against his lips. He drank obediently without a thought for the contents. The room came slowly into focus again.

Black was watching him, looking both wary and beseeching. Minerva had taken a place on the sofa now, her hands firmly around Harry's back. Albus was standing above them and stowing the empty phial of whatever potion he'd supplied away again.

'You… you're telling me Peter Pettigrew was Scabbers?' Harry clarified when at last he could speak. 'But that's… that's impossible.'

'Is it?' Black asked. 'A rat that lived twelve years? A rat with a missing toe, just as Peter was missing a finger? A rat – no less – that was perfectly placed, hiding among a wizarding family… with access to you in case –'

'I think you have made your point, Sirius,' Minerva cut in.

Her hands tightened protectively over Harry's shoulders, but Harry wished she'd let Black speak. He wanted all the information…

'Pettigrew vanished when he realised Sirius was too great a threat,' Albus said, picking up the tale. 'Your friend, as you told me yourself, believed him dead. We think, however, that Pettigrew is still at Hogwarts. We are searching for him.'

'You… and the Ministry?' Harry asked. 'You've… you've told Fudge now, haven't you?'

The adults all exchanged glances.

'Not yet, Harry,' Albus said. 'Everything we know… it is based on Sirius' account, his memories, and Remus' information. The Ministry will not trust it, even with my backing. If we hope to protect Sirius – hope to clear his name – than we cannot go forward with the claim against Pettigrew unless we are able to capture him. The weight of evidence is against us.'

Harry leaned back a bit into Minerva, as though the contact would ground him. He no longer cared if he looked childish or stupid. Black was watching him closely still, but he had not moved to speak again. Harry brought his own eyes to the headmaster's.

'You believe him, Albus?' he asked, searching the blue gaze. 'You're certain he's telling the truth?'

'I am,' Albus said softly. 'There is a memory Sirius provided that I can show you, if you would prefer… but I would rather not. I think it may be distressing for you.'

'Why can't you give that to the Ministry then?' Harry queried in confusion.

Albus sighed. 'Do you remember when we first spoke of Occlumency?' he asked. Harry nodded. 'Those who are particularly skilled in the mind magics can alter memories – others', and their own. The Ministry is aware of this, and they consider the fact in their determination of a memory's veracity.'

'You're an Occlumens?' Harry asked, shooting a distrustful look at Black.

The man shrugged. 'I am capable of some Occlumency, yes,' he confirmed. 'We were taught as children, in the house I grew up in. But it's not really my cup of tea. I am not particularly gifted in it… and certainly not well enough to create a false memory that might fool the likes of the headmaster.'

'It matters not,' Albus continued. 'The Ministry – believing that Sirius is a Death Eater and knowing his lineage – will chose to wilfully blind themselves. Whatever his memories might reveal, they will not trust the revelation. It is not in their interest to do so… for it would not only unearth their own blunder of twelve years ago, but also create much public embarrassment, not to mention the possibility of mass panic when the world discovers that a Death Eater has been roaming free for more than a decade. It is much easier, from their point of view, to continue to hold Sirius out as the culprit. Our only chance is to secure Peter Pettigrew. Proof of Pettigrew's continued existence, combined with the testimony of Sirius himself and my own and Remus' contributions, will secure Sirius' exoneration.'

'But you believe him?' Harry asked again.

'I do,' Albus confirmed.

'Then… I trust you,' said Harry at last.

It was difficult – more difficult than he could have thought it would be. The headmaster's own voice echoed in his head – the shadow of a conversation held lifetimes ago…

Do you trust everyone you love?

'Harry…'

It was Black's – Sirius' – voice this time. He reached out a tentative hand to rest on Harry's, who did not pull away. The touch was callused and just a bit too cool to be healthy, but it was familiar all the same. At long last, Harry raised his eyes to meet Sirius'.

'I don't know if they've told you… but I am your godfather,' Sirius said. There was something else in his expression now. Harry thought, perhaps, it was hope.

'I know,' he returned in a whisper.

He smiled, just a fraction.

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'I'm just saying – don't you think it's odd?' Ron went on, leaning across his half-finished Defence essay on vampires to murmur at Harry. Hermione had gone up to her own dormitory to practise Cheering Charms in peace, something she'd been doing frequently throughout the Easter Holidays after missing the lesson the previous week.

Which was too bad, because not only could Harry have used one to calm his churning mind… but it also gave Ron the perfect opening to continue his musings on Hermione's impossible timetable and likelihood of permanent insanity.

'I've already agreed it's odd, Ron,' Harry said in a strained mutter. 'But… there's nothing we can do about it, is there?'

'We can find out, Harry,' he said, as though Harry had gone mad too. 'She can't be attending all those subjects – it just isn't possible. Do you know Ernie MacMillan told me at supper tonight she's never missed a Muggle Studies lesson? How?! Half of them meet the same time as Care of Magical Creatures.'

'How do you know that?' Harry asked sharply. The last thing he needed now was for Ron to start cross-checking timetables… or he too would be on the receiving end of some difficult to answer questions.

Ron shrugged. 'I heard Ernie and Justin talking about the previous week's lesson in Herbology last Tuesday,' he explained. 'But that's not the point. How's she –'

'Look, I've got to get this finished,' Harry said, bending back over his own essay again. 'I'm meeting Dumbledore in an hour, and there might not be time later.'

'Again?' Ron asked, drawn from his obsessive musings at last and raising an eyebrow. 'That's almost every night this week, Harry.'

'Problem?' Harry challenged defensively.

Ron held up his hands. 'No – of course not, mate,' he said in a rush. 'It's just… I'm surprised, is all. But it's a good thing,' he said with a tentative smile. 'You should meet him.'

Harry returned the smile, feeling a bit guilty for his temper. He wasn't really angry with Ron… but all these secrets were starting to wear on him. He was bursting to tell Ron – and Hermione – about Sirius Black. To share the truth. To tell them he'd been meeting Sirius, nearly every night. But telling them about Sirius would mean explaining about Peter Pettigrew… and Albus had forbidden that. To his chagrin, he knew Albus was right on this. Ron would go ballistic if he learnt the truth of who'd been kipping on his pillow… and Sirius' freedom was well worth a bit longer with his mouth wired shut.

At least, tomorrow, they'd be back to the regular school timetable. Perhaps lessons and the final few weeks of the Quidditch season would be enough to distract both him and Ron from their chaotic minds.

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'You know, you really do just look just like him – right down to the untidy hair.'

They were seated, as they had been almost every evening that week, in Albus' study. Harry knew Sirius wasn't staying at the castle: Albus had explained about the Shrieking Shack the day they'd first met, and he'd heard ten stories already about the Marauders' adventures from the derelict house in the nights since. But Albus and Minerva, though they wholeheartedly agreed that Harry and Sirius should be allowed to meet, did not want Harry that far from the castle. They'd compromised by sneaking Sirius up to the headmaster's quarters in the evenings instead, so that he and Harry could get to know one another over supper or tea. Remus joined them most evenings, though he was often distracted in staring for countless minutes at the map he'd taken back from Harry in February. He was looking, Harry knew, for Pettigrew's dot. They'd explained that too.

Harry liked Sirius. He was funny and warm. He seemed eager to learn everything about Harry that he could, and they talked for hours into the night… until Minerva or Albus insisted they pack it in. Harry, in turn, yearned just as badly for stories about his parents and the early childhood he could not remember. As he had done with Remus over the summer, he pressed Sirius for whatever scraps he could offer. Given that he'd spent the better part of a year thinking this man had betrayed his family, it wasn't as easy to converse with Sirius as it was when he'd first met Remus… even though, in many ways, Sirius was much more forthcoming with information than Remus was. Harry suspected, in fact, that Remus had taken to joining their evenings as much to supervise Sirius' confidences as to spend time with Harry and his former school mate.

Sirius was obsessed with Peter Pettigrew… but Harry could hardly blame him for that. Harry too wanted Pettigrew caught with the same fury he'd directed at his godfather before he'd learnt the truth. He knew Minerva and Albus spent the time the others were together in the office running sweeps of the castle and grounds, and he himself tried to steal glances at the Map whenever he could manage it (a habit Remus highly disapproved of). Nobody – even the more laidback Sirius – wanted him anywhere near the search for Peter Pettigrew.

Harry ran a hand self-consciously through his mop of unruly black hair. Sirius laughed. His laugh, Harry noted, was almost a bark.

'It's ironic, really,' he went on, 'As your grandfather created Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.'

Harry scowled. 'Gilderoy Lockhart used to keep a bottle of that in his office,' he remembered.

'Who's Lockhart?' Sirius asked curiously.

'Never mind,' said Harry quickly. He'd rather not think about their ex-Defence professor; particularly not when there were so many more pressing things to discuss.

'Can you tell me about how –'

'HE'S HERE!'

Remus' roar interrupted his query, and both Harry and Sirius jumped. Remus had risen so forcefully from his chair that he sent it crashing to the floor. Harry – for one split second – did not understand what was going on… But as Sirius leapt to his feet with a muttered oath, unsheathing his wand like a sword, he knew.

The Rat had shown himself, at last.

'Where?' he demanded, rushing over to stare at the map himself.

Remus tore it off the table, already rushing for the door with Sirius at his heels. He fired off three silvery patronuses as Harry and Sirius clambered after him.

'No!' Remus cried, shoving Sirius back as he reached the edge of the room. 'You stay – we can't leave Harry on his own.'

'You stay!' Sirius bellowed. 'He's mine… he's been mine for twelve years!'

'Sirius, you CANNOT BE SEEN!' Remus shouted back. 'I'll send for the others – just stay with Harry and make certain –'

'I'm coming!' Harry and Sirius both spat in unison.

Remus looked between the pair of them. Sirius nodded, pushing forward to brush past Remus.

'THIS is what I meant, Padfoot!' Remus said, grasping Sirius' arm with a fierce glare. 'You want to be the adult? You want to be responsible for him – for his safety? This is what it means! Stay here – keep Harry away from the danger. I'll be back.'

He rushed out without another word, slamming the door behind him.

Sirius watched him go, his face a mask of torture. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Sirius turned back to Harry. His eyes were wild – more haunted then Harry had ever seen them. He crouched slightly so they were on eye-level and took Harry by the shoulders.

'You will not be safe until he is gone,' he said roughly, his fingers digging into Harry's skin. Even without the talon-like nails, the grip was slightly painful. 'I must get him, Harry. Stay here. Do not move from this room until someone returns.'

'But I –'

Sirius gave a meaningful nod of his head before Harry could finish, releasing him at last. Like Remus before him, he yanked the door ajar so hard it bounced on its hinges. In a flash, he had changed into the dog that Harry remembered… and he tore down the stone staircase and out of sight.

Harry stood framed in the doorway for ten long seconds, listening to the padding footsteps fade away… torn between obedience and vengeance.

'Sod this,' he cursed angrily to himself.

And he slammed the office door, racing down the staircase after the others.

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Review Responses, Chapter 37

Anyeshabaner: Thank you for your review! Glad you enjoyed the chapter – and I'd be happy to provide some explanation if you found the end confusing… just let me know. hope you like Chapter 38!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked the chapter and Snape's reactions. Though I definitely agree – Snape's determined blindness in seeing Harry as his own independent person is his greatest weakness. Thanks for the vote of confidence about the ending – I hope you do like it!

AECM: Thanks for your review! I hope you like the continuation.

Sopnew: Thank you for reviewing! Very good to hear you're enjoying the culmination of this book, and I hope you like Chapter 38!

Me: Thank you for the review and the well wishes! Glad you're catching up and hope you enjoy the story. I make no comment on Sirius' fate, for now…

Guest (first Guest review, Chapter 37): Thank you for reviewing! I'm very happy you are liking the story so much and enjoy the character interactions. I promise there will be more of Aberforth in coming instalments… he actually had an appearance in this chapter, but I had to cut it in the editing for purposes of moving along the story. We may see him next chapter, and we certainly shall before the end of the book. I hope you like Chapter 38!

Guest (second Guest review, Chapter 37): Thanks for your review! I almost made end of week-end (pretty close, I think, given that it's about 5:00am on Monday morning here in London…). I'll do my best to get the rest out as quickly as I can. Harry's reaction is included in Chapter 38, so I hope you like that!

Guest (Guest review, Chapter 11): Thanks for reviewing! Hmm… I am guessing you are the same 'guest' who recently reviewed for Part I as well – in which case I am happy you are still interested in the story and hope you continue to enjoy it! I will warn, however, that these stories are not going to have a slash pairing for Harry. Though I completely respect and enjoy that everyone has their own interpretation of the HP universe – both canon and fanfic variants – and I know that many like the M/M pairing idea for Harry, it isn't where I see my character developing (my profile includes an entire section on my thoughts/intentions for HP pairings, if you want more about why I don't see this happening for COH). I think you raise some interesting points about Harry's peers and whether they can ever really understand him… an issue, sadly, that many people face in finding someone they are compatible with. Hopefully when we embark on pairings for Harry in this story, those concerns can be adequately addressed. I definitely don't want to mislead by leaving open the option that this series will end up going in the slash direction with Harry… but I do hope you will continue to enjoy the book regardless!

Sharek Fan – Review Responses:

OK – round two! I'm not sure if you saw my responses to your last set of reviews as you did not post a review to Chapter 34. But if you haven't, they are located in Chapter 34 should you want to see responses / have any questions you'd like clarified (there were a few things you'd asked about that I need clarification to address).

This one I'll be putting in front of Chapter 38, just in case (as it appears there's a bit of a lag on fanfiction's end in terms of post-times right now)… hopefully I've correctly guessed your current place in the story! I'll move them after you pass that point to the end of the chapter with my other review responses.

Part II, Chapter 33 – Severus' problem with the term 'mudblood' isn't to do with his own blood status. It's because his calling Lily a 'mudblood' in their fifth year in front of half the school in a very demeaning way was the final straw that fractured their already fragile friendship. This scene, which I believe was altered/changed somewhat in the films, is witnessed by Harry when he invades the Pensieve and views Snape's memory in which his father and the Marauders bully Snape after OWL exams, and is actually the portion of the memory that properly infuriates Snape into ending their Occlumency lessons (though Harry assumes at the time that it is James' mistreatment and humiliation that has driven Snape mad). The scene replays again when Harry later views the dead Snape's memories in Dumbledore's office. After the incident, Snape attempted but was unable to repair the damage later that evening, and Lily told him off for his years-long attraction to and slowly deepening fascination with the dark arts and students who practised them. She then accuses him and his friends of intending to join Voldemort after they leave school – which he does not deny. She says she knows he thinks of Muggle-borns as lesser beings, and is unmoved by his clear efforts to separate her from them. In the end, it is clear they are on opposite sides of the schism, and their friendship ends. Snape's dislike for the term 'mudblood' is further established in Deathly Hallows, when (in another memory viewed by Harry) he lambasts the portrait of Phineas Nigellus for using the term to describe Hermione. And you are absolutely correct that it is used in the HP universe the way that racist slurs are used in ours.

Here, of course, he gives Draco a true but incomplete listing of reasons he should avoid the term. I've always imagined that while Snape is quite preferential to the Slytherins in lessons and in front of others, he is quite strict with them in private. Incidentally, I think Dumbledore agrees with you on House rivalry (though he himself also perpetuates it, whether on purpose or not).

The friendship speech he gives Harry here is one of the earliest scenes that I ever wrote in this series, and remains one of my favourites. As you have probably guessed – it is directly related to Snape's own experiences with friendship.

Part II, Chapter 35 – Thank you for the congratulations! My daughters are now aged two and a half, and James and I just welcomed a son, coincidentally on Harry Potter's birthday (31 July).

As to what is unforgivable… well, I do not personally disagree with you. That said, Harry's understanding of the nuances of human nature and divine nature are still in development.

Ah, the Animagus question. No, Albus is not already aware of this. I believe this may again be something that the films did not address… but it is explained in the Prisoner of Azkaban book (and later novels) that James, Sirius and Pettigrew studied in secret to become Animagi and successfully hid the skill from Dumbledore (and everyone else). Albus actually makes a comment to Harry about it in Lupin's office at the end of PoA, just after Remus bids Harry farewell after his resignation. Albus says that Remus told him the whole story in the wake of Sirius' escape, including the Animagus scheme, and says that it was an impressive feat – not least to keep it from his notice entirely.

Part II, Chapter 35 (second review) – Don't worry, you aren't irritating or upsetting me in any way! I'm always happy and grateful for readers and reviewers – regardless of personal opinions or beliefs. And I'm certainly respectful of the fact that people have strong beliefs, faith or otherwise. I myself have strong religious beliefs, and though I do not always assign those beliefs to my characters or stories they certainly influence my own opinions (and, sometimes, my writing). I do not believe that you should ever have to apologise for your faith. And as to having reactions – positive or negative – to things included in COH, I highly encourage it! That you're having visceral reactions to the characters is exactly what I hope, and sometimes the disagreement is what you are intended to feel, COH is told from different POVs, of course, and each of the characters has his or her own set of biases, flaws and unreliable aspects to their narration. Even if you disagree with something I support, I don't mind your expressing it. That is what this type of forum is for – and it makes everyone a better reader and writer to have the discussion.

I hope you'll continue to enjoy reading the story and share your thoughts!