Chapter 8: Odds, Ends and House-Elves

Being careful to keep every inch of himself on the other side of the threshold, Severus Snape flicked his wand, and the unconscious form of Peter Pettigrew slid out of the kitchen and flipped over.

Snape's face paled. "Peter Pettigrew?" He knelt to take a closer look, and said, "Peter Pettigrew? Peter Pettigrew? Pettigrew?!" He shook his head, looked at Harry and Hermione, and saw something he did know how to handle. "And two first-years too stupid and willful to know they can't take on a full wizard. You're both in for a week of detentions."

A flick of Snape's wand, and Hermione could move again. She slid immediately off Harry. "Careful. He's a rat animagus. He'll try to escape."

Snape startled but said, "Thank you for the input, Granger. I'll be sure to ask you if I need any more advice on keeping captives." But he waved his wand again, muttered "statare infinito," then "Incarcerous" and Pettigrew was wrapped like a mummy in fine cords.

Turning back into himself, Harry said, "Detention?"

The lead house-elf said, "Bring back the big kitty."

Snape said, "Troop-Chief, I'll be taking these three now. But be sure, you'll have a chance to play with the big kitty later. I'll send along a ball of yarn."

Harry said, "What? I-"

"If they've done you a favor, you ought to repay it. Come."

They followed the potions master, Pettigrew floating ahead of them, Snape patting the animagus's head and saying, "Mysteries like these are what the Veritaserum in my office is for."

#

#

Minister of Magic Fudge, who Harry had read about in the papers, turned out to be a dumpy, balding man who looked nervous when he spoke to Dumbledore and tried to hide it by talking out his nose.

Dumbledore, Snape, Pratchett, Fudge and a few Ministry officials went into a room with Pettigrew for the interrogation.

Harry and Hermione were allowed to sit on a bench outside. While Malfoy argued with McGonagall about his right to know what was going on, Ron snuck over and sat between them, and no one made him leave.

They picked up tidbits as tidbits filtered out.

Under Veritaserum, Pettigrew had admitted to being the Potter's Secret Keeper, and telling Voldemort where the Potters were.

Snape had found Harry and Hermione because he'd run across Professor Trewalney in a corridor. Her voice had turned deep and dreadful and she'd said to him, 'To find the rat, follow the cat, haha that rhymes,' and though Snape hadn't known what she'd meant by rat, he'd followed the screeching of cats.

Harry said, "Do you think Snape was serious about the detentions? We practically saved the day."

Hermione said, "Probably, but it doesn't really matter. I read the school rules in Filch's office and detentions don't go on your academic record."

Nevermind detention, Hermione worrying about her academic record sounded promising. "So you're not thinking of leaving anymore?"

"No, I've decided. I'm going home."

"What? Why? We're safe now. I bet the troll was Pettigrew's fault too."

"Do you think? I'm not sure how it helps him."

"He's crazy."

"Maybe? But the whispering only you could hear? Mrs. Norris? I guess that could all be Pettigrew. But we have to keep our guards up."

"I have to," said Harry.

Hermione stared at him, then said, "Oh gosh, you're talking about 'leaving' leaving. I was talking about Christmas vacation. We're supposed to sign the form to stay or go soon. I'm leaving, but for Christmas break. I'm coming back after."

He slumped, all the nerves gone out of him. "Are you still thinking at all about 'leaving' leaving?"

"No. When I said I'd accept a guilt trip from my best friend, that's what I meant."

"That's what you meant? I don't think that really means what you meant it to mean. Being worried you might go is kind of why I wanted to resolve the Sirius-Pettigrew situation so fast."

They sighed together, and Ron said, "I don't know why you two bother lowering your voices, I can't understand it anyway. What on earth is a 'serious petty grew situation'?"

Harry said, "Are you serious?"

"See, I don't understand what you mean when you say that word. But that's just an example. What I'm saying is that you two need to communicate better."

Hermione nodded. "You're right. Sorry Harry. I should've made sure you knew wha-"

"I mean with me," said Ron. "I'm in A-chiz too, right?"

"A-chiz?" said Harry.

"Yeah. Like, the top chiz. Chiz is... Like club or clique or something. Cool new word?"

Hermione said, "Are you serious?"

"I keep telling you I don't know what that is," said Ron. "Sometimes it's a person, sometimes it's an adjective, sometimes it might be a dog, sometimes it means something is cool or bad maybe, maybe dangerous, like 'Seriously Black' except you say it without the ly and I'm really confused."

"I think he's serious," said Harry.

"Am I?" said Ron. The words should've been a joke, but Ron's face screamed that it was an existential question.

Hermione said, "Ron, who did everyone always say betrayed Harry's parents to You-Know-Who?"

"Sirius Black," said Ron.

"Now say that name ten times fast, and pay attention to the sound."

"Sirius Black, Sirius Black, Sirius Black Sirius Black Sirius by Merlin's beard is that what we've been talking about?"

Hermione said, "Ron, what do you think has been going on the past few weeks?"

"Well-"

"Ron." Shelby Blank poked her head around the corner. "Come on buster. Time for that detention."

Ron said, "Today?"

Shelby said, "The old 'my pet rat turned out to be the evil wizard partially responsible for my best friend's parents' death?' Sorry kid, that won't work on me."

"What?"

"Come on. Better to get your mind off it."

Casting glances back at them, Ron left with Shelby, and Harry began to laugh.

Hermione said, "He was there when we talked to Dumbledore, right? I'm not making that up."

"He was there. I think he's learning dry humor from Jordan Lee."

"Lee Jordan."

"That's the one." There were too many Gryffindors to keep straight.

Fudge came out of the interrogation room looking shaken, having an argument with Dumbledore in the doorway, Harry and Hermione sitting very still, hoping not to be noticed, listening attentively.

Dumbledore pressed Fudge to send the dementors back to Azkaban, get word to the papers, declare Sirius's conviction overturned, and call for the man to turn himself in.

Fudge said that Sirius was guilty of jailbreak at the very least, and an inquisition would have to decide as to the other charges.

Dumbledore brought out the newspaper Sirius had seen, pointed out Pettigrew's rat form, and claimed Sirius had only broken out of jail because he'd realized students were threatened by a Death Eater, and considering how much money the Ministry might have to pay to Sirius if it turned out he'd been wrongfully convicted they'd do well to get on the man's good side.

That made an impression, and Fudge said he'd arrange for a new trial as soon as Black could be brought in.

They continued down the hall, the last words Harry hearing being about dementors.

The door had been left open, so Harry poked his head in. Pettigrew was trussed up and unconscious again, Snape and a black man who'd come with Fudge sitting casually with their wands pointed at Pettigrew.

"No, Potter," said Snape.

"I was just wondering if Hermione and I should leave. It doesn't seem like anyone has any more questions for us."

The black man said, "So you're Harry Potter. You look like your dad."

Hermione poked her head in the doorway. "If Sirius Black is innocent, does that mean he has custody of Harry now? Being his godfather and all."

Snape grimaced and the black man said, "Pettigrew has said what he's said, but a court will have to decide on Sirius Black's innocence. And Black will have to come to court for that."

Harry was taken with the idea of not living with the Dursleys, but he didn't want to discuss it with Snape and a man whose name he didn't know, so he said again, "Should Hermione and I leave now?"

"In a moment," said Dumbledore, behind him. "First we need to discuss the order of events."

#

#

The next morning, The Daily Prophet had Dumbledore's preferred 'order of events.'

Almost nothing in it was directly about Harry or Hermione. Peter Pettigrew had been caught in the staff kitchen by Professor Severus Snape and a troop of house-elves. Yes, that Peter Pettigrew, the friend of James Potter. He'd admitted under Veritaserum to being the Potter's real Secret Keeper and having faked his own death, and Sirius Black would get a re-trial so soon as someone could find him to tell him he'd get a re-trial.

There was an article examining Sirius's likely being innocent and the legal implications of such, an article catching you up on all the history in case you'd forgotten or didn't know, an article questioning how a presumably innocent man had been sent to Azkaban in the first place, an article arguing Sirius wasn't really innocent since the courts wouldn't make such a horrible mistake, and two articles questioning why dementors had ever been sent to Hogwarts.

"They're certainly quick writers," said Hermione.

The Ministry was pointing out that Sirius was, at the very least, guilty of attempted murder (even if of a man he'd known to be a Death Eater,) prison breaking, sneaking illegally into Hogwarts, destruction of property in Hogwarts, and the stealing of Goody Smithmaker's wand.

There was brief mention of there being a 'flurry of furious felines' at about the time of the capture, but that was assumed to be either random or something a Professor had done. Dumbledore had talked with the few Gryffindor's who'd seen Harry going leonine and calling cats.

A freckled Hufflepuff girl who looked fourth or fifth year sat down next Harry. "Sally Su, of The Hogwarts Herald."

Hermione said, "That's Ron's seat. He'll be back in a minute."

"I'll only take a minute. You're going to be written about anyway, so you might as well have some say in what's written."

Hermione said, "It'd show up in The Daily Prophet the next day, wouldn't it? Everything they write about Hogwarts comes from the school paper."

"Not everything," said Sally, tapping The Daily Prophet. "Almost nothing in today's edition. All from Dumbledore or Ministry officials, getting their narratives out."

Hermione said, "It's not very complimentary to the Ministry."

Sally shrugged. "Hardly half of the people in the Ministry want it to be. Now, Aitches. Why do you two get called that?"

Harry said, "Do you want to?"

Hermione said, "Sooner or later, it'll happen. So why don't we do it?"

Harry said, "Yeah. Aitches is obvious. Saying our names with an and in the middle is too many syllables. And you've gotta decide which name goes first. Aitches is faster."

"And you're always together?"

Aitches nodded, and Sally said, "Why are you always together?"

"We're friends."

"You seem very close.

"We're Gryffindors, we're muggle-raised, and we haunt the practice room. That's a lot in common."

Sally Su said, "You both haunt the practice room, but I believe Hermione has managed the harder spells."

"He's better at dagarary."

"I am way better at dagarary. Broomstick riding too. Plus, I can turn into a lion, and she can't. Lame. And she's older. Way old. I heard her and Dumbledore reminiscing about Grindelwald together. She might be the oldest first-year, you should look it up."

Hermione said, "I did look it up. I'm the sixth oldest first-year. And Harry, you are literally the youngest. Your birth date is the cut-off date. If you'd been born a day later, you wouldn't be here till next year, so my thanks to your mum for not dallying in labor."

Harry said, "See, she knows everything and she's always right. It's annoying."

Sally Su's eyes darted left and right as they talked. "You were both attacked by a troll?"

"When you phrase it like that it sounds like two different trolls. One troll, same time. It was scary. Big, smelly. What you'd expect of a troll. Then Dumbledore came."

"And you turned into a lion?"

Harry nodded. The interview strolled on, going through questions they were used to answering, the breakfast table emptying, Harry wondering why Ron wasn't back yet.

Sally said, "And the recent events, with Pettigrew and Black."

"I was rooting for them to catch Black, and now I'm hoping to meet him soon, so it's been interesting."

"I've heard rumors you were more involved. Something about summoning cats."

Harry nodded. "I saw some of the cats going nuts. That was cool."

"But you don't have any idea how that happened?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Probably Professor Kettleburn?" said Hermione. "Suddenly there were a lot of Professors coming and going from Gryffindor tower, so I don't know who did what."

"Yes, and while that was happening, Hermione, you were... riding Harry through Hogwarts?"

Hermione said, "If you phrase it that way we're never giving you an interview again. Right Harry?"

"...Sure," said Harry, not getting it but going along.

Hermione said, "Don't mention that part of it at all. At all. Don't even allude. We were wandering through the corridors, looking for Pettigrew, because we'd heard that's what Dumbledore was doing and that was really confusing, and we found him. Luckily, he'd already been found by some house-elves, and Professor Snape came a moment later. So now we have detentions, because looking for Pettigrew was stupid."

"And you don't have any insight into how or why Peter Pettigrew was hiding in Hogwarts, or where he's been all year?"

"Those sound like questions for Dumbledore," said Hermione.

Ron finally came back from the restroom.

"Where were you?" said Harry. "It's been over half an hour."

"I got lost coming back."

"Those corridors don't move, Ron."

"They did today."

Harry shrugged and stood. "Sorry Sally, it's time for club sign-ups."

"One last question. Harry." She smiled. "How does it feel to have defeated perhaps the greatest Dark Lord who's ever lived?"

"I don't know. Everyone says I defeated Voldemort, but a one-year-old can't even defeat a stray cat. I read what's known, and I think it's clear what happened. My dad died at the bottom of the stairs. Tired Voldemort out, maybe. Then my mum fought Voldemort in the nursery, and they killed each other. I got the scar in the crossfire. So if you wanna know how it feels to beat maybe the greatest Dark Wizard ever in single combat, you'll have to find a way to ask my mum. And you can quote me on that."

#

#

A cavernous room where usually there was smaller rooms and hallways-either it was an expanded room or the castle had reorganized itself for Club Saturday. Either way, the room was full of older students at booths, trying to get you to join this club or that.

Club activities had been going on since the second week, but new-member recruitment didn't happen almost till Christmas break. That way the first-years had time to develop some idea of what interested them. After a few meetings they had a couple weeks off to think over whether their choices had been mistakes or not.

The Quidditch Club seemed to be the most popular, though the large booth was festooned with signs reminding first-years that the House Teams had already been selected.

Enchantments club. Charms. Divination, Art, Potions, Journalism-Sally Su was slipping into the booth-History, Chess, Dueling.

"Dueling?" said Harry.

"Boring sport," said Ron. "They have to restrict the spells that are used so no one gets hurt. It's mostly counters, so all you see is one spell, then two seconds of wand twiddling before someone falls over."

Harry's eyes caught on a small, ratty booth with four chanting members.

Reparation for the Goblin situation

Freedom for the whole of house-elf nation

Stop all non-human vilification

Wands for all, plus education

"Setomb" said Hermione, reading what was written on their booth. "Students for the Equal Treatment of Magical Beings."

Ron said, "Nutters, the lot of them. Goblins shouldn't have wands. And house-elves aren't slaves, they're house-elves."

Hermione ran over, grabbed a pamphlet, and ran back.

Harry said, "Two of them are waving signs." He felt embarrassed just being within earshot.

"I'm only reading it."

They moved on. The Muggle club. The Purebloods club. The Dagarary club, which was the biggest booth after Quidditch club and had the longest line of first years, Shelby presiding over it.

"Hermione, want to join it with me?" He hadn't seen a legilimency, occlumency, or charismancy club, and he'd been looking.

Hermione said, "I'm going to join Enchantments."

"They said to join two clubs."

"I have to think about the second one longer. I need to read about Setomb, and talk to some house-elves, and maybe goblins if I can."

"Really?"

"Maybe. If they wouldn't shout so much. Maybe not. Join Enchantments with me."

"I have the thing with Hagrid, so I'm only joining dagarary. Ron, join it with me."

"No," said Ron. "I don't need to join an academic club. I'm already in the 'always in the practice room' club with you two."

"You're not 'always in the practice room,'" said Hermione.

"Not compared to you two, no."

Hermione said, "I spend plenty of time at the library."

"It's the same thing, you horrible nerds. I'm not joining an academic club. I'm joining the Quidditch Club, where we fly like dragons through the sky, and then a nice, light-hearted club where we just relax and have fun, like real kids."

"What club?"

Ron crossed his arms. "I'm joining the Chess club."

Harry met Hermione's eyes and smiled. She giggled. Harry chortled. Real laughter rose up from both, and Harry's eyes teared up.

"What? What? Stop laughing. Why are you laughing?"

Hermione gathered herself enough to say, "Ron Weasley, whether you know it or not, you are the biggest nerd in Gryffindor."

#

#

The dungeon was chill and uncomfortably moist, which didn't bother Harry so much as the Dungeon's containing Snape.

"Dunderheads. Tell me why you're here," said Snape.

"We tried to catch Peter Pettigrew," said Harry.

"And why's that bad?" said Snape.

Hermione said, "Because he's a full wizard and we almost got ourselves killed."

"That's the answer," said Snape. "Why were you nearly killed? From hearing the descriptions of it, yours and his, you had every advantage."

"I was too slow," whispered Hermione.

"Yes. Petrificus Totalus was the best choice among the spells you know, but you're slow. So I'm told. We don't discourage that. We like young students going slowly, getting the movements just right, all the fundamentals in order. The only exercise first-years do to develop speed at spell casting is a spot of dagarary in Defense class. Harry, I'm told, is fast. Do you know the spell?"

"Not yet," said Harry, though he'd looked Petrificus Totalus up, and it seemed within his reach.

"Suppose you did know it. You're fast. You might have managed to freeze him. A moment later, he would've broken the spell. Oh, have no doubt that even wandlessly, a full wizard can break a first-year's spell. If Hermione's spell had struck with the force of your Nemean roar behind it, it might have held, but we've already discussed that. So what did you really need to capture him properly?"

"Practice," said Harry, knowing even as he said it that Snape would not be pleased.

Snape said, "Exactly. Practice. Effort, over time. Years of effort over time. First-years do not hunt Dark Wizards. Neither do second-years. Or third-years. Or fourth-years. Maybe, maybe, just maybe, in situations of great urgency, national emergencies, fifth-years. Maybe. You understand?"

"Yes," they both said.

"Good. Welcome to detention. You won't enjoy it. Unlike certain others, I am of the belief that detention should make you feel detained. There will be no fun or conversation. You will copy pages from this book." Snape dropped a thick, black leather bound tome in front of them. "I will check whether you've done it properly, and if you haven't, you'll be detained longer."

Snape returned to his own desk and opened his own book. "Get cracking."

It was a dictionary of potion ingredients, listed alphabetically. Harry winced and got to writing. Aarvak's Hoof. Abelia Rex. Ab ovo. Ackee. Aconite. Acromion. Definition after definition. While Harry was still two terms from the end of the first page, Hermione finished it and turned the page.

Without looking up from his book, Snape said, "Go back. Potter hasn't finished the page."

Harry turned back to the first page. Adam's Needle, also called Veniletsu, a type of yucca useful for-

"Miss Granger. You're not writing."

"I already finished the page."

"Then re-copy the definitions until Potter catches up." Still reading his book.

In a minute, Harry turned the page and they started on the next one.

"You're going slower, Granger."

"I don't want to get ahead of Harry."

"You can't wait for him."

Harry sped his writing up.

"Keep it neat, Potter, or you'll get another detention in which you can copy it all again."

When Snape had said they'd be copying, Harry had been relieved it wasn't something worse. Clearly, he'd underestimated Snape's ability to add harassment to boredom.

"Professor, do you have another copy of this dictionary?"

"Three," said Snape, gesturing to the bookcase behind him, eyes still on his own book. "And no. You can't use any of them. Write faster Granger, I know you can."

Harry said, "You dislike everyone in Gryffindor, but why do you dislike me more than the anyone else?"

"Let's see. You're cocky. A show-off, in a calculatedly understated way." Snape scratched his chin. "That isn't much. Considered objectively, you're a good student. You pay attention in class, you do your homework, you study before tests, and you do a decent job at your potions even when I separate you from Miss Granger. You're not disruptive. You don't bully other students. There isn't any particular reason why I dislike you more. I just do. Accept it, like bad weather."

It shouldn't have mattered. He was used to being disliked for no real reason. It was what his Aunt and Uncle had always done. But he hadn't felt that way since coming to Hogwarts. His eyes watered.

"Are you crying, Potter?"

He blinked his eyes. "I shouldn't be. This is stupid. I'm not even that upset." He wiped salt-water off his cheek. He hadn't cried in years, so what was this? Did he literally have dust in his eyes? "This is more annoying than that was upsetting."

Snape returned to his book.

Harry and Hermione copied lines, and the minutes passed to the sound of quills scratching and the clock ticking.

Flipping a page, Snape said, "Potter, when a Professor tells you something, what's the most important question to ask yourself about it?"

Harry said, "Whether it'll be on the test."

Did the corner of Snape's mouth quirk for just an instant? "Always a question worth asking, but not what I'm looking for. Miss Granger, what do you think?"

"How it relates to other subject matters?" said Hermione.

"Not a bad question either, but not the most important. No, the most important question to ask yourself is, 'Is that true?' Or maybe, 'How much of that is true.' Due to a great deal of work by a great many people, the answer to that question in relation to class material will almost always be 'It's all or nearly all true.' But other matters... Potter, how much of what I've told you today do you think is true?"

"Ummm..."

"I, your Professor, told you that when a Professor tells you something, the most important question to ask yourself is whether what the Professor told you is true. So, do you think that's true? How much of it?"

"I, well..." What was this? "If what you're told isn't true, nothing else about it matters."

"Really Potter, only a statement's truth is meaningful? One man says the earth is shaped like a plate. Another says higglegriddle fluff cures lampanus. Both statements are false. Are they equivalent?"

"The one about the earth is more important."

"Unless you have lampanus," said Snape.

After copying three more definitions, Harry saw an out. "If the most important question is whether a statement is true, then it's true that being true is the most important thing, and if that's false, it's not as important that it's false, so it's safer to assume it's true."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "An argument from self-reference leading to a wager. Interesting. But if the most important thing about a statement isn't whether it's true, the most important thing must be something else. For example, the most important question might be what quality of the statement is most important. If that's not truth, you're getting the most important aspect wrong. But interesting. If you like self-reference, try the purest form of the problem. 'This statement is false'"

"We need Ron for this," whispered Harry to Hermione. This was right up Ron's alley. Other than talking about Quidditch, this WAS Ron's alley.

"No you do not need Mr. Weasley the youngest," said Snape. "Think about it. You're at the perfect age for navel gazing."

Harry thought about it, and his head hurt.

Hermione said, "This statement is false. We accept that that's true. That's one step. The second step, we remember that the statement is that the statement is false, which falsifies the first conclusion. The third step, we remember that the statement says it's false, which makes it true. The fourth step, we realize being true makes the statement false. And it just continues. So if you think about it an odd number of steps, it's true, but if you think about it an even number of times, it's false."

Snape said, "So veracity depends on how much you think about something? You're told the world is plate-shaped, and you say, 'wait a minute, in order to know whether that's true I have to figure out whether the number of logical steps needed to unpack that statement is divisible by two or not?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"It can certainly be argued that I just compared apples to Hippogriffs-logically speaking, does what might go for the formal logic of a self-referential statement go for anything else? At the very least, your answer was interesting. Now consider the statement, 'This statement is true.'"

Harry said, "If it's true, it's true, and if it's false, it's false, so I don't see any problem."

"Hmm," said Snape. "The statement is obviously complicated with 'false', but it at least seems simple if you replace 'false' with 'true.' Does that suggest anything about the nature of truth and falsehood, or of logic, or is it just an artifact of how the question is phrased, or does Harry just need to think harder?"

Neither had a reply, and Snape's smile got nowhere near to his eyes. "We're out of time. No detention on Sunday, but when you come on Monday I expect you to have an answer." He tossed Harry a ball of yarn. "And Potter, be sure you visit those house-elves tomorrow. And ask yourself how much of what I've said is true."

#

#

"That sounds like the best detention ever," said Ron.

"Okay."

"Can I come on Monday?"

"I'll ask."

#

#

Sunday mornings were lazy, with most of the students wandering into the common room at ten or eleven and partaking of a light brunch. Harry and Hermione read the Sunday paper over coffee and flaky cherry turnovers with chocolate drizzle. The Daily Prophet had it that Peter Pettigrew was a rat animagus who'd hid out with the Weasleys. Molly Weasley was adding one thousand and twelve counts of voyeurism to the charges against him. 'Saw me in my knickers.' The laughter that brought to the common room was suppressed by the nervous mumbling over the idea that a Death Eater had spent years pretending to be a family pet and had slept nightly in the Gryffindor dorms. Half of them had held Scabbers.

The Weasley brothers were bombarded with questions. Ron said he'd only just found out from Shelby, and he couldn't find Scabbers.

"Ron, Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew."

"Yeah, I know, that's why I can't find Scabbers. Could you help me look for him?"

Katie Bell asked Ron if he was alright.

Ron rubbed his temples. "My head hurts, and I feel stupid."

"Maybe you should go back to sleep," said Harry.

"I've slept a lot the past two days. I keep napping. I've been cooped up inside too much. I'll go outside and get some fresh air." He started for the exit.

Hermione said, "Ron, you're in your pajamas and it's nothing but slush outside."

"Oh." He looked at himself. "And I forgot something else too. I'll change." He trudged up the staircase to the first-year boys' room.

Hermione yelled, "Should we go with you?"

Without looking back, Ron shook his head. "I wanna be alone." He shut the door behind himself.

"Poor guy," said George. "He's in shock. Never knew he cared about the rat that much."

Hermione said, "Does Hogwarts have anything like a school counselor?"

Harry said, "I never liked school counselors. And I'd be pretty dazed if I found out Phil had been an evil wizard the whole time. Give him space."

Hermione said, "If he's not better tomorrow we're taking him to see Madam Pomfrey."

"We'll ask him to see Madam Pomfrey." Wanting to change the subject before it turned into an argument, Harry held up The Hogwarts Herald. It already had their interview, edited for length and clarity. "Have you read this yet?"

"Yeah. I bet a lot of it will be in The Daily Prophet soon." Hermione said.

"We knew that when we agreed to the interview. Anything about finding Sirius?"

Hermione repeated it rotely. "Due to the demonstrated danger to students, the dementors have been recalled, but despite recent events, students are to regard Sirius Black as dangerous until told otherwise. If you see him, contact a teacher and do not approach." She shrugged. "And I'm sure that goes double for you."

Ron came down appropriately outfitted for the chill and the slush, and left out the portrait hole, which, in the Fat Lady's absence, was being manned by the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

Around the time Neville went around asking if anyone had seen his toad, Harry reminded Hermione that he had to go play string with the house-elves in the staff kitchen.

Hermione said, "I've been wanting to talk to house-elves anyway."

On the way to the staff kitchen they passed several posters asking Sirius Black to please report to the Headmaster's office, and Harry turned into a lion as Hermione knocked on the door.

The door opened a crack and a house-elf holding a meat cleaver poked its head out. Its shout of "Big Kitty!" was nearly drowned out by the cacophonous clattering of pots and pans escaping from the kitchen.

The house-elf's head withdrew, the door shut and the clattering cut off like a switch had been flipped.

The door opened all the way, revealing a crowd of house-elves. Their clothing was a riot of non-coordinated colors, several with underwear on their heads. They sat before pots and pans turned upside down on the floor, spoons and tenderizers in hand but held loosely, silent as they took in Harry and Hermione.

To Harry, the bigger question than why they'd been banging on pots and pans was how they'd heard Hermione's knock and why he hadn't heard them when the door was closed.

Shouts of "Big Kitty," and he was dragged in, house-elves jumping on his back, petting him, hanging off his neck like he was a jungle gym. Fearful of being crushed, Phil ran inside Harry's ear.

A bang, and the house-elves' movement stopped.

"Off," said one wearing a neon green polo belted at the waist by a strip of red lace, and they slid off Harry, quiet as spiders.

The house-elf said, "If an animal is really a wizard or witch, we can tell. Like seeing a color. As I look at you, you are truly a big kitty. And yet the other day I saw you become a young wizard, and you were truly a young wizard. Do it again."

Harry turned into himself, and other house-elves gasped.

"I am Mistmack, Troop-Chief of the Hogwarts Staff Kitchen House-Elves. And you are Harry Potter, The-Infant-Who-By-Trying-To-Kill-The-Regressor-Regressed-Himself. Not an infant any longer." He pointed to Hermione, who stood outside the door, afraid to enter uninvited. "Enter, companion of the The-Infant-Who-By-Trying-To-Kill-The-Regressor-Regressed-Himself, and close the door behind. We will not be overheard."

Hermione sat on a counter, which, being sized for house-elves to work at, was at the height of a low bench. "By Regressor, you mean Voldemort?"

Mistmack hissed. "Not that name. It is what it is, not what it styles itself. But yes. By that name you know it. The Regressor. Infant-Who-By-Trying-To-Kill-The-Regressor-Regressed-Himself, a spider pokes its head out your ear, so you know, do you not?" Mistmack pointed its long index finger at counter. "See!"

A line of spiders went across it like marching ants, coming out of a tiny whole in one wall, disappearing through a tiny whole in the other. "Spiders flee and two house-elves are missing, one from the Troop In the Kitchen Beneath the Great Hall, one from the Troop in the Owlery. It's as long ago. The Regressor is here. In this very school. We feel it in our skin and bones. The Consolidator stalks it, aiming to end it finally and entirely."

Harry did not want to say, 'Regressor,' but didn't want to be shushed by Mistmack. "You-Know-Who is in this school?"

"Who?"

"You-Know-Who."

"I don't. Who?"

"The Regressor. The one we call Voldemort. He's in this school?"

"Yes."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. This one wasn't wearing underwear on his head, but it was hard to take him seriously.

Hermione said, "If that's true, we're not the ones you ought to tell."

"We have spoken to the Consolidator."

"The Consolidator?"

"Albus, you call it."

"Dumbledore?"

Mistmack nodded. "It has many names. It plays with the Regressor a game of cat and rat. The cat cannot refuse a game where its prey walks into its very lair, and yet there is danger. The rat would not take such risks if it did not believe by doing so it could become the monster it once was. And speaking of rats. I saw one in this kitchen two days past. It was a surpassingly strange rat, but still a rat, not a wizard. Then it became a wizard before my very eyes. A wizard, I now hear, who was servant to the Regressor. And there has been in this castle a dog surpassingly strange, but still, it seemed a good doggy. We played with it, and let it out when it whined at the door. Now I fear to discover what it may be."

"It's Sirius Black," said Harry. "He's a wizard. We thought he was a servant to the, uh, Regressor, but now we're almost sure he wasn't really. If you see him again, tell him to talk to Dumbledore."

"So it was a good doggy? Good." Mistmack turned to the other house-elves, and let out a stream of sharp, high-pitched chirps, clacks and whistles that reminded Harry of the time he'd been to the aviary at Aunt Marge's retirement home. The other house-elves responded in kind, and sonic pandemonium continued till Mistmack quieted them with a raised hand and said, "We feared we had assisted a servant of Regressor. It's relief to find we did not. And we liked the doggy. But are there more like you, who can become another thing entirely? Or like the wizards Pettigrew and Black, who as animals seemed to be but strange animals?"

"It should just be me and them."

Hermione said, "We only think Black is not a servant of You-Know-Who. We're-"

"Who?" said Mistmack.

"We think he's not a servant of the Regressor. He probably hates the Regressor a lot. But we're not totally sure. So be careful, if you see him."

Harry said, "Do you know where he is? Sirius Black. The black dog."

Mistmack nodded. "He is in the Out."

"The Out?" said Harry.

Mistmack drew a hand through the air. "We let him through a door into the space which is not the castle and not a house. As you see it through a window."

"Outside? The place with trees in it?"

Mistmack nodded.

"Anything more specific? It's a little large."

"Bigger than the Great Hall?" said Mistmack.

"Bigger than the library," said Hermione.

Mistmack blinked and his ears rose. "I think you are pulling at my leg."

"Maybe, but can we go back to the part where Voldemort is in the school, spiders are fleeing and two house-elves have gone missing? Because that seemed important."

Mistmack let Hermione's choice of name slide and expanded on what he'd said, but didn't seem to have a lot to add. "The missing ones might be dead, or used for Dark Blood magic. Many evil wizards Abigail! Muncklymouse. Bababababababa!"

A different door swung closed behind a five or six-year-old girl having who'd just come through it. She stood in the kitchen, hands on her hips, and Mistmack swept her into a hug despite her being the larger. She was placed at the counter, a pile of cookies and a glass of milk appeared, and the house-elves surrounded her, laughing and shouting.

Harry said, "We've been forgotten."

Hermione said, "Must be one of the Professor's kids. Their apartments should be through that door."

Harry was tempted to explore, but he still had six detention scheduled and didn't want more. Instead, he tapped Mistmack on the shoulder and said, "We'll be going now."

"Hi," said the little girl, sticking out her hand. "I'm Abigail."

"I'm Harry Potter."

"Really?"

They were stuck in the kitchen for a few minutes more, during which time Harry decided he was bad with children, then made their excuses and left.

Harry said, "Let's go look at The Out."

Hermione said, "It's hard to take them seriously, but..."

"I know." He was afraid too.

"Security has relaxed a lot, but you're still not supposed to go outside without an escort. And you're thinking that Sirius has already approached you outside once. Even if he's totally innocent of everything, he's been in Azkaban for ten years, and that can't be good for anyone's sanity."

"If we happen to see Sirius, I'll use the necklace to call for Dumbledore, and we won't approach. If he tries to approach us, I'll turn into a lion, you'll get on my back, and we'll run more quickly than he can chase. And we'll stick close to the castle, I promise."

The sun was turning the slush to water, but the air was brisk and they weren't dressed for it, so they walked quickly, keeping to the cleared gravel paths. They paused at the lake for a moment to skip a few stones across it, (the thin spars of ice from the cold snap had melted), went around the greenhouses, kept very carefully on the path when they passed through the dangerous vegetables patch, and found Hagrid just as they'd found him a few days before: stooped low, cleaning a chicken house.

Spatters of blood, feathers here and there, seven dead chickens lying in a pile, the surviving hens still in the chicken house, squawking and flapping their wings. Hagrid waved his hand at a bloodied stretch of the floor, said, "Scourgify," and the stretch of wood was clean.

"Did a fox get in?" said Hermione.

Hagrid stood, cracked his neck. "Aitches. No. Whatever did it broke the simple charms I'd put on the chicken house. Killed all four roosters, went into the hen half, took a few eggs, killed a few hens. Single puncture wound to each and drained their blood. Not sure what it was."

His clothes had stood up to the chill, but Harry grew cold as Hagrid spoke.

Hermione said, "It wouldn't be Sirius, would it?"

"Can't think what he'd get out of it. Must be something nasty coming in out of the Forbidden Forest, and it's done it during the day. Chickens were fine when I fed them at half past six. Stay away from the treeline."

Hermione said, "Maybe we should go inside."

"It's only chickens." But his voice quavered at the end. Voldemort wouldn't have anything to do with dead chickens. Would he?

"Harry, going outside was already silly before we heard about the chickens."

"It oughta be fine so long as we stick close to the castle."

"I'm getting cold," said Hermione.

"That's cheap."

"But I really am getting cold."

Harry was too. The breeze had picked up and the sun had been veiled by a thin cloud.

Hagrid said, "Do I need to go with you two?"

Harry said, "No, it's fine. Sundial Garden to the Wooden Bridge. That's the closest entrance to here."
He warmed as he and Hermione resumed, keeping his gaze on the forest as they walked.

A flash of black in the trees.

Harry stopped, his eyes an owl's, and the vague black form resolved into the large black dog he'd met on the snow the day the dementors had come.

Harry turned into a lion.

Hermione yelled, "Harry, no!"

He leapt, bounding across the open space, sprinting into the trees.

The dog saw him and ran, dodging between trees, but Harry was faster, catching up, racing alongside for a moment, then leaping ahead, sliding through a puddle and facing the dog, forcing it to stop.

Harry turned into himself, standing in the mud beneath the shade of the Forbidden Forest. "Sirius?"

The dog turned into the man he'd seen in Hedwig's memory. Except his hair was cut unevenly short, and the scraggly beard had been replaced by stubble and a smudge of mud.

"You're Harry."

"We caught Pettigrew. He confessed to everything. The Ministry wants to give you a re-trial."

The man's face was slack in astonishment, and Harry wondered if he should say it again.

"We never would've realized it if your escaping hadn't made us think about the case. And if you hadn't tried to help us against the dementors. It's all in the papers. Everyone thinks you're innocent."

Sirius squatted, head in hands.

"Come with me to Dumbledore's office."

It took Sirius several tries to speak. "Where is Peter?"

"In jail, awaiting trial."

"I was going to kill him."

"Please don't. They'll send you back to Azkaban if you do. And I'd like to have a godfather. And Lupin would like to have his friend back." Harry took a few steps back toward Hogwarts, and Sirius took a few steps after him before stopping.

"Remus is here?"

"Like a security guard. Though he's probably still in his suitcase waiting out an attack of the Shakes. Come on."

Harry walked slowly toward the castle, Sirius coming hesitantly after him, glancing through the leaves at the sun. Sirius said "Remus should be coming out about now."

"How do you figure that?"

"Just a guess. They know Peter won't be held by a normal cell, don't they?"

"Considering you got out of Azkaban, yes. And they know Peter's a rat animagus, and a special kind of animagus."

"You too," said Sirius. "I knew James and Lily were doing something, but that was a shock to see, you turning into the Gryffindor lion that day on the snow."

Coming out of the trees, Harry saw two familiar faces running to the forest. Hermione, and Severus Snape. Slowing to a walk as they saw Harry and Sirius coming out, Snape's wand ready.

Sirius froze, legs tensed, ready to run.

Harry said, "Please stay. It's alright, I promise."

Sirius took a deep breath and said, "Severus."

"Black."

Sirius looked at the ground. "I kept expecting to see you in Azkaban. Then I heard that you were a double-agent during the war."

"And I hear you weren't a double-agent after all. But you should understand why I have to be cautious. Point to your wand, but do not touch it."

"You're not gonna try anything funny, are you?"

"As much as I might like to, no."

Sirius pointed to a pocket.

Snape flicked his wand, and Sirius's wand flew from the pocket into Snape's other hand. "I won't stun you, though I should. Hands behind your back. Walk in front of me. We're going to Dumbledore. Aitches, behind me." Another flick of Snape's wand, and Sirius's hands were bound.

As they walked to the castle, Snape said, "Running into the Forbidden Forest after an escaped convict. More detentions for you, Potter."

"Detentions?" said Sirius.

"It won't hurt him to spend a few hours copying lines while thinking about how poorly the human brain evaluates small but non-trivial chances of disaster."

Harry said to Hermione, "I can't believe you got Snape."

Hermione said, "I can't believe you ran into the Forbidden Forest after Sirius Black. What was I supposed to do, run after you? Fat lot of help I would be if it turned out he wanted to kill you after all."

"It worked out fine."

"If you do something that has a five percent of killing you and you don't die, that doesn't mean it was safe."

"Pettigrew confessed."

Sirius said, "I have to agree with the girl. That was brave, but stupid."

"But you didn't try to kill me."

"That doesn't make it smart."

"Whatever." It didn't matter. What did matter was his godfather was probably going to be exonerated within a few months. "We're going with you to Dumbledore's office. He's already started the paperwork for your re-trial."

Sirius said, "But thank you. For coming to get me."

Up the wooden bridge, into the empty Sunday corridors.

Sirius said, "Severus. In Azkaban, the memories that tormented me were not always of events that felt bad at the time. I've been wanting to apologize."

A hitch in Severus stride, his voice flat as he said, "The dementors have unhinged your mind. If you want to blubber, do it later. And not in front of students."

Nearly to the tower that held Dumbledore's office, two figures came around the corner. Lupin, pale and sunken-cheeked, talking to Ron and frowning deeply.

Harry and Hermione ran forward.

Lupin saw Sirius, gaped, his wand appeared in hand, and Harry and Hermione skidded to a halt in front of Sirius, hands up, shouting over each other.

"-It's fine-"

"-wasn't him-"

"-caught Pettigrew-"

"-good guy-"

"-re-trial-"

"-Pettigrew did it-"

"Talk sense!" yelled Lupin.

Snape moved up, more beside Sirius than behind. "A great deal happened while you waited out the... Shakes in your suitcase. Peter Pettigrew has been caught."

"Peter is dead."

"No, he's awaiting trial under very tight watch. He confessed under Veritaserum to being the Potters' true Secret Keeper. It was he who betrayed Lily, not Black. But at this moment Black is still convicted of murder and Death Eatery, and is proceeding with us to the Headmaster's office. Come if you like."

Ron walked past.

Lupin leaned against the wall.

"Peter's alive? But then-"

Black said, "I'm innocent, Remus. It's good to see you."

Lupin ran a hand through his hair. "After all these-Ron, what are you doing?"

Harry turned.

It happened very quickly.

Ron stood behind Sirius, yelling about Scabbers, his eyes angry and confused. He held the ruby-jeweled hilt of something like a knife, the brown shaft thin as a thick-wire, all point, no edge.

Ron drove it into Sirius's back.

Sirius fell, screaming, the weapon sticking out of his back. Ron fell, hit by spells from Lupin and Snape.

Harry knelt next to Sirius. You were supposed to leave the weapon since it was the perfect shape to stop up the hole it had made.

Lupin yanked it out, hissed, "a sucker," threw it aside, and pointed his wand at the hole in Sirius Black's back.

The weapon clattered, blood red on the stone floor. The blood faded, absorbed into the brown shaft like dirt up a vacuum.

Snape passed a hand over Ron's blank eyes. "He's been confunded."

:::

I was so damn tempted to have Sirius try to kill or capture Harry in the forest. But I had no idea what would happen next if I did that, and I'd already written the end of the chapter.

Thanks to Flashx11 for proofreading.

Kids are stupid af in lots of ways and I'm certainly guilty at times of writing the Aitches as older than they are, but the sort of pseudo-philosophical navel gazing during detention with Snape is totally within the capacity of lots of 11 and 12 year-olds. In real life, the conversation would probably take 40 minutes, but ain't nobody got the time to read that. I condensed.

Still, I worry about that conversation. It was supposed to be fun, disorienting and emotionally charged under the skin, but something toxic to good writing happened; I developed my own crank theory in response to a complicated, much studied issue that I don't understand. Namely, I decided that the liar paradox can be resolved if infinity can be sensibly described as even or odd. (Google says there are some senses in which infinity is even, something to do with ordered pairs and transfinite ordinals, but I don't even know what those are.) I've tried to strain out the resulting self-satisfied Dunning-Kruger taint, but I fear it yet abides.

You thought I'd gone a bridge too far with Ron's obliviousness, hadn't you?

Malfoy was originally supposed to be a more important character than he's been thus far, but I kept delaying club sign-ups and as the story's progressed I've become less enchanted with devoting a lot of words to intramural sports. Still, his appearances should pick up.

Why are you here? To read fiction for free. So do it. Go to Amazon, select the department books, search for Monstrosity, choose the one by JLL, (L, J L) and read the free sample. It's free.

Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King" is the funnest 2+ minutes in instrumental music, imo.

To me this chapter was a little uneventful. The next chapter should be even chiller, but the story should pick up from there. Some of my favorite scenes are on the horizon.