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.

40. The Dark Lord's Servant

A/N: Working hard to get this finished expediently! Hopefully get to work on Chapter 41 this week-end and post early week. I only have another fortnight of leave from work, so I'm going to do my best to get this book finished before life becomes wholly insane. Responses to reviews are at the end, for those of you who reviewed Chapter 39.

Enjoy 'The Dark Lord's Servant,' and please read and review! I'd love to hear people's thoughts as we finish up this Book…

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

Chapter 40: The Dark Lord's Servant

'Remus, are you even listening?'

'Mm,' Remus grunted back, though Sirius knew he had not been.

The map was spread out across the sitting room table in the Shrieking Shack again, and it pulled Remus' gaze constantly. Not that Sirius was at all immune to its lure… but he had had far longer to master the frustration and the constant, endless failure. Its disappointment did not shock him, in the way it still seemed to stun his companion. Though Remus had come by tonight on the guise of conversation – and though it was the first time they'd shared less than frosty words since the diatribe he'd received following the Map's one glimmer of hope – the chat had lasted less than fifteen minutes. From there, they'd been wavering between periods of drinking in silence and Sirius talking at Remus with little to no response.

'I'm going to tell him,' Sirius repeated, for whatever good it might do. 'The next time I'm up at the castle. I think he should know he has the option.'

'Option of what?' Remus echoed vaguely.

Sirius grunted in frustration. He slapped a hand down on the parchment, blocking the east wing from view. 'Of living with me, Remus!' he snarled out. 'Merlin, keep up.'

'Don't, you prat!' Remus growled back, prising at Sirius' fingers. 'What if he moves while your –'

'He has made one appearance on this wretched thing since the day we dug it out,' Sirius reminded him, though he wrenched his hand away again and raked his eyes dutifully over the previously-obscured portion. 'And you can speak and watch at the same time.'

Remus gave him a glower, before returning his own eyes to the parchment. 'I stand by what I told you weeks ago,' he insisted. 'I do not think it a good idea to upset Harry from his current situation. The castle is good for him. And you… even if we do manage to track Peter down, you need some time before you are ready to –'

'I told you, I'm fine,' Sirius retorted testily. 'And I'm not going to uproot him. Not if that isn't what he wants. I know him, Remus… I've been talking to him –'

'On occasion, and only over a matter of weeks,' Remus pointed out. 'It takes more than that to –'

'I know him,' Sirius repeated firmly. 'But if you would just let me finish…'

Remus waited, looking up briefly again, for just a moment.

'I won't force him into anything – him or Albus,' Sirius explained. 'But I need him to know he has the option, if things work out with Wormtail and the Ministry. He… I think he needs that, Remus. He should know I want him; that I'm willing – that I'd love – to have him, if he wants to make a home with me. And I need to know that he's where he wants to be. That he's happy. I owe him that… and I owe it to Lily, and James.'

Remus gave a fleeting smile. 'Then you should tell him, Padfoot,' he relented quietly.

He stood, gathering the map off the table. Sirius noted that he did not stow it into a pocket any longer.

'I ought to get back – I have exams to write,' Remus muttered quietly.

'Are you using a dictation quill to do it?' Sirius muttered under his breath.

Moony did not answer. He left… leaving Sirius to the rest of the whisky and his own confused thoughts.

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'You told him?!' Hermione hissed anxiously, when Harry cornered her after breakfast the following morning.

Harry grimaced. 'I had to,' he muttered back. 'He'd already worked out something was going on, Hermione. He's been asking around… we would have been in even more trouble if everyone else had got suspicious too.'

Hermione wrung her hands, still looking terrified. Harry closed his own over her fingers to stop her.

'Relax,' he told her, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to check that nobody was eavesdropping. 'I'll talk to McGonagall – explain the situation. She can't get all that angry… it wasn't as though I had a choice.'

And, to Harry's shock, Minerva barely blinked an eye when he dawdled to drop the bombshell after their final period Transfiguration lesson.

'Well, honestly,' she said with a sniff, straightening the heap of scrolls that held their essays, 'I would have thought you'd let it slip months ago.'

Harry gaped at her, unsure whether he was more indignant or relieved. 'You thought I'd tell?' he sputtered. 'But… but you gave us all those warnings. You told me I couldn't clue up Ron, no matter what. Do you realise how cross he was at me? If I'd known you didn't care…'

'Of course I care, Harry,' she disagreed, flicking her wand at the wall to draw the curtains over the mullioned windows. 'I would have preferred Weasley did not know – that nobody beyond yourself and Ms Granger was aware of the situation… but I am not an impractical witch,' she clarified. 'And Weasley is not as oblivious as he may first appear. And anyway, what's done is done.'

She gave him half a smile. 'Would you prefer to go back on restriction instead?'

'No,' Harry said quickly. 'Er – that makes sense, yeah.'

And he dashed off for the Tower, before Minerva could change her mind.

With the close of the Quidditch season freeing up his evenings and so much anxiety still preying on his mind over Peter Pettigrew's continued existence, Harry had thought the weeks leading into June and the exams would creep by unbearably slowly. On the contrary, however, time seemed to be hurtling toward summer. Some of this, Harry did not mind. The start of May brought with it much warmer and clearer weather, and he, Ron and Hermione spent their breaks out in the grounds – trading the common room or library tables for their favourite beech tree at the edge of the lake.

He would have preferred, of course, not to be revising every minute he was not in lessons. But, sadly, that was not to be. Even had he been willing to risk an afternoon off, Hermione kept both his and Ron's noses pressed firmly to their colour-blocked timetables.

'You'll thank me when you've passed everything,' she reminded them sanctimoniously, when they raised their usual gripe.

The protest was traditional… but Harry knew she was right. He'd allowed Hermione to force them into a revision schedule for every exam period since his start at the school; and he had yet to fail a subject. Of course, he'd never taken an exam in Divination before… so he supposed that theory would be put to new test this June.

It helped that they were not alone in their panic. Most of their own class was struggling to balance all the end of term work and revisions, and they had it easy compared to the fifth and seventh years. Percy Weasley, who had been quite attentive to Harry all year and particularly since the scene with Sirius Black in the dormitory, was now almost entirely unseen – shut up in his dormitory reading for his N.E.W.T.s away from the crowded common room. Harry knew Percy was hoping to work for the Ministry like his father after school, and was therefore unsurprised by this development… but he was surprised that the twins did not press the advantage of the Head Boy's absence to demonstrate some of their more ridiculous schemes. He supposed even Fred and George took O.W.L. examinations with some degree of seriousness.

Harry had been keeping a regular Sunday dinner schedule with Sirius ever since the end of the Quidditch season. He told Ron and Hermione it was a standing time for dinner with Albus… who sometimes did join them, and other times worked up in his bedchamber or left the castle for a few hours – perhaps to see Aberforth, or on other business outside the school. Sirius' obsession with Pettigrew had only grown in the weeks since their failed attempt to corner him in the seventh-floor corridor; but when he wasn't brooding over the traitor, he was asking Harry increasingly personal questions. Harry supposed it was all part of getting to know one another… but as much as he liked Sirius already, he still found it hard to answer some of his inquiries.

'Harry?'

'Hmm?' said Harry, jolted from his musings. He realised belatedly that he'd been holding a forkful of rocket aloft for the better part of three minutes, and lowered it without consuming the salad. 'Sorry… I guess I'm a bit tired; been revising all week-end.'

He was preoccupied tonight, remembering the chaos of receiving their timetables for the examinations over breakfast the previous morning. Ron had had a fit looking over Hermione's shoulder at her own, where she was scheduled at times to sit three examinations in one timeslot. And they'd both been perplexed by Trelawney's incomprehensible assignments: individualised, at random hours spreading over the fortnight of examination period.

'I was saying… has Albus spoken to you yet about your plans for the upcoming summer holiday?'

Harry bit his lip. He hadn't talked specifically to the headmaster about what he would be doing once term concluded. But he suspected he knew the answer already. They had spoken so many times about the Dursleys and the role they must play in Harry's protection, and he couldn't imagine that Dumbledore would not be keener than ever to ensure that protection remained – especially if they continued to be unsuccessful in their attempts to catch Peter Pettigrew.

'Not precisely,' he hedged. 'But I'm pretty sure I'll go back to the Dursleys, for a week or so. And then, hopefully, I'll be able to come back here. That's what we did last summer… and that's what Dumbledore seemed to say we would be doing from here on out.'

Sirius nodded, but his brow was furrowed.

'Is that what you want to do, Harry?' he asked, looking keenly at him.

Harry frowned. 'Well… no, not exactly,' he answered honestly. 'I mean, if I had it my way I'd be here all the time. Hogwarts is home. It's… it's everything. It's where I belong. But I know it's complicated; I've talked to Albus about it a lot. The Dursleys…' He hesitated. 'They're not great,' he admitted. 'But I need them. Or Albus thinks I do, anyway, because of my mum. Because she gave her life for mine… and if I don't go back at least once a year, I won't keep that protection.'

Sirius scowled. 'Some things aren't worth protection, Harry,' he said quietly.

A more childish part of Harry's soul sang in agreement: the part that remembered a decade of torture. The part connected to his left cheek, where Vernon's strike had broken bones.

But Harry wasn't the same wizard he'd been at eleven years old, when Dumbledore had first come to take him from that home. And even though it killed him to go back… he could understand, on some level, why Albus insisted on it.

'I have to,' he said dully. 'There isn't a choice. Not really. Not right now. But he knows what it's like – Albus. He won't make me stay long… at least, I don't think so. I should probably talk to him about it.'

'And after?' Sirius pressed. 'When you leave your aunt and uncle's… you think you're going to come back here?'

Harry cocked his head, confused. 'Well, I hope so,' he said, slightly defensively. 'I mean… like I said, I haven't talked with Dumbledore about it yet, but… he let me stay the last two summers. He and McGonagall – they sort of look after me, while everyone's out of the castle.'

'What do you do with them, when you're here alone?'

Harry shrugged. 'Normal stuff,' he said. 'You know – they let me go into the grounds; sometimes I go flying… I read, or we play games. Sometimes we go into the village. Last summer, we went on mini-break to Edinburgh. I take lessons –'

'Lessons?' Sirius repeated, looking scandalised. 'You take lessons over the summer holiday? He makes you do school?'

Harry shrugged again. 'Well, they're not normal lessons,' he defended. 'Some of it is. You know – Transfiguration, Potions, Charms… that sort of thing. But we do other lessons too… wandless magic, Occlumency, some advanced Defence work. It's not so bad. Dumbledore teaches me himself, and Minerva and Lupin. And Snape,' he added.

He said the last begrudgingly… for he knew already that Sirius Black was perhaps the only person in the world Snape might hate as much – if not more – than he had hated James Potter. From what he'd seen of Sirius' behaviour toward the Potions Master, he was sure the sentiment was entirely mutual.

He was not surprised when Sirius growled. 'Dumbledore makes you take summer tutorials with that slime ball,' he spat viciously.

'Well… to be fair, I sort of asked for the wandless lessons,' Harry confided.

'He teaches you wandless magic?' Sirius clarified, incredulous. 'Snape?'

Harry nodded. 'Only since last July,' he informed him. 'But yeah, those are his.'

Sirius looked as though he wanted to launch into a rant, but he swallowed down on whatever he was going to retort. Instead, he fixed Harry with a very intense stare. It was slightly unnerving.

'You don't have to do it, you know,' he told Harry seriously. 'Any of it, I mean. You're a kid. You're not meant to be training, or sitting in lessons all year long. You're meant to be enjoying yourself; having some fun. I… I know you've had a rough time of it at your relations,' he confessed, looking mournful. 'And I'm sorry for that. If I hadn't gone after Peter that night – if I hadn't been imprisoned – perhaps things could have been different from the beginning. But now…'

He paused, fidgeting a bit in his seat. Harry wondered at the awkwardness.

'Anyway, what I'm trying to say is… we can make it different, now. If you want to.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean, different?' he asked. 'If you think you're going to be able to convince Dumbledore I shouldn't go back to Privet Drive… well, I sort of doubt it. We talked it through about every possible way last summer, and even I can see where –'

'I could tell Dumbledore you won't be going,' Sirius clarified, a bit more confidently. 'If you want me to, Harry, I will. Once I'm cleared… if I'm cleared – when we get Pettigrew, I mean…'

He faltered again, looking nervous as he ran a hand through his hair.

'I'm your godfather, Harry.'

'Yeah, I know that…' Harry said slowly. 'But what does that have to do with –'

'Lily and James…' Sirius sighed heavily. 'Your mum and dad – they wanted me to take you. To raise you, if anything should happen to them…'

And it clicked.

'You… you want me to come with you?' Harry asked, his own voice higher than usual. 'Come and live with you, instead of here at the school?'

'Only if you want to,' Sirius said quickly. 'I mean – I'll understand, Harry. Really, I will… if you'd rather not. But we could make a family together, you and I. We don't have to live in the shadows, not once the traitor is out of the picture. You could have a normal home, a normal house; a normal summer. And I… I would be there for you, Harry,' he added, eyes blazing. 'I'll take care of you.'

A tumult of emotions swelled inside Harry. Live with Sirius Black… his parents' best friend… Someone who would keep him safe. Someone who wanted him. Someone who would take care of him. Someone who loved him. Someone almost like a father. It was everything he'd dreamed of, all those long nights in his cupboard surrounded by darkness and spiders and mouldy blankets.

But…

Harry had that, didn't he?

Maybe he hadn't when he was small. Maybe he hadn't for ten long, miserable years… But he had it now.

When he thought of safety, he thought of this very study: with its crackling fire and Fawkes trilling on his corner perch.

When he felt unwanted, he thought of Minerva's face as she came tearing into the room at Emmeline's inn in Edinburgh, terrified when she thought he'd been lost forever.

When he wished for someone to take care of him, he remembered how Albus had sat up with him in the bedchamber upstairs, soothing him from fever for four days when he'd only barely arrived back two summers ago.

When he wondered who loved him, he saw Albus' face… Minerva's… Ron's, Hermione's, Remus', Aberforth's…. And now Sirius'. Everyone he would never have known, if Hogwarts had not brought them back together.

Even though Harry knew Sirius was sincere… and he knew the man did love him… when he thought of a father-figure in his life, it was not Sirius Black who came to mind.

And, for the first time that Harry could remember, he also realised it wasn't something he was missing anymore.

'I…' he struggled to find the right words – the unexpected epiphany that had taken root in his mind seeming to block his memory of speech.

'You don't have to answer now,' Sirius offered, saving Harry the awkward moment. 'I just… wanted you to know you have the option. Or you will have, when we catch the rat.'

'Thank you,' said Harry, putting as much feeling as he could into the words.

On impulse, he threw his arms around Sirius' neck. Sirius clutched him back tightly, and with an inherent naturalness. It made Harry's next words easier and more difficult in equal measure as he said them to Sirius' shoulder.

'I… I can't live with you,' he admitted softly. 'I want you to be around – really I do. I want to know you more, and to see you; to spend time together. I just… Hogwarts is my home. Here: with Albus. With Minerva. I just… I can't leave them now. I'm sorry…'

'Don't be,' Sirius insisted. He pulled back so that he could look into Harry's face. Harry thought his eyes looked slightly tight, but he was smiling all the same.

'I just want you to be happy,' he assured him, touching Harry's chin with one long finger. 'And safe. If being here gives you both, then I would never take that from you. But know that you always have another option… and my home is always open to you, if you ever have need of it.'

Harry gave him a watery smile. 'Thank you,' he said simply.

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The first week of June arrived, and with it – the start of examinations. What had been simmering stress boiled over into full-blown panic throughout much of the school. The common room was as eerily quiet as Madam Pince's library. House points were docked in the dozens by prefects and teachers for any misbehaviour in the corridors or dormitories. The annual trade in dodgy study aids kicked up with a vengeance. And it became common place to put Sticking Charms on one's plate in the Great Hall, lest a fellow pupil accidentally send it flying into your face while attempting to cram incantations and wand movements at breakfast.

Harry thought he'd done alright, on the whole.

Transfiguration and Charms were easy, with all the extra work he'd been doing in both subjects over the summer in addition to the regular syllabus. Potions, predictably, did not leave him with the same sense of confidence. He doubted Snape's examination ever would, no matter how many extra tutorials he'd participated in. In fact, Harry strongly suspected on comparing papers with Ron and Hermione that Snape had made his extra difficult, just to make up for Harry's added preparation.

Except for a minor mishap with an abundance of dragon dung fertilizer, Harry thought Herbology went pretty well. Astronomy and History of Magic were mostly memorisation, so Hermione's revision schedule had him well prepared for those exams, even if Harry rarely listened to Binns in regular lessons. He even made it alright through Arithmancy. Care of Magical Creatures was a wash: Hagrid was far more preoccupied with the upcoming appeal at the Ministry – set to take place the day their exams were to finish. He'd merely given them each a Flobberworm and told them it had to be alive at the end of the hour to pass the exam.

But Harry was most pleased about his Defence work, for which they'd been required to complete a series of tasks, each involving a creature they'd studied that year. Harry emerged to face a beaming Remus, who'd told him straight out he had achieved the highest mark in the year.

He was still grinning as he mounted the grand staircase at half four, even though he was headed to his least favourite room in the castle.

His final exam was Divination. Unlike the 'mundane' teachers, Trelawney took great issue with conformity to school tradition or regularity. She believed that Divination could not truly be 'tested'… and certainly not by a uniform, contrived examination. The Seer had therefore assigned each of her students a set time and date for their individual assessment, spreading all her exams out at various intervals throughout the fortnight. Harry – as far as he'd been able to determine in comparing timetables with his fellow Gryffindors – was the last one in his form scheduled to sit his examination. Ron, who had had his Divination session on Monday, was finished now and headed back to the Tower to join the celebrations. Hermione was sitting Ancient Runes. So Harry climbed the many flights alone, relishing his victory in Defence and thinking longingly of his own freedom, a mere hour or so away.

He knocked at the trapdoor hesitantly when at last he reached the top of the ladder. There was no reply from within. Assuming Trelawney was expecting him, Harry pushed the door open and climbed out into the classroom.

To his surprise, the Seer was not alone.

'Oh! Er… sorry,' Harry apologised, his face burning as he started to retreat.

Cho Chang was seated on one of the garish poufs, across the table from Professor Trelawney. The sunlight – tinged red from the draped curtains that shrouded the tower windows – gleamed off both the crystal ball and Cho's raven hair as she turned to face the intruder. She gave him a tentative smile that only heightened his mortification.

Harry felt like an idiot. He should have realised that the other forms would probably have odd Divination examination timing too… why hadn't he waited for the invitation to enter? She probably thought he was rude now, in addition to absolutely –

'I'm sorted, actually,' Cho assured him, rising from her pouf and gathering a leather satchel from under the low table. 'At least… I think?' she added, looking to the professor.

Trelawney straightened her bangles with a slow nod. 'Indeed,' she said in her misty voice. 'You may go, Ms Chang. Do have a lovely holiday… and don't forget to beware of fire on the first of August,' she warned her casually. 'Mr Potter… kindly fetch the smaller orb from the cupboard, just there. This one is for more advanced work.'

She indicated an old-fashioned cabinet at the front of the room with a sweeping arm, before pulling a velvet pouch from among her many shawls to stow the one the fourth year had been utilising. Cho passed Harry as he made to heed the direction, giving him a grimace and an exaggerated eye-roll as she turned her back on the professor.

He grinned despite himself.

As he took one of the smaller crystal orbs from the shelf, however, a new, very harsh voice rang through the room: so loud and unexpected that Harry nearly dropped the sphere…

'IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.'

Harry wheeled, looking toward the trap door on instinct for the source of the sound. Cho was there, her hand outstretched for the round handle… but she had frozen. Her dark eyes were wide as she stared past Harry toward the table she'd so recently abandoned. Harry turned the other way instead, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

Professor Trelawney sat stiffened in her armchair; clutching the larger orb, now encased in its velvet pouch, tight to her chest with both hands. Her eyes were open but unfocused, half-white as they rolled in her head.

Harry gaped at her – transfixed.

'Wh… Pardon?'

The Seer made no sign whatsoever that she had heard him. Her head began to loll, her irises disappearing entirely to face the back of her skull. Her entire body was jerking as though possessed.

The orb fell out of her grasp, thumping dully to the floor and rolling away under one of the adjacent tables.

'Professor!' Harry called, starting forward in panic.

Something halted his progress, bouncing him back as though by a forcefield. He almost lost his footing. He tried again to move toward the professor, but whatever the invisible barrier was would not yield.

'Don't,' a quiet voice advised. A hand closed around his wrist. 'There's no point. It won't break, until it's over.'

Cho had come back, joining him at his forced point of exile. She too was watching Trelawney, though her expression was less horrified than his own. She looked… calculating. Perhaps resigned.

Harry did not understand it.

'Shouldn't we –' he began… but the harsh tones interrupted him again.

Professor Trelawney's voice, yet the very opposite of any voice he'd ever heard her use before.

'THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS. ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO RE-JOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID… GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT… BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT… WILL SET OUT… TO RE-JOIN… HIS MASTER…'

Professor Trelawney suddenly slumped, the odd spasm that had racked her body ceasing entirely. Her chin fell forward to rest on her chest and she gave a grunt – as though in sleep.

Harry felt a chill creep through his entire being.

'What the bloody –'

But before he could even finish the thought, the professor's head snapped upright once more, her eyes returned to their usual state.

'Oh, I'm terribly sorry, my dear,' she apologised. Her voice, Harry noticed, had resumed its dreamy normalcy. 'I must have drifted off… the heat of the afternoon, you understand…'

Harry's mouth fell open. He gaped at her, lost for words.

'Ms Chang… was there something further?' Trelawney asked, her gaze shifting to Cho.

Cho released her grip on Harry's wrist. 'No, professor,' she said. Her voice was a bit shaky, but she made no mention at all of the strange occurrence. 'Er – Harry… I'll, er, see you later. Good luck.'

And she left, before Harry could work out just what it was he wanted to say to her.

'Well, take a seat, dear boy, take a seat…' Trelawney insisted, flapping a bejewelled hand at the open pouf.

Harry walked slowly forward. The strange barrier that had rebuffed him had gone now. But he did not sit.

'You… what was that, professor?' he asked, still staring hard at Trelawney.

'What was what?' Trelawney inquired lightly. She prised the crystal ball out of Harry's hand, when he made no move to hand it over.

Harry narrowed his gaze. 'You know what, ma'am,' he insisted. 'You… you just told us that the – the Dark Lord is going to rise again. You said his servant would go back to him… that he would be more –'

'Really!' Professor Trelawney interrupted him, looking thoroughly startled. She drew her shawls tighter to her chest, gazing around as though worried someone might be eavesdropping. 'What a thing to joke about, Mr Potter… the Dark Lord, rise again? It's simply –'

'But you said it!' Harry insisted, equal parts angry and unnerved. 'Just now! You told me –'

'I think you must have dozed off as well,' Trelawney interrupted, shaking her head firmly. 'Now, if you would, kindly gaze into the orb… Relax your mind, and open your Inner Eye to the portents of the future…'

Harry could hardly remember what tosh he'd made up during his Divination exam. He hadn't seen anything at all in the cloudy depths of the crystal ball… but even if he'd seen the whole of the rest of his life, it would not have been able to drown out Trelawney's fit. He tried to press her again on the prediction when she'd finally dismissed him a half hour later, but she'd brushed him off once more; wincing at Voldemort's name and apparently without any idea of the words she'd uttered.

Perhaps it was just her idea of a clever way to end the term: predicting events even more dire than she'd begun with.

When he'd climbed back down the ladder to her attic room, however, he'd been surprised to find Cho Chang awaiting him at the bottom.

'Oh, hi,' he greeted her, somewhat lamely.

He wasn't embarrassed this time. Trelawney's words were far too fresh… and his curiosity far too overpowering. But there was a bit of awkwardness, all the same. After all, he'd never had a proper conversation with Cho before… and clearly, she wanted to speak with him. She'd waited through his examination to do so.

'She didn't remember, did she?' Cho asked, jumping right into it.

Harry frowned at her. 'No…' he said, confusion mounting again. 'She didn't.'

He thought back to the moments just before the prediction; to how Cho had seemed to know what was happening. How she had stopped him trying to get through to the professor.

'Has she done that before?' he asked, a bit suspicious.

Cho shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'Never that I've seen, at least. I wasn't really sure she could, to be honest…'

'You think it was a real prediction, then?' Harry demanded, his thrill of horror at the Seer's words returning. 'But… why wouldn't she take the credit, then, if it was? Why would she pretend she hadn't a clue what I was on about? Of if she was telling the truth… why wouldn't she remember?'

Cho gave him a sad smile. 'Yin and Yang.'

Harry stared, uncomprehending. 'Pardon?' he prompted, when Cho did not go on.

'Yin and Yang,' she repeated. 'You know… dark and light. Complimentary forces. Balance.'

'I… er, I still don't get it,' Harry admitted, feeling stupid once again.

Cho sighed. 'It's not that uncommon… or, at least, it's not uncommon among the uncommon, I suppose. The Sight isn't a common gift. But Seers are usually hampered in some way or another. Sometimes, they have the Sight but not physical sight. Other times, they don't remember what it is they've Seen. Some Seers aren't believed when they relay their prophecies to others. Some lose a bit of themselves, when they prophesise. It varies.'

Harry recalled, vaguely, the discussion he'd had nearly two years ago with the headmaster… when Dumbledore had tried to explain about Fate and prophets. He felt just as wrong-footed in this conversation as he had in that one.

Cho seemed to guess his difficulty. 'It's magic,' she went on. 'Magic, especially unusual talent, always comes at a price. The balance must hold.'

'So… you're saying Trelawney might have made a true prophecy, but her, er, "price" is that she doesn't remember doing it?' Harry clarified.

'Exactly,' Cho said, giving him another small smile. 'Ironic, isn't it? When you consider how often she plays at guesswork…'

'How do you know all this?' Harry asked, curious. 'Are you a… er, Seer, too?'

Cho laughed. It was a light, very feminine laugh… and it sent a small thrill of pleasure down Harry's spine even through the aura of uncertainty and panic he was currently fighting.

'Oh no,' Cho insisted, shaking her head. 'No, not at all. I mean, I try in Divination… but I've never had the talent. It's my mother who can do it. That's why I could recognise the signs… That trance – it happens to Mum too.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Really?'

She nodded. 'Yes.' Her voice grew more serious. 'It used to really scare me, when I was small. I got accustomed to it after a while.' She shrugged.

'And your mum doesn't remember what it is she predicts?'

A shadow passed fleetingly over Cho's pretty face. She bit at her lower lip. 'Oh, no,' she said more quietly. 'No… Mum remembers. That isn't her burden.'

Harry hesitated. He wanted to ask Cho what happened to her mother… what her price was, for whatever visions she divined… But he was afraid the inquiry might be a touch too personal, for their first ever real conversation.

'What Trelawney said though…' Cho continued, her expression darkening.

Harry nearly slapped himself.

How could he have forgotten that?! What was he doing – standing here bantering back and forth?!

'Yeah, I er –'

His 'have to go' was cut off, as Cho locked eyes with him. She still looked very serious, but she started to speak again before he could finish.

'Harry, don't put too much thought into it,' she urged him quietly.

'Not too much thought?' he repeated, shocked. 'Didn't you hear her? She said Lord Voldemort –' Cho flinched – 'Would rise again,' Harry finished. 'Greater and more terrible… with his servant's aid.'

'You-Know-Who is gone,' she reminded him in a whisper. 'Thanks to you,' she added with a ghost of a smile.

'For now,' Harry muttered back. 'But… he could come back. He isn't gone forever.'

Cho shuddered. 'Maybe,' she admitted at last. 'But it does you no good, to worry about it now. There isn't anything to do, in any case. Nobody knows where Sirius Black is…'

Harry kept his face deliberately as blank as he could make it.

'And Seers… they aren't always right, you know,' she told him. 'Prophesy is an odd thing. There are a thousand predictions – even true prophecies – that are never fulfilled, for every one which comes to pass.'

Harry wanted to argue the point; but it wasn't really Cho he wanted to argue it to.

He tried to force a smile, even over his own anxiety. 'Yeah,' he said with false confidence. 'Yeah… you're right.'

She gave him another of her pretty smiles. 'Well…' she said, looking toward the corridor. 'Well, I suppose I ought to dash. But have a good summer holiday, Harry, if I don't see you.'

'Yeah,' Harry repeated automatically. 'Yeah… you too.'

She left with a wave, hurrying off toward the Ravenclaw dormitories. Harry walked casually in his own route until she turned a corner out of sight.

And then he sprinted for Gryffindor Tower as fast as his legs would carry him.

'Finished at last!' Ron greeted him, clapping Harry hard on the back the moment he tumbled through the portrait hole.

He pulled Harry upright from his scrambling, while Dean and Seamus began calling for them to come and join at a table of sweets and butterbeer in the corner. The entire Tower was a scene of celebration and cheer – dozens of relieved students engaged in happy chatter and games… not a one concerned that everything might change in hours.

'Thank Merlin!' Ron went on. 'You were ages up there. I thought we'd have to come and check the old bat hadn't forced her own predictions to come true and murdered you her– Harry?'

Ron cut himself off as Harry pushed himself straight again, frowning as he took in his face.

'What's the matter?'

Harry looked around, his nerves still rattled.

'Where's Hermione?'

'Still hasn't come in from Ancient Runes,' Ron answered. 'But she shouldn't be long now. It's nearly –'

As if on cue, the portrait hole opened again. Hermione's bushy hair preceded her into the Common Room. She found them with a smile that quickly faded into concern at their expressions.

'I need to talk to you,' Harry muttered as she joined them, before either of the others could speak. He jerked his head toward a far corner of the room, where there was one table mercifully still unoccupied. They followed in silence.

Harry repeated the events of the afternoon in a low whisper. Both Ron and Hermione had to lean in closely to hear around the din of the common room revelry.

'Oh Harry,' Hermione scoffed as Harry finished with the scene in the classroom. 'That woman's nothing but an old fraud. She was probably just doing it to frighten you; everyone knows now that Black's out for you. I don't think you should believe a single word of it!'

'You didn't see her, Hermione,' Harry said stubbornly. 'This wasn't like her usual rubbish. Her voice… it was completely different: harsh, and low. There was a whole magical field around her… and she really didn't seem to remember anything after she finished, not even when I quoted bits of it back to her. And afterward, when I went back down the ladder, Cho had waited for me. And she told me –'

'Cho waited for you?' Ron interrupted keenly. He wagged his eyebrows. 'Excellent, mate! Did you –'

'Not the point, Ron,' Harry cut across him. 'Listen.'

And he told them what Cho had relayed about Seers.

'But Harry,' Hermione rebuffed, 'Even if that is all true – Trelawney isn't a Seer. Not like that. You know she isn't.'

'Yeah…' Ron agreed, shaking his head. 'I think Hermione's right on this one, Harry. Trelawney was probably just trying to impress, you know. You were the last of the examinees – she wanted to end on a high note.'

'It wasn't like that,' Harry insisted, temper rising. 'You didn't see her, alright? You don't get it. And even Albus says she isn't a fraud… Or at least, not entirely.'

Hermione gave a disbelieving snort.

'Look,' Ron suggested, as Harry bristled again, 'If you really think it's something odd, why don't you just go to Dumbledore about it directly? It's not even supper time yet – he ought to be in his office.'

But Harry shook his head. 'Can't,' he said tersely. 'Dumbledore's with Hagrid, remember? They have that appeal today at the Ministry.'

'Professor McGonagall then,' Hermione suggested.

Her expression was triumphant, and Harry knew she thought the Transfiguration professor would take her side in this argument. She was probably right. But just now, he didn't much care. Tonight was full moon, which meant Remus wouldn't be able to do much of anything to help, if Pettigrew did make a break for it tonight. He was most likely already growing ill, this late in the afternoon. Sirius would be in the Shrieking Shack… and Harry had no way to get there without sneaking all the way through the village. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to get inside, even if he did manage to make it.

Minerva was the best option he had.

'Fine,' he agreed. 'Let's go to her now.'

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'All this, just to argue an appeal on a case you've already won?' Minerva asked incredulously, surveying the thick pile of neatly-furled scrolls the headmaster was stowing into a holdall.

Albus sighed. 'Most likely unnecessary,' he agreed. 'But I would rather be prepared for any contingency. Hagrid is exceedingly anxious… and I cannot say he is worried without cause.'

Minerva huffed indignantly. 'Surely not,' she disagreed. 'Lucius is as smug as a veela in heat, I'll grant you… but he cannot hope to succeed in this. Not after he has already lost in Committee. Not against you. And certainly not in front of the Wizengamot over which you preside.'

'I recused myself from hearing this case,' Albus reminded her.

Minerva rolled her eyes. 'Well of course,' she agreed. 'But you cannot recuse yourself from their minds, Albus. There is not a one among them who would not back your corner, whether your position is the correct one or not.'

Albus shook his head. He looked worried. 'I am not so certain,' he disagreed. 'There are those, I fear, who wish I would have a bit less influence in London… They are not the majority. Not yet, at any rate. But this is precisely the sort of circumstance in which they might press their advantage, while appearing to seem simply disinclined to favouritism.'

'Albus,' Minerva said in exasperation. 'Listen to yourself. You have spent too many years looking for the conspiracy in other men. This is a trial for a hippogriff; not the inquisition. Do you not think you are acting a trifle paranoid?'

Albus frowned, pausing in his preparations as he mused. 'Cornelius will sit in my stead,' he informed her softly. 'He sent word himself just last night.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'The Minister for Magic will preside over the appeal?' she clarified. 'That's preposterous.'

'It is chess,' Albus disagreed. 'And a calculated move, at that. It is an opportunity for those who are disconcerted to take his ear… to suggest that Hogwarts is not playing by all the Ministry rules, or that I am taken with my own agenda.'

'Even if that's true, it will never hold,' she said confidently. 'Fudge cannot fasten his boots without Flooing for your opinion on the colour.'

Albus' lips did not even twitch. 'Once, perhaps… but his desire for reassurance and advice grows less frequent,' he confided. 'He has been silent for months, in fact, until now. Even while Sirius remains uncaptured.'

Minerva frowned. 'Why?'

'I am not certain, precisely,' Albus confessed. 'But I suspect that Cornelius is a peace-time Minister. I have been making suggestion – for years – that Voldemort will not remain vanquished forever. It is my belief that this past year has made what he could once view as far-off future a bit too immediately possible for Cornelius. As the Ministry's failure to capture Sirius endures… his fear of what may come next grows stronger.'

'But… surely that would make him more likely to rely on you?' Minerva countered, her brow furrowed. She ignored, for the moment, her own fears on this line of discussion. 'If he believes You-Know-Who might rise again?'

The headmaster shook his head. 'Belief is relative,' he disagreed. 'Men may choose to believe what they can see and deduce to be true… but they are just as capable of blinding themselves to reality, when ignorance is preferable. Cornelius, I think, has been avoiding me to avoid thinking on the implications of a possible resurgence of the darkness in his peaceful world… and I fear that could bode very ill, should the worst come to pass.'

A chill was creeping up Minerva's spine. She forced herself to speak rationally, mastering the emotion. 'Still,' she reasoned, redirecting the conversation. 'A bridge to cross at another time, Albus. You-Know-Who remains as we left him a year ago – alone, unaided and in ruin. There is no sign as yet that he means to conquer a broom cupboard, let alone the Wizarding World. By the time we reach that hurdle… there might well be a new Minister for Magic. And I doubt whatever misgivings Cornelius may harbour will be taken out on the hippogriff.'

'Most likely not,' Albus agreed. 'Not yet, at least. I do not think Cornelius so far gone… But I would hate for Hagrid to suffer on my account. It is far better to be over-prepared, and vigilant, than complacent and remorseful.'

Minerva narrowed her eyes, suspicious. 'Did Alastor assist with the preparations?'

Albus gave a genuine laugh, and it eased her worry just a fraction.

'Perhaps you are right, my dear,' Albus allowed.

He finished placing the scrolls in the bag, and latched it closed with a flick of his hand. Minerva shrunk it for him out of habit, and Albus pocketed the case.

'I shall see you this evening?' he asked, coming over to kiss her farewell.

'Of course,' she agreed primly when they broke apart. 'I've spoken to Filius – he'll see to the castle until our return. Do you need anything brought to London?'

'Nothing additional,' Albus assured her. 'As I understand it from Barty, the scheme is to determine numbers for the delegations and see to it the proper departments in each government have been informed of the import arrangements…'

'Sounds riveting,' Minerva said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

Albus chuckled. 'I suspect it will be but the first of many, in the coming months before term.'

He kissed her briefly again on the cheek, and turned to leave the office.

It was almost ten hours later – just as Minerva was getting ready for her own departure – when a message from the headmaster finally arrived to inform her that Hagrid had won his appeal. The letter was concise, with no indication of the details. Minerva felt annoyed despite herself. She would have liked some suggestion of whether Albus' dark musings had come to any fruition before she stepped foot in the building that night for several hours in the Minister's presence.

She did not have long to brood, however. Almost as soon as she'd set the post aside, someone began rapping hard on the door to her study.

'Harry?' she asked in surprise, opening it to reveal Harry, Ron and Hermione on the threshold.

'Minerva,' Harry said, his voice sounding a bit more than desperate. 'Can… May we come in, please?'

Bewildered, she held the door open. The students filed in… Harry looking anxious, Ron Weasley mildly unnerved, and Hermione frowning in what might have been disapproval.

'What is it?' she pressed, closing the door softly without taking her eyes from Harry. 'Has something happened?'

Harry took a deep breath. 'I think Professor Trelawney made a prophecy,' he said.

Minerva pursed her lips, instantly irritated. 'What do you mean, "made a prophecy"?' she repeated in a clipped voice. 'If she has been spouting that nonsense about the Grim again…'

'No,' Harry said, shaking his head. 'It wasn't like that. Not this time. She went all… strange, like a real trance. I couldn't approach her: there was a magical barrier blocking me. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she was jerking about, like she was having a fit or something. And she said… she said that Voldemort was going to come back – to rise again. She said the servant that was chained or something was going to go back to him, tonight, before midnight. She said the servant would help him, and he would be greater and more terrible than he ever was.'

A twinge of true unease coloured Minerva's anger, but she slammed down hard on the impulse.

'I shall speak with her as soon as I return,' she promised hotly. 'What a foul way to end the examination period… she ought to be ashamed.'

Hermione gave a huff of agreement. Harry shot her a glare before replying to Minerva.

'You can try,' he said. 'But she won't know what you're talking about. I already tried to ask her… she doesn't remember anything. She thinks she just dozed off.'

The flicker of unease flared again. Minerva remembered her discussion with Albus two years ago, when he'd told her what the Seer had prophesised… how she had given Voldemort motive to go after Harry… and that she had had no memory of the fateful words.

But this was ridiculous. Sybill was a fraud who wallowed in the dramatic; and this prediction was as dramatic as they came. And even if the prophecy were true, prophecy was prophecy. It could not be outrun and it could not be changed. It either was or it was not.

And nearly everything Sybill said was not.

'Harry,' she said gently aloud, 'Professor Trelawney… she is not known for true predictions, whatever histrionic trance they might arise from. I do not know if this was a true moment of Sight or a clever parlour trick; but I do not think you should worry yourself about it on a day you should be celebrating the close of examinations.'

'But I can't not worry!' Harry retorted. 'What if he does escape tonight? While Albus is gone and Remus is – er – ill…' he said carefully.

The words served as a reminder. Minerva glanced at her own watch. She was already running ten minutes late. She sighed.

'Listen,' she said to the boy, who was now growing frantic. 'I must go – I was due at the Ministry ten minutes ago. I will tell –'

'You're leaving too?' Harry cut in, looking panicked.

'For a few hours,' she said, letting the interruption slide. 'Albus and I have a meeting with the Minister. But Remus and Severus will be watching, Harry, and Filius will be looking over the school. I will relay what you have told me to the headmaster as soon as I arrive in London.'

Harry was chewing his lip. She sighed again.

'Would you like to go down and see Hagrid for a bit?' she asked, trying to redirect his attention.

Ron's face brightened. 'Did he hear back, professor?' he asked eagerly. 'About Buckbeak?'

She smiled. 'He did,' she confirmed. 'I received a missive from the headmaster a little while ago indicating that they had won their appeal. Hagrid should have returned to the castle by now. I would consider letting you all go down to visit… if, of course, he agrees to walk you back up to the school before nightfall.'

Ron and Hermione both gave quick endorsement. Harry looked torn.

'Harry,' Minerva said, cupping his cheek. 'Go and see Hagrid. It will do you good to get your mind off all this unpleasantness.'

At last, the boy nodded.

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They passed many students heading into the Great Hall as they followed Minerva through the castle. Some turned to stare curiously at them as they passed, but Harry paid them no mind. He was too excited to see Hagrid to care… and too busy fighting the nagging prickling of goose pimples that he still could not shake from Trelawney's prediction.

The grounds were bathed in the golden light that heralded the end of a summer's day. Already, the sun was low over the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Minerva walked them briskly through the grounds, right up to Hagrid's front door.

'Mind you, do not go wandering back on your own,' she warned them as she leaned over Harry's head to knock. 'And do try to be back before night has fallen.'

'We will,' Harry promised quickly. He could hear Hagrid shuffling toward them from beyond the door. 'And you will tell Albus, won't you? When you see him? About what Trelawney –'

'I will, Harry, I promise,' Minerva vowed again. She brushed the top of his head. 'But I really wouldn't worry about it. That woman is nothing but trouble… and prophecies cannot be thwarted, even when they do have a basis in true Sight.'

This did not make Harry feel any better. But before he could voice this discontent, the massive door swung ajar.

'Yeh came!' Hagrid all but bellowed, sweeping forward to catch all three students in a bone-crushing hug. Minerva sidestepped his arms with a practised movement, grimacing a bit in sympathy as the others were released – red-faced and slightly winded.

'I must dash off to meet the headmaster,' she told Hagrid as he straightened. 'You'll be sure to see them back to the castle?'

'O yeah, won't be no problem,' Hagrid assured her. 'Come in – come in you lot. Have a cuppa. I made some rock cakes, if you're peckish…'

Harry glanced over his shoulder once more at Minerva before Hagrid shut the door. She gave him a smile and a small nod, before she hurried off down the path.

It became clear, almost at once, that Hagrid was not drinking tea. He poured Harry, Ron and Hermione steaming cups from the kettle, but he himself was clutching a tankard larger than Harry's cauldron… filled with something that smelled stronger than ale. Hermione raised an eyebrow as he took a deep pull from whatever it was, but none of them could bring themselves to criticise when Hagrid had been so worried for the past fortnight.

'So – er, everything worked out then?' Harry asked when Hagrid emerged, his face a bit ruddier.

'Peachy,' Hagrid agreed with a grin. 'Course, Lucius Malfoy weren't nothin' but slick – yeh know what he's like. An' I was worried he might'a threatened 'em or… well, the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's, and he were sittin' right behind him the whole time. He spoke firs'. But then Dumbledore got up and he said his piece fer me… an' they was all sittin' there stony-like – can' read a one of 'em, that Wizengamot. An' they asked us ter go out so they could debate… They kept us waitin' out there close ter three hours, an' I was gettin' nervous I'd had it. But then they called us back in, an' they said they agree with Dumbledore.'

Harry grinned. 'I knew you'd be alright, Hagrid,' he said, clinking his tea against the tankard. Hagrid took another long pull.

'Thanks,' he said, smiling back.

Ron punched the air with a whoop. 'Smarmy git got what he deserved!' he said with relish. 'What until I tell dad… he hates Lucius more than I hate Draco.'

'It really couldn't have gone any other way,' Hermione put in. She was beaming too. 'You were telling the truth, Hagrid,' she said. 'Buckbeak is alright.'

They celebrated for a good half-hour, Hagrid refilling his tankard twice as he gave them all the details he could of Dumbledore's argument to the Ministry. All three of the students put some of the food he'd laid out onto their plates, but only to appease him. None of them was fool enough to test the cooking.

After a while, Hagrid's conversation grew a bit more slurred, and far more stilted. Ron's stomach started to grumble, and even Harry – through all his simmering unease – was beginning to long for the supper he knew was waiting for them in the Great Hall…

'We should probably go back,' he sighed at last, standing up to peek out Hagrid's window. 'They might get worried if we don't – Hagrid?'

He turned back, wondering why the gamekeeper had not commented.

But Hagrid's eyes were drooping now. His head was lolling back and forth as though teetering on the edge of a cliff.

'Hagrid?' Hermione said tentatively, reaching up to touch his arm.

Harry yanked her back just in time. She gave a squeal as Hagrid's massive head went crashing down, coming to rest with a loud thunk! on the wood of the table.

'Oh!' Hermione breathed in concern. She bent forward, trying to brush Hagrid's mane of hair away from his nose and mouth. 'Do you think he's alright?'

Harry used both hands to push Hagrid's head to the side so he could peer at his forehead. There wasn't even a visible mark.

'He's fine,' he assured her, in mild surprise himself. 'I think he's just… passed out.'

'Too much drink,' Ron offered, nodding sagely. Harry shot him a curious look. Ron shrugged. 'I've seen it happen to my brothers,' he explained. 'He'll sleep it off, eventually. But he won't come to for a bit.'

Hermione bit her lip, still looking anxious. 'Do you think we ought to move him to the bed?' she suggested.

Ron snorted. 'And how're we supposed to manage that?' he asked. 'He's about twelve times our size, Hermione.'

Her eyes flashed. 'We could just levitate him,' she pointed out. 'After all Ron, are you a wizard, or not?'

Ron scowled at the parroted phrase. 'You don't want to mix drink and spellwork, Hermione,' he lectured. 'It has odd consequences, if you don't know what you're doing… I reckon we should just leave him here.'

So Harry fetched Hagrid's circus tent-sized quilt from the massive bed, and the three of them worked it round his shoulders instead. Harry felt awkward leaving Hagrid at the table… but he didn't even stir as they did their best to make him comfortable.

'Now what?' Hermione asked when they'd finished. Behind her, Fang gave a whimper from his cushion.

Harry shot a glance at his watch. 'We ought to get back up to the castle,' he decided. 'It'll be dark soon, and supper must be finished already, or nearly so.'

Ron moaned.

'Don't worry,' Harry said with a slight smile. 'I know the elves. We'll get something to eat.'

'We can't go on our own!' Hermione insisted. 'Especially you, Harry – we'll be in loads of trouble. Professor McGonagall said we had to go with Hagrid.'

Harry shrugged. 'We don't have much choice,' he pointed out. 'We can't spend the night here, Hermione. Minerva and Albus might not be back for ages. And I don't think Hagrid will be walking us anywhere any time soon…'

'We could Floo,' Ron suggested hopefully, looking at the hearth.

Harry shook his head. 'Hagrid doesn't Floo,' he told him. 'He doesn't keep powder. I don't even know if this fire's connected. And unless one of you knows how to send a message by Patronus, I think we're about out of options.'

They really did need to get back up to the castle… and even though Minerva would probably be miffed they'd gone on their own, he was fairly certain her ire would be Hagrid's problem, not his, this time. But Harry's desire to return to the castle, whatever his words to the others, went far deeper than an interest in supper that might not crack his teeth.

If the Seer was real… if the Prophecy was true…

He wanted to be at the school. He wanted to be there – to catch Pettigrew when he made to steal away to his master. And whatever Minerva might have said to the contrary, something in his very soul told him that this was the night it would happen, at long last.

'Fine,' Hermione agreed, though with obvious discontent. 'But let's go quickly, before it gets any later.'

The boys nodded, and Harry gave Hagrid one last glance before they ducked out of the cabin.

The grounds were still and quiet – whatever students might have been milling about clearly gone in to supper or common room celebrations. It was a balmy evening, with insects humming in the grass and the last vestiges of sunset still clinging to the purpling sky and the mullioned windows high on the hill. As they walked, Harry watched a couple of owls take flight from the owlery roost, and wondered if Hedwig had begun her hunting yet for the night.

They were only a few minutes out from Hagrid's hut when it happened.

There was an odd rustling; a squeaking in the grass.

To Harry's shock, Crookshanks' bottlebrush tail whipped suddenly against his legs, as the cat began chasing round their feet in a circle – claws out and teeth bared.

'Crookshanks, what –' Hermione began, reaching toward the cat in confusion. He dodged her.

Ron was scowling, predictably. 'Probably searching for another rat to – Merlin's pants, I don't believe it!'

His face suddenly arrested. The squeaking animal Crookshanks had been pursuing ran up the edge of his robes. Harry froze in horror as he recognised it too.

'It's Scabbers!' Ron went on. Hermione made a practised swipe through the air, intercepting Crookshanks as the cat took a flying leap at Ron.

'Darling, don't!' she cooed at Crookshanks, who was hissing and spitting madly in her grip.

Harry's blood was pounding in his ears. For a long moment, he was completely frozen – staring at the little grey rat… the Rat they'd been hunting fruitlessly for weeks now… the Rat who had started it all, taken it all…

The Servant of the Dark Lord.

The little animal had stopped his shaking, now that Hermione had the cat in a firm grip. Ron bent to lift him off his leg…

'Ron!' Harry cried, rushing toward him as time started up again in a burst of panic and horror. 'Ron – NO! DON'T TOUCH –'

The Rat turned his head at Harry's approach. For the most infinitesimal of moments, the beady black eyes locked with emerald…

Then the animal launched itself at Ron's outstretched hand – no, at his sleeve. There was a burst of light and Ron was thrown backward, hitting the ground hard with a shout of surprise. Hermione was screaming, and then she too was blasted backward. Crookshanks was hissing…

And a man stood before him, clutching Ron's wand in a slightly shaking hand with a stub where his index finger ought to have been. He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry, with grubby clothing that was slightly too big round the middle – as though he had once been rather fat, but lost a great deal of weight very quickly. He had the same small, shifty eyes as the rat he'd left behind, mousy hair that was balding in places, and a sinister leer as he stared hard at Harry.

'You knew,' he accused. His voice was high-pitched and breathy; almost a squeak. Harry wondered wildly whether it had always been that way, or if twelve years as a rat had taken his natural tone. 'I thought, perhaps, you had learned…'

'Yes, I knew,' Harry returned, as bravely as he could. 'You killed them, you traitorous –'

'Incarcerous!' the man spat, before Harry could finish, brandishing Ron's wand at him.

He was flung suddenly to the earth, bound from his feet to his chest as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He forced another gasp of air in past the pain.

'Run!' Harry tried to shout at Ron and Hermione, who were both on their feet again and moving toward the pair. 'Run! Get someone – Remus, Sn–'

His voice was cut off as a wad of filthy fabric was shoved forcibly between his teeth. He choked on the gag, spots momentarily dancing in his vision as the man tapped his lips, muttering another charm to seal it.

'Impedimenta!' Pettigrew shouted.

There was another bang, and Ron and Hermione were both thrown to the ground again. Harry heard a nasty crack and an even louder roar. Craning his neck, he could see Ron clutching his leg – his face screwed up in pain. Neither he nor Hermione – who was lying quite still several feet away – seemed able to rise. Harry looked around in panic, but there was no sign of anyone else in the grounds.

He felt hot breath on his neck, and heard another muttered charm. A curious lightness spread over his limbs, and he knew Pettigrew had cast a spell to make it easier to drag him off. He tried in vain to struggle – both physically and with his magic. The bonds refused to yield, but the struggle seemed to frustrate his captor.

'Cr-crucio!' Pettigrew said, pointing his wand at Harry.

The spell was nowhere near as powerful as the curse he'd undergone the previous summer, but Harry felt white-hot pain rack him all the same. He willed himself not to throw up – knowing he might suffocate with the gag obscuring his mouth.

Wormtail did not hold the spell long, but it was enough to temporarily end Harry's struggle as he tried to master the agony. He could hear Hermione moaning as she began to stir. Ron was pulling himself bodily toward them, even as Pettigrew began to drag Harry across the grass.

'Can't apparate in the grounds,' Pettigrew was saying, huffing with the effort even though he'd cast a spell on Harry. 'Have to move… Can't be seen…'

'Harry!' Ron shouted. 'Hermione, come –'

'Silencio!'

Ron's words were cut off, as Pettigrew's spell smacked him full in the face. They were growing farther away now; Pettigrew hauling him backward. After a minute or two they stopped, and Harry's head thunked off the ground as he was released. He wondered, in blind hope, whether someone had spotted them at last… but then the man came into sight, fumbling along the ground. He emerged with a long, thin stick, muttering to himself.

Then he disappeared again. A few moments later, Harry could feel himself being heaved backward once more. Long, thick boughs came into view overhead, obscuring the twilight. And then Harry was being pulled down at an angle, disappearing into what appeared to be a hole in the ground… and he realised.

He was being pulled into the Whomping Willow.

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'Your slothful pace is truly repugnant.'

Severus stood on the threshold to the wolf's quarters once more, where he had been tapping an impatient foot in the corridor for the better part of three full minutes. When his colleague finally bothered to answer the call, he was even more haggard and dishevelled than his usual disagreeable appearance.

'I was sleeping,' Lupin complained, stepping aside to allow Severus entrance. 'I did not hear the knock. Though I think I could have awoken without the aid of the Howler.'

Severus shrugged, indifferent. He had been hoping for an opportunity to use that particular method for some time now.

'If you did not choose to laze away the afternoon, it would not have been needed,' he pointed out.

Lupin scowled. 'You know perfectly well it is full moon. I cannot help it. And I am not particularly pleasant when suddenly awoken this time of the month… that poor elf you sent to open the missive at my bedside thought I might murder her when it went off.'

Severus glared. 'You had better pray you did not, should you wish to keep breathing,' he warned. 'She is my personal favourite.'

Lupin rolled his eyes, but did not deign to reply. Severus thrust the smoking goblet of potion he was clutching at the man. 'You missed coming to retrieve this this afternoon,' he said pointedly.

Lupin took it, but did not drink. He set the goblet onto a table just inside the door, rubbing at his eyes. Severus' glower increased.

'I'll have it, in a moment,' the wolf assured him. 'But it makes me ill at the first swallow if I take it right after awakening. I need a few minutes.'

'It was careless not to come at five, then,' Severus said without sympathy. 'For someone who claims to be such a tame wolf – so attune to the precautions necessary to manage your condition and the safety of this castle – you are growing dangerously blasé, Lupin.'

The werewolf glared in earnest. 'I appreciate your dropping it by,' he said stiffly. 'But I am not blasé, Severus. Merely busy, of late. I have to keep an eye on the Map as often as –'

'And that is why I have come,' Severus finished for him. 'I would have sent an elf with the potion… but I want the Map.'

Lupin furrowed his brow. 'You can't watch, tonight,' he said with a frown. 'You know that. Even with the potion, it may not be safe for you to –'

'You misunderstand,' Severus interrupted. 'I do not care to watch with you, wolf. I wish to have it, for the night.'

There was a beat of silence as Lupin stared at him, dumbstruck.

'No,' he said at last. 'No, you can't. I have to –'

'You can do nothing, even if you see something,' Severus pointed out harshly. 'You will be out of commission through the morning, Lupin. Already your condition has rendered you useless… sleeping in the daylight, when anything could be happening…'

'I keep my mind,' Lupin said defensively. 'With the potion, I keep my mind. I was able to watch just fine the last time I –'

'A mistake,' Severus insisted. 'And not one I shall allow repetition. Particularly not on a night when both Albus and Minerva have gone to London for Merlin knows how long…'

'Gone?' Remus repeated sharply. 'Why? Since when?'

Severus glared. 'If you bothered to turn up in the Great Hall or for any of the past fortnight's staff meetings,' he pointed out with a sneer. 'Then perhaps you would know. They left for a summit on that ridiculous Tournament that Albus has allowed the Ministry to –'

'Who is doing patrol?' Lupin asked, looking suddenly wild.

Severus raised an eyebrow. 'That is my point, you fool!' he spat. 'Tonight lies with me alone. And I suppose that idiot you call a friend, should anything happen… So for the love of –'

But Lupin had turned, shuffling toward the bedroom and muttering to himself.

'I shouldn't have slept,' Severus could hear him ranting through the little quarters. 'I thought, just an hour or so… get ready for the night. Someone would see if anything –'

He reappeared, holding the worn parchment before him and scanning it. Severus yanked it flat against the back of the sofa so he could see as well. His eyes raked the corridors – particularly the seventh floor… but there was no sign of Pettigrew that he could –

'HARRY!' Lupin shouted suddenly, just as Severus had been about to snatch the parchment up. 'MY GOD, NO! SEV –'

But Severus did not need the wolf to finish. He had seen it too, when he moved his hand.

In a far-flung corner of the parchment, four tiny ink dots were moving… and even as they watched, those labelled 'Harry Potter' and 'Peter Pettigrew' squeezed out of view, disappearing beneath the Whomping Willow…

'NO!' Severus roared.

He knew it. He'd just fucking known something would happen… Potter could never be trusted to act prudently – never be trusted not to sneak round on his own… And that idiot wolf had been sleeping, and Minerva and Albus were gone…

And the man who'd killed Lily was HERE: was in the grounds. Was with her son.

He blasted the door clear away in his anger, hurtling into the corridor with his wand drawn and a deadly curse already building in his heart.

The wolf scrambled to follow, still stammering as he ran in Severus' wake.

Neither wizard bothered to fix the door back into place.

Nor did either think of the forgotten goblet: still full and smoking on the spindly table in the entryway.

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Review Responses, Chapter 39

AlsoKnownAsMatt: Thank you for reviewing! Hmm… Ron – I'm always of two minds. Sometimes he drives me mental, and other times I love him despite his faults. Won't make promises to off him in the next book… but I also won't promise that everyone lives to the end, either. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Guest: Thanks for your review! Another Ron-centric one… I feel I've incited a bit of a Ron-battle with this last instalment. I've commented a bit about my feelings for him above, but yes… I prefer him when he's being a loyal friend as well. :) Enjoy Chapter 40!

Estel Ashlee Snape: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and the Quidditch match; I had fun bringing Bathilda and Aberforth back into the mix for some fresh commentary. Hope you like the next one!

Anyeshabaner: Thanks for reviewing! And good deduction… If only the others knew! I hope you like Chapter 40!

Leonore: Thank you for reviewing! Very happy you are still liking the book so much, and I hope you enjoy the latest instalment!

Mwinter1: Thanks for reviewing! I tried to post quickly this time… I hope you enjoy the continuation!

MystifyingtheMarauders (Chapter 38): Thank you for your review! I'm glad you are liking the character development and the story, and appreciate your compliment! I hope you enjoy the wind-up.

MoonshineMadame: Thanks for reviewing, and welcome back! I hope everything is going well preparing for graduation, and wish you the best for your ball! (It is Friday afternoon as I write this, so I suppose if the chapter posts after the ball, I intend to say here I hope it was fun!)

Glad you enjoyed the chapters! Bathilda is a character that there's so much left to fill in for, so it's fun to explore her personality a bit and I'm happy you like that. Haha, and yes, I think Lee was quite mortified at the end… As to Sirius, yes he doesn't make a big appearance in Chapter 39, but as you've said he was really the driving force in the past few chapters, so it was time to give him a rest for a bit. Unsurprisingly, he'll factor heavily into the end of the book.

The Room of Requirement! So it's interesting that you're questioning who knows about it… because I debated this while writing. It's not on the Marauder's Map, as we know from canon and holds true here. In canon OOTP, Harry says maybe the Marauders did not know about it, while Hermione suggests it may be part of the magic of the room… so I suppose it's ambiguous. I chose to go with them not knowing about it… because I think it fits better with my story for a few strategic reasons – which hopefully will become clear over the course of the book(s).

I hope you like Chapter 40!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thank you for your review! Glad you're liking it… lots of tension, haha. Enjoy Chapter 40!

Kitsunewithin: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're liking the stories and hope you continue to! I understand about the beginning… I am sure a lot of readers felt that way about a canon-based story, but it was necessary in order to set up the vector-approach to this fanfic that I'm aiming for over the course of what will be a pretty long series and to delve into the characters in the way I was hoping to explore them. But I'm glad you stuck with it, and have had the chance to see now where that aim has been taking us, and I'm very happy to hear that you're liking it! Enjoy Chapter 40!