A/N: Alright my darlings… penultimate chapter! Thank you for your patience as this one went through the editing process – I know it was longer than anticipated. I hope you are all as excited as I am… for as early as end of week-end (and no later, I expect, than mid-week next), we will finally conclude Part II and embark on the perilous journey that will be Part III!

The title to this chapter, for those who are unfamiliar with the phrase, comes from traditional 'Game Theory' analytics. I would explain it here, but it is rather complex and would probably make for an overlong A/N. I encourage you to look it up yourselves, however, as it is a fascinating concept.

Enjoy 'The Prisoner's Dilemma', and please read and review!

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

Chapter 42: The Prisoner's Dilemma

'Long day, I would imagine?'

Albus lifted his gaze from the scroll he'd been perusing at the sound of Minerva's voice; he hadn't even noticed her arrival. He smiled as he watched her walk around the huge, circular table toward him.

The chamber was one of the Ministry's most ostentatious – used primarily by the Minister himself when meeting with foreign dignitaries. Candles in shades of violet and blue flickered in ornate silver and gold chandeliers overhead. The floor was marble of the deepest black, flecked with gold. Portraits of a dozen stately witches and wizards – all former Ministers themselves – hung at intervals between the many sconces set upon the high, rounded walls. In the centre of the room sat the chamber's only furniture: a great, perfectly round table with twelve high-backed chairs of equal height. The table was reminiscent, deliberately, of Merlin's gift to Arthur.

Albus was unsurprised that Fudge had chosen this room for negotiations with their visiting foreign guests. British wizarding elegance… or snobbery, depending on how you viewed the world. Steeped in their oldest and most treasured tradition, as so much of the Ministry was.

Albus was not sure how wise it was to cling to every facet of the past.

'Not short,' he allowed as the Transfiguration professor drew near. 'But I dare say I have had longer.'

He pulled out the chair next to him, offering Minerva the place wordlessly. She took it, and smoothed out the skirts of her robes as she sat.

'And was the hearing with the Wizengamot as gloomy a prospect as you imagined it might be?' she inquired.

Albus furrowed his brow. He shot a quick privacy charm around them, shielding their conversation from whatever portraits might be feigning their slumber. Artemisia Lufkin scratched irritably at the end of her nose.

'No,' the headmaster said slowly. 'Or, at least, not so far as to count it a loss for Hagrid or myself. But I do suspect that someone had bent Cornelius' ear… they were a very long time in coming to their decision.'

Minerva wrinkled her nose. 'And how was Fudge?' she asked.

Albus deliberated the query for a moment. 'Distant,' he decided at last. 'But not swayed, ultimately, by whoever might have attempted to sow the seeds of dissention. It was clear that he did not relish incurring Lucius Malfoy's wrath… but I expect he decided to risk my own was a greater damnation.'

'A wise decision, then,' Minerva approved. She pulled the scroll so it lay between them, scanning the list of proposals up for compromise tonight. She sighed. 'Really?' she complained, indicating number 37, 'The Weird Sisters or Celestina Warbeck? How is that even up for discussion?'

Albus snorted. 'Indeed,' he agreed with a chuckle. He gave a sigh of his own. 'Unfortunately, I have not yet been in one of these meetings where we did not debate every serviette placement until the small hours of the morning. I suspect Igor cannot help himself.'

Minerva grunted in agreement. 'To be fair, Olympe is quite finnicky herself, if memory serves.'

'Hmm,' Albus said noncommittally. 'What news from the castle?' he redirected.

Minerva sighed again. 'Not much to report,' she said. 'All was fairly quiet when I left this evening. A spot of bother in the Hufflepuff common room earlier from some post-exam revelry, but nothing Pomona could not deal with. There was a moment between Harry and Sybill…'

'What sort of moment?' Albus asked, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. Minerva raised an eyebrow before responding.

'The Sybill sort,' she said pointedly. 'Blethering on about You-Know-Who rising again, according to Harry.'

Albus felt his blood chill slightly. The candles overhead flickered in response. He shot a glance at his pocket watch – they only had five minutes or so before the others were due to start arriving.

'What, precisely, did Harry tell you?'

'That when he visited her classroom to sit his examination, Sybill told him that the Dark Lord would rise again, with his servant's assistance,' she replied. 'He was quite unnerved – came down to see me not long after, with Weasley and Ms Granger. He said that Sybill claimed not to remember any of it, when he questioned the prediction.'

Albus' frown deepened, and Minerva's eyes grew disapproving.

'Albus, not you too,' she chastised. 'Honestly… I know what your history with Sybill has been, but that was one prophecy, and it was nearly fifteen years ago. Don't you think it far more likely she was merely celebrating the end of term in her own unique manner? After all, if every prospect of doom Sybill has uttered came to pass, we would be living in a smoking hovel by now… if we were alive at all.'

'Perhaps,' Albus allowed. 'But I am less sanguine on this score, my dear. What you are describing bears notable resemblance to the incident I witnessed that January night, not least because Sybill did not have conscious memory of that prophecy either.'

Minerva huffed impatiently… but Albus could see the flash of disquiet behind her spectacles. He was scaring her, with this talk of prophecy. He did not doubt that the words of Trelawney's first prediction were echoing in the recesses of her mind… as they were in his own.

'I shall speak to Harry about it myself, when we have returned,' he decided. 'Tonight, however –'

'Ah, good evening Dumbledore, Minerva.'

Albus vanished their privacy charm wordlessly, leaning back from his huddle with Minerva and hitching a pleasant smile back on his face as Bartemius Crouch entered the room – prompt to the second, as usual, his arms laden down with carefully stacked files. Ludo Bagman hurried through the door in his wake, bouncing in his boots with excitement. The former Beater was empty handed.

'All sorted then?' Bagman asked gleefully as he found his own seat. 'Excellent, excellent. Others should be here soon, I expect. Lots to get through tonight, eh? And Barty here's got a bone to pick with the merfolk's involvement…'

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'SIRIUS – GET THEM OUT!'

Watching Remus contort in the sitting room of the Shrieking Shack, Harry was nearly numb with shock.

Sirius, however, wasted no time. He shoved his wand between his teeth, copped hold of Harry's arm with his rope-free hand, and yanked both him and Pettigrew toward the cavernous hole that had once been the doorway to the passage.

Ron and Hermione were closest to the way out: both frozen and staring, transfixed, at the Defence professor.

'GO!' Sirius shouted at them.

He shoved Harry and Pettigrew through first. Harry thought for certain he would crash arse over face down the stairs… but the second Sirius tossed him, Hermione came out of her stupor. She screamed a Cushioning charm, and Harry saw a flash of violet light beat him to the impact. It softened Harry's bounce as he and the traitor descended in a heap. Moments later, Sirius had thrust Ron and Hermione through as well. They landed beside him, Ron's face screwed up again from pain. He gave a stifled moan.

Sirius launched himself over the threshold.

'Snape!' Harry cried, as his godfather made for the stairs. 'We can't just –'

Sirius muttered an oath, but he turned. Harry could hear snarling above. He knew the werewolf was feet from them.

Sirius gave a jerk of his wand, and Snape's limp form shot out into the passage. The Potion Master's feet had barely cleared the gaping hole before the werewolf's face appeared at the edge of the tattered entryway. He was fully formed now: more than six feet long, with talons like daggers; gleaming, three-inch teeth; and huge, oddly human eyes filled with nothing but bloodlust. His hackles were raised as he crouched, ready to spring…

'Muri Fictilis!' Sirius bellowed.

He brandished his wand like the handle of a whip. A massive, solid wall sprang into being where minutes ago the gap had been, closing the passage just in time. They heard thick nails tearing at the reformed wall, but the wolf was no longer able to pounce.

'Will it hold?' Hermione gasped as she helped Ron to his feet.

Sirius bent, tightening several of Peter's bonds by hand.

'For a time,' he said darkly. 'But not forever. The willow will contain him, if we can manage to get out before he breaks through the barrier. We need to move – now.'

The others did not require a repeated warning. Harry hurried to help Hermione on Ron's other side, turning them on an awkward angle so they could shuffle through the low-ceilinged passage.

'We could drag him?' Harry offered, nodding his head at Pettigrew. The man's muffled whimpering could be heard even through the gag. 'You don't have to manage both him and Snape…'

Sirius snorted. 'I want neither of them outside my grasp,' he said through gritted teeth. He cast the same charm on Pettigrew that the latter had set on Harry to drag him through the willow's roots, before levitating the Potions professor off the earthen floor. Harry winced as he saw Snape's head crack nastily against a jutting rock in the light from Hermione's wand.

'Do you have to be so rough with him?' Harry muttered, still feeling quite guilty for his part in Snape's current indisposition.

Sirius and Ron made identical noises of disgust, but Sirius lowered his wand a fraction to take Snape's skull out of immediate danger. The scrabbling continued at the newly-minted wall, sounding rather as though it were the flimsy barricade between a tiger and a lamb.

Which, Harry reminded himself with another swoop of horror, it essentially was.

Hermione gave another squeal of terror.

'Go,' Sirius said, nodding the others ahead. 'And quickly.'

They went.

Moving Ron was hard work. The bandaging did seem to help his leg, but he was still having trouble putting his full weight on it, and Harry and Hermione could not walk on either side given the narrow confines of the space. Instead, Hermione went in front with the lit wand, half-dragging Ron along, while Harry provided his own arm for support at Ron's back.

Behind them, Harry could tell Sirius was struggling with his own double-burden.

'This would be easier if you would keep still, Peter!' he growled. 'If you think this blubbering will make me less likely to kill you, you are sadly mistaken.'

Harry half-turned in his crouch, frowning back at his godfather while trying not to accidentally twist Ron's arm out of its socket.

'Why don't you just stun him, if he's that much of a pain?' he suggested. 'It would be easier then to drag him along…'

'No,' said Sirius gruffly. 'I don't want to give him the courtesy. I want him in fear… I want him to feel every inch of this – every second that his doom grows closer. Stunning him is the easy way out.'

Harry stared.

Sirius sighed. 'Keep moving,' he said, nodding Harry forward. 'It's harder to keep Snivellus aloft when we're still like this… and Remus may be along any moment.'

Harry jumped slightly, and he hurried to comply. Hermione had already pulled Ron from his grip, helping him along the passage herself as Harry dawdled. The tunnel was darker with her wandlight so far away, and Harry lit his own to compensate. A few spiders scuttled out of its beam. From behind them, Harry could still hear the wolf's snarling.

'Why do you call him Snivellus?' Harry asked, trying to distract himself from rising panic.

Sirius gave a short laugh. 'I have no idea where it came from,' he admitted. 'Sometime when we were at school, but I can't remember now when it was, exactly. We always hated each other…'

Harry frowned, glad Sirius could not see his face. He was no great fan of Snape's either; but he didn't understand the level of sheer contempt both men showed for one another.

'I sent him down here, once,' Sirius recalled aloud. 'We were fifteen, I think. He'd been nosing about as usual, trying to get us all into trouble… making insinuations about Remus – guessing, correctly, why he was so often out of lessons at the full moon. He'd spied on him, like James and I did when we first suspected something was amiss. He'd seen Madam Pomfrey lead him out to the Willow…'

Harry paused again. He felt Snape's form smack into him, floating as it was between himself and Sirius in the passage.

'Move, Harry!' Sirius hissed. 'Remus –'

'What do you mean, you sent Snape down here?' Harry asked slowly, still unmoving. 'Down the tunnel? To a werewolf?!'

Sirius was scowling, Harry thought. It was hard to be sure with Hermione and her wandlight so much further down the tunnel.

'Well not to a werewolf,' he hedged. 'I just told him if he prodded the knot at the base of the trunk, he'd be able to see where Remus got to.'

'That was nasty,' Harry said, more upset than he'd thought he'd be. 'What did you think was going to happen? What if he'd got attacked? What if he died, Sirius?'

'You sound like James,' Sirius muttered.

For the first time in the dozens that he'd said the words – or similar ones – to Harry, his voice was not enthused.

'It was just a laugh, Harry. I didn't think Snape would be stupid enough to actually do it… but it didn't matter, in any case. James went mental when I told him, and he went and saved Snape's greasy neck before anything could happen. Dumbledore threatened to expel me, and Remus didn't speak to me through the whole of the next three months. And, of course, Snape had seen Remus – at the end of the tunnel. There wasn't an inner door to the Shack; not then…'

Harry remembered asking Snape about Remus, all those months ago when he'd first figured out that the Defence professor was a werewolf… how Snape had refused to answer Harry's query, when he'd asked how Snape had found out. He remembered too Dumbledore's words two years ago, when he'd come to visit Harry in hospital wing. How he'd told Harry that Snape had protected him throughout the year because he owed his father a debt: that James Potter had saved Snape's life.

Now he knew how.

'You shouldn't have done it,' Harry said stubbornly.

'No,' Sirius agreed. 'Probably not. But we were fifteen, Harry. Thinking though consequences was not a particular talent – not for any of us. Snape included. He gave as well as he took. That was neither the first nor the last time one of us crossed a serious line.'

Harry was about to reply, but a muffled crash resounded through the tunnel. A few rocks were shaken loose from the ceiling, tumbling down on their heads.

'Remus,' Sirius said. 'Fuck! Harry – GO!'

Hermione screamed his name from up ahead, and Harry could hear Ron shouting for him too. Sirius let Snape fall to the ground as he spun on his knees, shooting another of his barriers out to block the way they'd come. Harry heard the werewolf begin to wrestle with it mere moments after they'd started their progress again.

But they were close, now. In just minutes, they caught up at last to the others. Hermione was trying to hoist Ron up through the opening, but the Willow's branches were swiping about dangerously. Ron already had two vicious-looking cuts across one cheek.

'I've tried Freezing and Shield Charms already,' she told them frantically as Harry and Sirius joined. 'But they don't seem to –'

'Move,' Sirius growled at them, handing Harry Pettigrew's ropes. He scaled the damp slide in three long bounds and reached an arm up expertly through the gap in the roots, shooting a spell from his wand at the knot. The branches froze, as they had done on their entrance.

'Come on,' he said, balancing precariously at the top of the gap and reaching for Ron.

He yanked the boy through first, shoving him as gently as time would allow to his back in the grass. Hermione went next, then Harry – with Pettigrew in tow. Sirius levitated Snape through last, before climbing out himself.

They all lay on the ground for a moment – exhausted; backs aching from the miles of underground passage. Sirius barely had the strength to keep his wand trained on Pettigrew. Luckily, the man had not dared to try to transform.

'We should go,' Hermione said after a moment. 'This thing doesn't stay still very long…'

Sirius grunted in agreement, flopping over and pushing laboriously to his feet.

Harry had no sooner got his feet under him then he heard a howl rent the night, weirdly echoing out from the tunnel through the entrance. It was close – the wolf had clearly broken the second barrier.

Ron was swearing, dragging himself out from under the willow's shadow. 'He'll rip straight through!' he muttered, looking panicked. He tried to hoist himself up on his unsteady leg again, but faltered almost at once.

'He'll catch us… he'll catch us…' Hermione moaned. She was on her back in the grass, scrambling toward the path on her elbows. Her face was filthy from the passage, and her eyes were terrified. She had her wand drawn and pointed at the entryway, but all of them knew magic would be no help if the werewolf managed to break through the entrance.

'He won't,' Sirius promised. 'Come on – we have to get out of range first… it might not start up again on its own in time.'

He helped Hermione to her feet with the hand not dragging Pettigrew. Harry got Ron off the ground. Snape, he saw, Sirius had already placed onto a stretcher that floated behind them. He ushered them all into the grass beyond the reach of the perilous branches, and shot another spell at the knot that froze the tree.

The Willow's limbs began to swing once more. Harry noticed that several were whipping down toward the entrance to the passage itself. He heard a whinge – like a dog in pain.

Sirius winced.

'But… but you just froze the enchantment from inside the tunnel yourself!' Harry pointed out. 'Won't he just be able to stick a leg out or something and –'

'No,' Sirius interrupted, confidently. 'It isn't the first time we've had to get away in a rush, Harry,' he assured him. 'The spell holds, I promise. And he will be safe there until the moon wanes again.'

The werewolf gave another high yowl from the passage. Harry shivered.

'It's enchanted, specifically for him,' Sirius explained to the trio. 'It was brought here to keep him in… as much as to keep others out. He will not be able to pass through into the grounds, without assistance stopping the branches. Dumbledore enchanted the tree himself.'

'You're sure?' Ron asked anxiously, looking as though trusting the man he'd thought was the most notorious prisoner in Azkaban for most of his life was something he could not quite countenance.

'I am positive,' Sirius said.

For the first time that evening, he was smiling – the true, youthful smile that Harry had only seen a handful of times since he'd met his godfather. It made him look twenty years younger.

'This is it,' he said, holding out his Pettigrew-free hand to grasp Harry by the shoulder. 'This is everything, Harry.'

He yanked on the ropes slightly. Wormtail whimpered again.

Harry grinned back. 'I know,' he agreed.

He could scarcely believe it himself. Nearly a year lived in panic… months of fruitless searching… and now, they were just minutes away from an end to it all. And he would have his godfather back. Truly back. In the open, like they were meant to be. No more secret meetings shut up in the headmaster's study; no more keeping the truth from his friends.

No more lies.

'Come on,' Sirius said. 'We have to get you lot back up to the castle. Speak to Dumbledore, and turn this traitorous bit of slime over to the Ministry.'

Harry nodded grimly. His head was still reeling with the madness of the night. He draped Ron's arm around his shoulder, and Hermione hurried to help on the opposite side.

'Will he be back yet, do you think?' she asked Harry as the little group started their slow way across the pitch-black grounds.

'I dunno…' Harry said slowly.

It was odd, really, now he thought about it. He would have expected Dumbledore to have arrived by now; would have thought he'd come at once, if he discovered Harry and the others were not with their House. Even if his meeting in London hadn't yet drawn to a close… surely Remus or Snape would have sent for him, when they'd discovered that Pettigrew had taken Harry.

But then, how had they discovered that, in the first place?

'Did you two get Remus and Snape?' he asked Ron and Hermione aloud. 'Before you came down there tonight?'

'No,' Hermione denied. She was slightly breathless from the effort of hauling Ron all evening. 'We didn't see anyone else in the grounds.'

Harry frowned. If it hadn't been Ron and Hermione… then it must have been the Map.

Which still did not explain the headmaster's absence.

'We didn't have time to get back up to the castle, mate,' Ron put in – apparently misunderstanding Harry's expression. 'He'd dragged you down – we weren't about to leave you Merlin knows where, all on your own.'

'You should have gone back,' Sirius opined from behind them. 'I could have taken care of it. That passage dumped Harry and the traitor right at my feet.'

Ron grunted. 'Yeah, well, how were we to know that?' he challenged. 'And besides, we didn't know you were innocent, did we? Even if we'd known you were there…'

'I am sorry for that,' Harry apologised again. 'I should have told you both. If I had, maybe none of this would have happened tonight.'

There was a somewhat sticky silence. Hermione cleared her throat.

'Anyway,' she said, 'His – Pettigrew's – last spell sort of dazed me for a bit. I came round in time to see you pulled under the willow. I was able to help Ron up, and we followed as quickly as we could. We probably should have gone back to the castle… but really, Harry, we had no idea –'

'I know,' Harry said hastily. 'And thanks – both of you. Really. It… it means a lot, that you came.'

Hermione gave a somewhat watery smile, before suddenly looking him over with a very intense expression. 'I saw him put that awful spell on you,' she told him in a low voice. 'You're certain you're alright?'

'What spell?' Sirius asked sharply. 'What did he do to you?'

'Nothing,' said Harry quickly, eying Sirius' grip on Pettigrew's ropes with trepidation. 'He cast a bunch of spells on us when he was dragging me off, obviously… but I wasn't injured.'

'Not injured?' Ron echoed in disbelief. 'Have you lost your marbles, Harry? It was the Cruciatus curse! You're lucky it didn't boil you brai–'

'He did WHAT?!' Sirius bellowed, halting his own stride entirely.

He let Snape's stretcher tumble to the earth, yanking the whimpering and bound form of Peter Pettigrew toward his feet along the ground. He raised his wand arm high, his face twisted in a rage as dangerous as the Potions Master's had been back in the shack.

'Sirius – no!' Harry said, releasing Ron for a moment so he could grasp the wizard's raised arm. He was more careful, this time, not to let his magic act out on its own. 'And stop shouting! Do you want the castle to wake before we're –'

'I'll kill you,' Sirius snarled at the rat, trying and failing to wrench his wand arm free. 'I will kill you, you foul – you murderous little –'

'Sirius!' Harry growled, tugging harder. 'Stop! There's a point to all this, remember? It's almost over… don't ruin it now. I'm fine.'

'Fine?!' Sirius repeated, glaring at Harry now. 'FINE?! Impossible. Harry, you don't understand. The Cruciatus Curse… it is an unforgivable spell. It can drive a wizard out of his mind with –'

'I know,' Harry said quickly. 'But it didn't, Sirius. His wasn't even that strong, to be frank. Not nearly as bad as the ones from last summer, anyway.'

Sirius dropped his own wand arm, staring at Harry in shock.

'You've been hit with this spell before?' he clarified, looking ill. 'What the hell is going on in this madhouse?'

'Never mind that now,' said Harry. 'It's a long story. And we need to get going, before the shouting –'

But he broke off, both in his speech and his walk.

Through the balm of the summer's eve, he was suddenly frozen.

'No,' Harry whispered desperately, as all around them the grounds began to chill as though June had fallen suddenly into January. 'No – not now. We're almost there!'

But there was no doubt about it. Dementors were coming.

Dementors were swarming.

As all of them froze, horrified, more than one hundred tall, hooded figures glided out from every direction – through the mist that surrounded the lake, over the hills that led to the Quidditch pitch, and up the path from the gates. They were encircling the three students, Sirius, Pettigrew and the unconscious Snape, bringing their darkness and chill with them.

Victorious, at last, in their own hunt.

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'All I am saying, Olympe,' Karkaroff began huffily, 'Is that I thought we'd agreed on eight short-listed contenders? Now you expect me to –'

'You may do as you see fit,' Madame Maxime returned, supremely indifferent. 'I shall be bringing twelve.'

Karkaroff swelled like a bullfrog. 'Twelve?!' he repeated. 'Twelve! Madame, you do realise that Durmstrang has already finished for term. I made my selections before the school dismissed! It is unconscionable to expect that I could –'

'Oh, l'horreur!' she mocked with a gasp. 'Et vous devrez peut-être envoyer quelques lettres pendant les vacances d'été? Eh bien, nous ne pourrions pas avoir cela maintenant, pouvons-nous?'

'See here, woman –'

'You could keep to your original eight,' Albus suggested politely. 'Hogwarts is happy to accommodate as many guests as you wish, of course. But, after all, only one from each school can compete…'

'And have Durmstrang under-represented?' Igor retorted, glaring. 'Dumbledore, I could not –'

'Is this quite productive?' Minerva interrupted loudly.

Albus did not know why she bothered. All in, he thought tonight's disputes had been rather less heated than their usual. But then, Minerva had not been privy to quite as many of these discussions as himself.

As Igor stammered an indignant reply, a young, short, and quite harried looking wizard came bursting through the doors, running at a crouch along the table toward Cornelius' seat. Albus recognised the man as Hubert Jarvis, a recent Hogwarts graduate who had taken a position as a page in Fudge's office. The others paid him no mind – engaged in their heated debate – but Albus watched him intently as he made his surreptitious way toward his boss.

The little wizard bustled anxiously to Cornelius' side and whispered something urgently in his ear. Albus saw the Minister's jaw drop, his face paling considerably. His eyes flicked for just a moment in the headmaster's direction, but he darted the gaze away again before Albus could register his thoughts.

'Zere is something ze matter, Minister?' Olympe inquired politely, breaking from the argument.

Fudge cleared his throat. 'Oh, erm, no, Madame, nothing to, er, trouble you all with. If you would excuse me, for just a moment…'

He had already gained his own feet. He shot another half-glance toward Albus' seat, but hustled away after his frantic aide without further explanation. Albus watched him go with a slight frown.

'Well then,' Ludo put in, scooting his own chair closer to the round table. 'Shall we crack on? I'm sure Cornelius wouldn't mind if we commenced the discussion on staging for the first task – Magical Games is not really his area of expertise, after all…'

Albus allowed Minerva to take the lead as half the group broke into spirited debate on the podium sizing. He himself contributed little to the new argument, eying the door where Cornelius had disappeared.

The Minister reappeared a few minutes later, looking just as pale as when he'd left them.

'Everything alright, Cornelius?' Albus asked politely.

'What – oh, yes, just fine, Albus,' the Minister replied, though he still seemed somewhat frazzled. Albus noted that he did not meet his eyes as he said it, nor as he pulled out his chair to seat himself at the table once more. 'Beg pardon all – bit of a situation in another department. Have you got round to the entertainment for Yule Ball yet?'

Over half an hour passed. Albus' focus, however, was still on the Minister. Fudge continually seemed to be checking his timepiece, a light sweat glistening on his forehead that he dabbed at every few minutes – less and less effectively – with a pocket handkerchief. The entire affair was giving Albus a heightening sense of unease.

They had just started in on their last scheduled topic for the evening – the necessary consultation of the Muggle government over the planned import of foreign dragons – when one of the little violet Ministry notes fluttered to a rest next to Albus' seat. He claimed it curiously, noting that Fudge's eyes had snapped to the message as well. The handwriting was vaguely familiar.

Absent yourself to the loo, for a mo. Third door on your right.

'What is it?' Minerva asked, as Albus set the slip of parchment aflame with a flick of his wrist once he'd read the missive.

'Nothing of importance,' he assured her lightly, conscious of both the Minister and Karkaroff's perked ears. 'Merely a reminder that we may as well bring the notices for the underage students back with us, since we are here tonight.'

He waited another few minutes, adding a bit to the discussion and trying not to show his distraction. Then he casually excused himself as the note had suggested, humming softly as he passed through the door.

He dropped the façade as soon as the door clicked behind him and rushed to the indicated room. It was another conference space, though much smaller than the chamber he had left. When he pushed inside, a young woman with close-cropped hair in a vivid shade of pink was waiting for him. A nose ring glinted in her left nostril as she turned from her pacing to face the headmaster across an oblong table.

'Professor Dumbledore, sir,' she said with a nod. 'Sorry for the cryptic.'

'Nymphadora,' he greeted her back in recognition. 'Is something the matter?'

She hesitated, glancing through the slit of a window in the door behind him. Albus observed she was twirling a beaded bracelet round and round in her fingers, apparently out of nerves.

'I'm not certain,' the witch admitted. 'But he said I should get you, if you didn't go on your own…'

Albus furrowed his brow, slightly confused. He knew that Nymphadora Tonks had taken a position in the Auror training programme straight out of Hogwarts… and he suspected that it was she who Alastor Moody had utilised in his errand for the headmaster several months ago. Perhaps Moody was the 'he' she referenced now.

'I am afraid I do not understand,' he told her gently. 'Has Alastor –'

'Oh no, not Mad-Eye,' she interrupted hurriedly, with another anxious glance at the door. 'And, er, I'd appreciate it if you don't spread that about much… the others would go a bit out of joint if they thought he was still helping me – or if they thought I was, er, helping him on the side, if you know what I –'

'Of course,' the headmaster assured her, before this rant could become too side-tracked. 'I shall not say a word, I promise you. But who asked you to deliver a message tonight, Nymphadora?'

She grimaced. 'Odious name,' she muttered. 'It's Tonks actually, headmas–'

'Tonks,' he corrected. He pierced her with his most professorial gaze. 'The message?'

'Oh! Yes,' she said, twisting her beads again. 'It was Kingsley, actually – Shacklebolt – who told me to call you. He's gone off already with Scrimgeour and about twelve of the others. Seemed to think Fudge was acting a bit shifty when he passed on the alarm. Said if you didn't come out right quick, I should tell you….'

'Tell me what?' Albus pressed, just shy of annoyance.

She looked slightly startled. 'He really didn't say?' she asked in astonishment. 'Blimey, but that's not on. He's at the school, after all, and –'

Albus' heart sank. Yet, at the same time, he felt cold fury brewing in his chest…

'What, precisely, was Kingsley's message, Ms Tonks?'

The witch swallowed. 'Sirius Black, headmaster,' she said at last. 'He's been spotted – in the Hogwarts grounds. The Dementors sent word to the Ministry… Fudge has already dispatched an Auror squad to deal with –'

The swell of fury reached its peak. Albus was already moving for the door. He summoned his Patronus in half a second, thinking a desperate message… hoping against hope it would reach Sirius in time. He offered Tonks some hasty thanks over his shoulder as he pulled the door ajar, ignoring the gaping look she was giving the spot where his silver phoenix had appeared and vanished in a flash.

Fudge met him just outside the room the others were sequestered in, a gormless expression on his face.

'Al- Albus,' he stammered nervously. 'Was just coming to find you, in fact. There's – er, there's something I ought to tell –'

'You ought to have told me the moment you were called away, Cornelius,' Albus interrupted in an icy tone.

Fudge coloured, but he grew defensive at once. 'Now, see here, Albus,' he blabbered on. 'This is a Ministry action, after all. You have an interest, of course, given Black's current location… but I mean to say –'

'An interest?' Albus repeated softly. 'I should say so, Cornelius. Hogwarts, after all, is my school… not yours. Her grounds are within my jurisdiction… not yours. The Ministry has no authority to send Dementors or Aurors through her gates, without my explicit permission. Permission I would certainly never grant, when I myself am not in residence at the castle.'

Fudge bristled even further. 'The Ministry has broad authority to enter any dwelling, public or otherwise, where there is a current and immediate threat!' he retorted nastily. 'And I would remind you, Albus, that Hogwarts' relationship with the government is one of such leniency because the Ministry allows it to be so. If you seek to impede our ability to –'

'Impede you?' Albus echoed, raising an eyebrow as he stowed his wand from its second Patronus charm of the evening. 'Hardly, Cornelius. I have no intention of impeding justice. We are, and always have been, on the same side. But I cannot countenance Dementors running amok through my school… and I certainly cannot fathom why you would attempt to keep such vital information from me.'

'I… I was coming to tell you, just now,' Cornelius insisted, deflating a bit. 'I just did not wish to interrupt our negotiations. I was waiting for Scrimgeour to –'

'What is it, Albus?' Minerva demanded, cutting the Minister off as she bustled through the door.

'We must go,' Albus said, turning to face her immediately. 'The Ministry has received intelligence that Sirius Black is within the Hogwarts grounds. Dementors and Aurors are seeking him as we speak.'

She paled, looking as terrified as Albus himself felt. Even through her distress, however, her eyes flashed dangerously at the implications of Fudge's silence.

Albus did not wait to hear the Minister's stammer. He turned at once for the lifts that would take him to the Atrium; Minerva and Cornelius trotting in his wake.

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They were everywhere – closing in from all around.

Sirius tried to keep his grip on the ropes binding the traitor… tried to shove Harry and the others behind him.

Except there was no behind him, with the Dementors on every side. There was no safety to be had. Not even in his own mind…

Icy cold was penetrating – piercing straight through his chest… encasing his heart…

'Sirius!'

Someone slapped his face, and Sirius was momentarily pulled from the sea of misery. The Dementors were closer still, nearly upon them now. All three of the students huddled together around him and the traitor, looking panicked. Harry – who Sirius assumed had been the one to rouse him – was pale as death.

'Patronuses!' he hissed. 'We have to, come on!'

Sirius pulled his wand, hand shaking. He said the incantation… But nothing happened. He had known it would not. He looked up into Harry's stricken face and swallowed hard.

'Harry… I can't,' he admitted in a rasp. 'I haven't… I've not been able to… not in years…'

Harry turned to his student companions instead, unsteady on his feet. 'Quick! Think of something happy! The charm is Expecto Patronum.'

Sirius' mind was spinning. Images; scenes from a lifetime of heartbreak; voices panicking, screaming, dying….

'Nooo…' he moaned, clutching at his head as the world collapsed around him. 'Nooo… please…'

Through the growing fog in his brain, Sirius could hear the children all shouting; trying their hand at the spell…

He knew it would not be enough. Even for Harry, who had done it before. These were not Boggarts, with their paltry imitation of fear. These were not students, cavorting in oversized robes for a laugh…

These were Evil itself.

And there were more than one hundred, growing closer every moment…

His vision was clouding now. Voices were echoing in his skull… images were flicking across his mind…

The Rat, disappearing into the sewers amid a street of corpses…

Harry, bleeding on a mattress from wounds Sirius' knife had left…

Lily, red hair splayed across the floor, dead and cold at the base of Harry's cot…

Harry, lying on the Forest floor and staring up at him with eyes full of hatred…

James, eyes vacant and staring as Sirius pushed them closed with trembling fingers…

Harry, reaching out from Hagrid's arms, orphaned and alone…

Marley, laughing that last night… twirling like a ballerina in the bloodshed as she battled… Blasted off her feet. Gone, where Sirius could not call her back…

'They'll be more, Sirius,' she promised softly. 'They'll be years more…'

But there wasn't.

Harry… wrestling with Peter in the tunnel…

Harry…

A silvery light – formless and weak – was dancing before his fading eyes. Harry's, he thought, though he could not recall when it had come.

Harry.

His responsibility, tonight.

His godson.

His mind cleared, just a fraction. And he could see once more.

Harry had moved in front of him, swaying as he tried to keep the flimsy shield intact. The Dementors were so close, now, that Sirius could hear their rattling breaths as they sucked their sustenance from the air around them.

One of the hooded figures separated itself from its fellows. The Dementor moved forward, toward the shield.

'No…' Harry gasped out. 'No! He's innocent. You can't take him… Expecto Patronum… Expecto Patronum…'

The Dementor raised a skeletal, slimy hand. For a moment, Sirius thought it was going to brush the silvery haze aside.

And then the rotting hand moved upward, and the creature lowered its black cloak.

Sirius, even after a dozen years at their mercy, had never seen beneath a Dementor's hood before. What emerged horrified and fascinated him in equal measure, even through the tumult of his mind. The skin on the Dementor's skull was grey, scabbed and rotted, much as it was on the creature's hands. There was no discernible nose. Indentations showed where eyes might have been; yet the sockets were scaled over and empty. But there was a mouth. A black, fathomless hole from whence the Dementor's death rattle seemed to be issuing.

Harry's Patronus gave one final, feeble flicker… and then the silver mist vanished entirely.

The Dementor glided forward in its absence. Its foul hands stretched out, feeling for its prey. The tips were millimetres from Harry's chest…

'NO!' Sirius gasped.

With a colossal effort, he threw himself forward, shoving Harry hard to the ground beside Ron and Hermione, who had both fallen already. The Dementor paused, sensing the change for a single heartbeat… and then it's ironclad, clammy grip closed around his own neck instead.

His vision was whitening again… the echoes of the past much louder even than the foul creature's putrid breath… Its face lowered slowly toward his, and Sirius knew he was lost…

'EXPECTO PATRONUM!'

Sirius fell with a gasp to his knees in the grass – the death rattle, the strong grip, the voices all vanishing as if Pandora's box had been slammed suddenly shut. His vision cleared at once; warmth rushing back to the night and thawing the worst of the chill in his soul.

And Prongs was there. Huge, and white, and more dazzling in his brightness than Sirius had ever seen him before. His great, antlered head was lowered as he cantered around them, driving the evil creatures back in droves.

One of the two fallen students was moaning, stirring from her collapse…

But Sirius was watching Harry. The boy's face was nearly bloodless; his gait unsteady as he pushed forward, wand outstretched and guiding the Patronus' progress. His spell was his father's, his blazing eyes were his mother's… and yet the furious power than emanated from his very being reminded Sirius only, in that moment, of Albus.

Prongs galloped in wider and wider circles, the blinding light only growing as he charged… until, at long last, the Dementors had fled in earnest – gliding out of sight toward the gates. The stag turned when its job was finished, returning like an obedient pet to its master.

Then Harry swayed ominously on his feet, and the Patronus winked out of sight.

'Harry?' Sirius rasped, still struggling to get his own bearings. His godson half-turned, his wand hand dropping limply to his side. His eyes met Sirius' for just a moment, then started to roll back in his head as his knees gave way…

'Harry!'

The moment seemed to last a lifetime. Sirius could feel the almost painful burn on his palm, where Pettigrew's ropes had been digging into his skin for the past hour as he clutched them in a vicelike grip. He'd managed not to release him: not through the chaos in the tunnel… not through their trek across the grounds… not even through the Hell that had been the Dementors' attack, when he could barely grasp his own senses. But now, Harry was falling, pale as Death and utterly spent… and he was too far away for Sirius to catch. Too far to leap, with the traitor in hand.

The choice, it seemed, had come at last. He could feel it tear straight through his tattered soul.

Sirius let the ropes fall.

He threw himself forward with both arms outstretched as Harry pitched face-first toward the earth. The boy fell into them, completely unconscious.

Even as he caught his godson, Sirius watched his chance at vengeance dissolve out of the corner of his eye. The second his focus left the traitor; the moment his back was turned and his hands had released their prize, Pettigrew transformed.

He growled, clutching Harry to his chest with his right arm and turning to fire off a hex… but he knew already it was far too late. With a flick of his bald tail, the rat scampered through the mess of his former bonds, darting away into the overgrown grass. Sirius felt a gut-wrenching horror as he vanished from view.

Harry had been right. Sirius should have stunned him.

But, in this moment, there were more important things.

'Harry,' Sirius hissed, shaking the limp form roughly. 'Harry – wake up!'

For several minutes, he could not rouse him. He could hear the other two students behind him, coming to on the ground. One part of his mind was conscious that every second he stayed, knelt here on the ground, the possibility of recapturing the traitor grew fainter and fainter… but still, he did not move. An owl hooted overhead.

Then the boy's eyelids began to flutter.

'That's it,' Sirius encouraged. 'Come on now, you're alright…'

His eyes opened, looking about in mild confusion… then Harry popped to his feet so quickly that Sirius nearly exclaimed aloud.

'Ron! Hermione!' he said, stumbling a bit as he made for his friends. 'You okay?'

'Fine,' the girl replied. She was already helping Ron to sit up. 'Harry, how on earth did you manage to –'

But Harry cut across her, whirling wildly about in panic.

'Where is he?' he demanded of Sirius. 'Pettigrew? Where did he –'

'He's gone,' Sirius said heavily. He moved to steady Harry again, still concerned. 'He ran off, just as you collapsed.'

'Wha – NO!' he snarled, pushing away from Sirius in dismay. 'Gone?! He can't be – Sirius, you have to –'

'It's too late, Harry,' Sirius said sadly. He stepped closer again, cupping the boy's pale face with a hand. 'Peter will be long gone by now. I've seen this before – he's done this before… Even if I go for him now, he'll already be out of reach. He cannot return to Hogwarts, now his secret is revealed; now that he has tried and failed to escape with you. He will not dare to stay where we may catch him out. And you – you are my concern right now. You and the others all need help I cannot provide. The Dementors will be back…'

'We have to get back up to the school, mate,' Ron put in, leaning heavily on Hermione as the two of them shuffled up.

'He's right, Harry,' the girl agreed. 'You were brilliant – you really were, getting rid of all of them like that. That was very, very advanced magic. But you look dead on your feet. You might not be able to do it again, if they come back. And Bl – Sirius is right,' she added, glancing shiftily over her shoulder. 'They aren't likely to stay at the gates for long… not if they know Sirius is here.'

'How'd they even get in?' Ron muttered darkly. 'After Dumbledore –'

'He's out of the castle, tonight,' Hermione reminded him. 'I expect they know… or perhaps they can sense it.'

'Or they sensed me,' Sirius put in. 'They've been out for me, after all, all these months. And I hadn't been in the grounds in my human form since –'

'We can't just let him go!' Harry interrupted desperately, ignoring his friends as his eyes pinned Sirius'. 'Pettigrew can't just be gone! Without him – they won't believe you! They won't believe me! And he killed my –'

'I know, Harry,' Sirius said softly. 'Believe me, I know better than anyone.'

'You should have left me,' Harry cried. He turned his face away in frustration, his hands balled into fists. 'You should have gone after him, instead of saving me.'

'No,' Sirius disagreed. 'You, Harry, are the most important thing. You are the true reason I was able to keep going, all those years locked away – all these months on the run…'

And as he said it, Sirius had never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

'The thought of avenging your parents' deaths was my fixation – but not just because they died, Harry. Because you were still in danger. Because he remained close to you. And none of it – nothing at all – matters, if anything should happen to you. I would suffer the Dementors ten times over if it meant you would live, and be happy.'

'What now?' Ron asked, sounding nervous.

'We get you lot back up to the castle,' Sirius answered, clearing his throat a bit and breaking eye contact with Harry. 'Quickly. Before the Dementors return, or alert the Ministry.'

'Dumbledore wouldn't let them take you,' Ron said confidently.

'But Dumbledore's not here, Ron,' Hermione reminded him again. 'And who knows if –'

Before she could finish, there were distant sounds from beyond the far-off gates: a series of loud, sharp cracks… like apparition. A dozen, maybe more. The girl cut herself off, her eyes widening in fright. Sirius knew his own face would match it.

Aurors.

'They – they're here, already?' Hermione whispered, as all their focuses snapped toward the out-of-sight gate. 'It hasn't even been –'

'They'll give you to them!' Harry said, desperate. 'If Albus doesn't get here in time… if they beat him… The Dementor's Kiss – it was in the Prophet months ago. You won't have another chance!'

Sirius felt his blood run cold. Time was up. The run was over.

It would be a new race, now… Would Albus manage to beat the Ministry wizards to their place in the grounds? Or would Fudge or his cohorts arrive first?

He could try and run for it… try to breach the castle and convince Flitwick; or skirt him, somehow, and await Albus…

But he would be blocked at the threshold. If he even made it that far. They would not let him pass. He had no chance of reaching the castle doors before those inside answered the call. He had no hope of sneaking the other way, either; past the gates and into Hogsmeade. Not now… not through two-thirds of the Azkaban guard and Merlin knew how many Ministry reinforcements…

And he could not leave the children in the grass on their own. He could not leave Harry, not knowing…

Perhaps Albus would make it. Perhaps he would win.

As if in answer to his thoughts, a blaze of silvery light barrelled toward them out of the sky. The thing soared once around the grouping, before alighting directly in front of Sirius. It spoke in Albus' deep voice.

'They are coming, Sirius. We will not reach you in time… You must run.'

Harry and Sirius watched it vanish together, identical looks of panic on both their faces. Sirius tried to calm his heart; to resign himself to the end. It was alright. If he could delay the Kiss, at least, Albus might make it back before all was lost…

'Go!' Harry insisted, pushing at his chest desperately. 'Go – Sirius! You have to, they'll –'

'The Ministry will believe you,' Ron insisted, though he looked pale and terrified. 'If we tell them we saw Pettigrew; if Dumbledore backs us up –'

'I do not think it will matter,' Sirius said with a sad smile. 'Perhaps Albus' testimony – and yours – will be enough to get me free, once they lock me up again. Perhaps not. But Fudge will take me as soon as they get here. I doubt he will wait even for Albus. Not without Pettigrew; another body to take my place. They will follow procedure. They'll be a Ministry inquiry. And I will let them take me, Harry, rather than run for it now. I cannot leave you alone –'

'But you are!' Harry hissed, in a whisper that was, somehow, almost a scream. 'You are – if you let them take you away. I know the headmaster will have a way out. He always does. Maybe… we'll wait for him – we can go up to his office, now. He'll help you esca-'

A clatter at the iron; voices – human voices – still far away, perhaps on the path to the village… but loud enough in the windless night that they carried through the darkened park…

'There's no time,' Sirius said gently. Already, he heard the bang of iron on stone as someone blasted open the gate. 'And nowhere to go, now. Harry –'

He pulled the child toward him – to embrace him… but Harry stepped away. A gleam of determination was sparking in his eyes, not unlike the one James so often had.

'Come on,' the child said, darting a terrified look between the hill that hid the gates and the distant castle. He tugged at Sirius' hand, already moving toward the dark, looming trees.

'Harry!' Hermione hissed, half-dragging Ron after them.

'No!' Harry gasped out, putting up a hand to stop her. 'You get Ron and Snape back up to the castle. Stall them – the Ministry – if you can… make up some story.'

A second, unfamiliar silver Patronus streaked past, and Sirius knew it was headed for the castle. To alert Flitwick, possibly.

'Harry, don't –' Sirius began to protest.

'But mate –' Ron started.

'We're not leaving you!' Hermione insisted.

'You'll be okay,' Harry said firmly to his friends, still pulling at Sirius. 'You can't come – you can't keep up. And this… This is the only chance.'

The pressure on his hand increased and, with a strength that shocked from a child so young and so recently injured, Sirius was dragged along at his heels. Neither of the other children looked at all happy as they watched them disappear into the darkness.

'They'll search the forest, Harry,' Sirius tried to warn as the boy pulled him down the embankment. 'The dog disguise won't work now; the Ministry will have sent Aurors, knowing I am here and Albus is gone. I will never make it through the wards in time. They'll find –'

'We aren't going for the forest,' Harry ground out.

He ran harder – faster. The recent brush with Dementors and magical exhaustion had left him spent and panting, and Sirius opened his mouth to force him to stop; but Harry suddenly halted at the edge of the trees, not far from Hagrid's darkened cabin.

'You're a mess,' Sirius said in concern, reaching for his face again…. His cheeks were flushed; green eyes slightly glazed…

But Harry had shoved a hand in the pocket of his robes, fumbling for something.

'I knew I had it in here!' he said in delight. 'Lucky it was so warm today; I hadn't worn these robes since last summer.'

From the pocket, he pulled what looked like a small, crudely-hewn wooden flute. Sirius stared.

'What is it?' he asked in hoarse whisper.

'A whistle,' Harry replied shortly. He put the instrument to his lips and blew one, hard note.

An unearthly cry pierced the night, echoing through the grounds and forest alike. In the distance, Sirius could see figures running up the grassy hill, growing closer and closer to the students and Snape by the lake. Ron Weasley was waving his arms in the air to get their attention; Hermione's arm holding him upright around the waist while the other held her wand.

And Snape's black form was moving too… stirring on his stretcher in the grass…

Whoosh

Sirius jumped back in fright.

Something huge and dark had streaked suddenly down out of the sky, landing with unnatural lightness between himself and Harry.

Harry shivered slightly, as the creature moved to lick at a spot of someone's blood that had stuck to his cheek. And Sirius saw that the animal had skeletal, horse-like features and leathery, bat-shaped wings.

A thestral.

'You can see him?' Harry confirmed, holding very still as the creature licked his face. He patted in the air with a tentative hand, feeling for the thestral's mane.

'You can't?' Sirius asked, confused.

Harry shook his head. 'You have to have seen death, and understood it,' he clarified. 'My mum… I was too small at the time. At least, that's what Hagrid says.'

Sirius opened his mouth to say he hoped they'd always be invisible, for Harry… but shouting from the hillside intercepted the remark. He looked quickly back.

The Ministry wizards were running – they could see the crumpled figures now… were making beeline for them, wands out… And Snape was on his feet… And behind them, from the direction of the gates, floods of black-clad demons were gliding softly into the grounds once again…

Harry heard it too.

'Go,' he said, pushing the thestral's head toward Sirius. 'He's trained – he'll know where to take you if you tell him a place. And he's fast, and quiet, and hard to trace. They won't know –'

'Peter –'

'You said yourself he'll have scarpered straight away,' Harry pointed out. 'He won't be lurking here, on the off-chance I've gone for a bit of a stroll…'

'You're hurt, Harry,' Sirius protested. 'And the Dementors –'

'I'll be fine,' Harry said confidently. 'There are wizards here now too… they're not looking to hurt me. And Snape's awake.'

'Harry…' Sirius hesitated. But Harry shook his head, shooting another terrified look over his shoulder.

'Go,' he repeated. 'I'll talk to Albus… I'll tell him everything. We'll find you again; but you have to go – please! I can't lose you too – not when… not when I've just found you.'

Sirius pulled himself onto the back of the beast. It did not protest its burden, but scuffed its hoofs against the soft ground, as if ready for flight again.

'We will see each other soon, Harry,' he said. He reached down from the thestral to brush the boy's cheek with his hand again. 'I promise.'

'Go!' Harry repeated fearfully. He looked devastated, but he pulled himself out of reach.

Sirius adjusted himself on the thestral.

'You are truly your parents' son, Harry,' he told him with a smile. 'And I can give you no higher praise.'

'I'm your godson,' Harry said quietly, with a small smile of his own. 'Please… stay safe.'

'And you,' Sirius replied with a wink.

In a silent rush of wings, the thestral soared high into the air. And Sirius Black sped away from Hogwarts.

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Review Responses, Chapter 41

Anyeshabaner: Thank you for reviewing! Ah… well, you'll get part of your answer this chapter, and the rest before the end of the book, I expect… but the 'happy family' ending is definitely not where this instalment is headed (or how would I write the next six books?). Believe me, I would love to send all our characters happily into the sunset together, but I decided quite early that I was not going to go there with Sirius this book, no matter how much it pained me. Some events, even in alternate universe, are destined to occur… and Pettigrew has too much a role left to play to allow his story to conclude at this juncture. Hopefully, this will all make sense at the start of Part III. And, for me, the evolution of Sirius' character that I had hoped to bring about in this story manifests in Chapter 42. I won't explain it now, in case you are reading this before reading the chapter above… but this marks a serious development for his character, and one I think will change how he acts moving forward. I hope readers will enjoy that story arc.

I hope you like Chapter 42!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thanks for reviewing! Yes, werewolf drama… I hope you enjoy where it takes us next.

AlsoKnownAsMatt: Thanks for your review! You make some interesting points. In particular – I'm glad you raised the question of stunning Pettigrew, because I think it is incredibly true. I actually planned to address it last chapter, but I moved that portion of thought here instead. There is an explanation for it – though, admittedly, it is still a poor decision on all their parts. Harry's morality, of course, is a central tenant in JKR's version and probably will be for much of my series, though I agree it comes with a serious price. One of the other things about his personality – the secrecy and cards-close-to-the-chest quality he seems to be learning from the headmaster – has similar pitfalls. Though Albus and Harry's reasoning was undoubtedly sound, in their view, keeping Pettigrew's existence secret from Ron and Hermione arguably leads, in my story, to this series of unfortunate events in the first place. It's interesting to watch the chips fall into place… at least, it is as a writer.

Hope you enjoy the continuation!

Mwinter1: Thanks for reviewing! Glad you are enjoying it and hope you like the continuation.

Me (Guest Reviewer): Thank you for reviewing both Chapter 40 and Chapter 41! I think you're right… at least in the disciplinary sense, it's unlikely Harry will be chastised for leaving Hagrid's – because they did need to get back to the school, somehow. Hagrid… well, you'll see what happens with that one. Yay! Glad you picked up on the noted difference between the Crucio of last summer and the casting by Pettigrew here… it was, as you seem to have surmised, absolutely meant to indicate that it was not Peter who kidnapped Harry in Edinburgh. That mystery remains unsolved.

Oh man… Pettigrew. Sirius. Ah, I know everyone is going to be upset with me… but I promise, there is a longer story to be told with this – and unfortunately this just wasn't quite the right moment to end Wormtail's existence. His story, however, and Sirius', will not be the same as canon throughout… I have an arc in mind for this. They are in the shack still, at this point. So there are still obstacles to come.

Hope you enjoy the next instalment!

Estel Ashlee Snape: Thanks for reviewing! Ah – love Sirius… and I promise we'll get loads more from him in the next book as well, though I cannot promise his fate in this one. Snape is definitely going to be livid when he wakes; I'm sure Harry is accurate in predicting his displeasure here. I too love the scene in the film where Snape puts himself between the kids ad the wolf. I almost woke him up just for that, but I went another route with Remus in the end so it didn't quite fit. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!