Disclaimer: see chapter one. Nothing's changed.

ooOOoo

Chapter 68: "Whoops."

Harry bumped into Draco the next morning on the way to breakfast, just along the third floor corridor from the Charms classroom where they'd both just turned in their essays. Malfoy looked rather tired – Harry, groggy himself, didn't see why, as it wasn't like Malfoy had been out in the Forest last night tracking down Crookshanks. "How's the election going?" Harry asked as they waited for a staircase. He scuffed at the marks in the floor with his shoe – Filch never had managed to get rid of the scrapes Simon had left there that day the horse had jumped from stairs to landing.

"Okay. Maybe. Who knows?" Draco grinned, yawned, and then, as a staircase nudged the landing and they stepped onto it together, he added, "You can sway things only so much, after that it's up to chance. I'm curious: exactly how much should I leave to chance – I mean, how do you know when you've worked too hard and people are getting suspicious of you just because of that?" Harry couldn't answer that. Mostly because it wasn't something he'd ever considered in his life. Draco didn't seem to notice his mild confusion, because he was continuing, "…But to be honest, I'm totally knackered 'cos of that book you found for me."

"Good, was it?"

Draco nearly tripped on the stairs and his face started getting that pink tinge that warned Harry Malfoy was about to lose his rag. "Haven't you read it?"

"Er… I started it. But so many people have recommended it…" Draco's pupils were pinpoints. A change of subject was in order – fortunately Harry had a brilliant one up his sleeve. "Hey, Crookshanks got back last night. Do you have time after breakfast?"

Draco let out a hiss of breath. "History of Magic. Same as you. So, yes."

"Good-o. If you want to skip it we can ask Hermione to take notes for us," Harry added as a peace offering. Even so, Draco didn't seem totally defused, so Harry decided to clarify something he'd been wondering about since last night. "Uh, Malfoy… If you don't mind me asking… what did you find there – in blindness?"

Draco hesitated, one foot in mid air over the next step. He put it down slowly. "No, I don't mind," he said quietly. He took a quick look around, but the nearest student was far out of earshot. The staircase flexed and moved, stretching its banisters as if still waking up. Draco and Harry resumed walking down as soon as they were sure it wasn't going to shake itself like a dog. "Solitude," Draco said at last. "I found self-sufficiency. It's been hard to keep them now that I'm not blind anymore – not that I'm complaining. But… I have to remind myself from time-to-time. I liked to believe I had both before I was blind, but I didn't. Not really. I always had my parents to rely on. And then I had Crabbe and Goyle to back me up."

Harry respectfully didn't point out how Draco had replaced parents and bookends with a horse. Just as he didn't point out the pale dents in the wood where hooves had struck. It probably wouldn't be good to remind Draco how he'd nearly been killed – especially not as Colin had made tentative noises about taking some more photos.

"Nothing else?"

Draco's grey eyes skittered away, surveying the entrance hall, tallying up the students passing below and on the other staircases. He nodded to a sleepy Nott and another Slytherin Harry didn't really know, who were going upwards on another staircase, essays in hand. They nodded back politely, somehow managing not to look at Harry. "Nothing worth mentioning. So. Last night. Everything okay? Anything, er?"

Harry nodded. He appreciated needing privacy. Especially right now… "The cat came back with a message or something. Last night. Snuffles and… some of us went out to find him."

Draco turned and skewered him with a look. "Who –? What did…?" He paused, a little too pale, as a trio of giggling third year Hufflepuffs clattered down the stairs, overtaking them in the rush for breakfast.

What was Malfoy upset about now? Harry covered what could have been an incriminatingly awkward silence with, "I was going to ask you about spells on brooms – how long do they last without being activated, is what I mean. When do you think we'll be allowed to get the teams together for Quidditch again? Someone was saying an opacity charm would go high enough to screen…"

ooOOoo

After breakfast, where Luna was absent (and Ron remarked it was probably lucky for Dumbledore, because Luna had bailed him up at dinner last night over something he hadn't been able to overhear… not that he'd been eavesdropping, of course… but, y'know…) and Hermione grudgingly agreed to take notes as she slapped the small silver cylinder into Harry's hand, sarcastically adding that at the very least Draco could put it towards another set of shoes for the horse, Harry, Draco and a shaggy black dog found a quiet spot down by Hagrid's hut where they could claim they were helping Hagrid if anyone asked. Hagrid himself was out trying to coax the Sphinx into making a guest appearance in CoMC this week. Harry doubted his chances, not if the Sphinx had a hangover.

Draco told Harry they didn't need a dog following them around, but Harry, taking a breath, said that Snuffles could keep an eye out as they talked. And Draco didn't have to tell him anything he didn't want to.

In the pumpkin patch where Sirius had waited in dog form after Harry's disastrous experience with the Triwizard Portkey Cup, Harry and Draco threw up a do-not-disturb wall Draco had learned from… well, Harry was learning not to ask too many questions about where Draco had learned a lot of his spells – do-not-disturbs were Dark magic, working on the human psyche as they did. But it meant Sirius was safe to change back into human form for a short time – Draco was sure the spell would divert attention onto just about anything else in the universe instead of what it was concealing for at least ten minutes.

Harry handed the cylinder over. "It's got to be for you," he said.

"How'd you figure that?" Draco said, turning the cylinder over and frowning down at it as if he half expected it to explode. His eyes widened: he must have seen the picture engraved into it as Harry said,

"Well, the little silver dragon with its tail curved into a 'D' was a bit of a hint."

"Mm. Well, here goes nothing…" Draco winced, leaning back with his eyes slitted nearly shut and face turned away as he unscrewed the lid.

Nothing happened.

He turned it over and a small scroll of paper fell out onto his palm, followed by a smaller bag.

The scroll and bag quickly expanded until the bag filled the palm of his hand, knocking the scroll (now a foot long) onto the ground. Harry picked it up gingerly, then, as something tickled his nose, he brought it closer for a careful sniff.

The scent of freesias filled his mind with the memory of twenty-one years ago, Narcissa Black passing behind himself and Severus as they sat eating breakfast with the Slytherins. "It's from your mum," Harry said jealously. He'd remembered Narcissa Black just from the faintest hint of her perfume like it was some sort of trigger – there would never be a perfumed letter from his mother that would let him recall Lily with such vividness…

"How d'you know," Draco said, eyes narrowing again.

"It's her perfume," said Sirius, sitting on the other side of Harry to Draco. "Funny how I can never remember an odour consciously, but then when I smell it again it all comes flooding back…" He frowned, as if some of the memories were not ones he wanted to return, and glanced in Harry's direction without actually looking at him.

Draco's lips tightened and he snatched the scroll out of Harry's hand. Wax crackled as he slid a thumb nail underneath and popped the seal.

His face went pale.

"What?" said Harry.

"The Dark Lord is going to raid Hogsmeade on Thursday morning. Early – say, four-thirty. He's counting on catching everyone in their beds."

Harry grabbed the parchment and scanned it quickly. "It doesn't say that."

Draco glared poison at him. "That's because you don't know how to read it."

"May I?" said Sirius. He held out his hand. After a few seconds, Draco nodded reluctantly. Sirius took the scroll and read in silence for a few minutes. Then he nodded. "Briar code. I can't read this."

Draco nodded. "How'd you know it?"

"Great-grandmother Briar invented it. I've got one of her letters. Had, rather. It's probably still confusing whichever Auror was assigned to go through my personal effects. I expect the letter is coded to you. Any idea what she used? Blood? Spit? Hair?"

"Probably hair," Draco admitted.

"We need to tell Dumbledore," said Harry.

"No, we don't," Draco said stiffly.

Sirius sighed. His expression was that of a man contemplating a long march across eggshells. "You can trust Dumbledore."

Draco gave him an incredulous look. "Do I have to spell it out to you? Okay – it's something like this: S-L-Y-T-H-E-R-I-N. Get it?"

Sirius merely retained his carefully impassive visage, although a small muscle jumped at the corner of his mouth, suggesting he wasn't as patient as he wanted to appear. "What are your options? You can decide not to tell anyone, thereby standing back and allowing the slaughter of Hogsmeade… And I can tell you it's not a proud thing to sit back and let others die because information you possess hasn't been passed on in their defence."

"What would you know about it?"

"Well, I might have informed people that Lily and James had been betrayed by Pettigrew but I kept my stupid mouth shut, thereby allowing that little shit to run free all those years and finally reach another vile milestone by resurrecting Voldemort."

Draco frowned. "So why didn't you tell people the truth?"

Sirius barked a dry laugh. He didn't sound amused. "Good question. I suppose I thought there was nothing I could say they'd believe. Not that anyone was listening… but I could have tried to get a message through to Dumbledore. Warned him about Pettigrew."

"Why not Lupin?"

"Because I was the one who'd originally thought he'd gone over to the Dark Lord. I persuaded James and Lily not to let him be the secret keeper… and to let people think it was me and then switch over to Peter. And after… they caught me… I was a little bit overcome, I think, by… let's call it guilt. I don't really have a word for it, but it's worse than guilt." He rubbed his hands together slowly, seemingly without noticing what he was doing. "Sort of a numbness where you can hardly stand up, even before the Dementors get to you."

Draco said nothing, his grey eyes cold and evaluating. "Nervous collapse. Nice story, but it still doesn't persuade me I should trust Dumbledore."

Sirius shrugged. "So Harry can tell him. He doesn't need to say where he got the information from. But it would be better coming from you."

"I'll think about it."

"I expect the people in Hogsmeade would hope you don't think about it too long. Not planning a midnight ride to warn them, are you?"

Draco met Sirius' eyes with a hard glare which, Harry guessed, meant he'd been thinking exactly that and didn't like Sirius suggesting it.

"What else was in the letter?" Harry said, before things could get more tense – he appreciated the fact Sirius was trying hard to be reasonable, but was doubtful of how long this would last.

Draco broke off his staring match with Sirius (and it was the first time Harry had ever seen any family resemblance, but it was there in the expression around the eyes and the line of the cheek along with a certain set to the chin he'd noted Narcissa also possessed). "The recipe. You know – that potion I told you about."

Harry went very still, but his heart was suddenly beating double-time. "Do you think it will work?" he breathed.

Draco shrugged and scratched his nose with a trace of irritation. "Dunno. Let's ask Granger."

ooOOoo

They saw Hermione at lunch after Divinations for Harry and Arithmancy for Draco. "Can we get the notes?" Harry asked, taking a seat next to her.

"What?"

"Oh – ear still dodgy?" The bell had rung so loud she was deaf in one ear (Pomfrey said it would come right in a couple of days).

"What?"

Harry stood up and went to sit on the other side of her. "Can we get those notes?" he said again, louder and clearer.

She rolled her eyes and handed over the notes for History in silence. Harry took them, knowing a reproach for missing classes when he saw one. Draco smiled sunnily and said, "Thanks, Granger," and it was hard to tell whether he knew Hermione was annoyed and ignoring it, or totally oblivious. He wandered off to the Slytherin table, probably seeing the same thing Harry did: obviously talking about Narcissa's potion would have to wait until they were somewhere private. Shouting about it over lunch wouldn't exactly be a good move.

Harry did see Luna at lunch, but only briefly, and she didn't stay at the Gryffindor table for more time than it took to eat a piece of pie and air a brief opinion on fairy dust as the next narcotic to be peddled by the Ministry of Magic, before wandering up the High Table and exchanging a few words with Dumbledore, who looked uncomfortable behind his flowing white beard. The afternoon passed with double Potions, taken by Sprout today, who was in a nervous mood (word had it that a Slytherin seventh year – Harry suspected it was Elmsworthy – had been asking questions that morning about the pyrokinetic properties of dark-of-the-moon fern seeds when brewed with salamander blood) and unusually strict, especially when it came to the actual brewing of a potion for removing scale blight from Chinese mandrake leaves. Neville was put at the front of the class along with Hermione, and told (loudly for the still partially-deaf Hermione's benefit) to take notes on the way Hermione brewed the potion. Everyone in the class looked relieved at that. And then there was an enforced study period after a short break – the students had no doubts it was designed purely to keep them out of trouble. Luna wasn't there. Perhaps she'd asked Dumbledore for special leave to go and tend to Simon or that potion she claimed to be working on. Harry wished he'd thought to play the Simon card, as he and the other fifth, sixth and seventh-years slogged their way through the underlying principles of transfiguring animate to inanimate objects under McGonagall's watchful eye. The Transfigurations mistress had claimed that sloppy wandwork wasn't enough to explain some of the more bizarre transfigurations which had been performed by the older students, so it was back to basics. Just before they were set loose to wash up for dinner, she did mollify them by promising an explanation of the Animagus transformation, and had promised the more enthusiastic students (Harry, Ron and Hermione among them) a series of personal tutorials to see if they could perform the highly-demanding piece of magic. Harry would have thought Luna keen on it, too, and resolved to talk to her about it at dinner. It would be fun to do a harmless project together – one that didn't involve life or death.

But Luna wasn't at dinner. Harry did look for her, but she wasn't there. Oh, well… maybe later. He planned on going up to see Simon after dinner – there'd been enough cerebral work for one day. It would be nice just to take the horse out for some good, healthy exercise. With luck, Harry's idea of exercise would coincide with Simon's, and no-one (especially Harry) would get hurt. For once. He was meant to have supervision, of course, and wondered if Hooch, whom he liked, would be keen on going with him. She'd not ridden Simon for some time now, so Harry could probably coax her out of the castle with the promise of some time on the horse. Shame he couldn't take Sirius up as the token adult. But as soon as everyone knew who he was, Sirius would be able to accompany Harry and his friends in public and not just in dog form.

Where was Sirius? Harry half-expected to see Snuffles over at the Slytherin table, watching Draco in a silent reminder that a certain someone should be discussing a certain something with a certain headmaster. But no, and if Draco was worrying about the message from his mother he was hiding it well behind a spirited conversation with Bulstrode and Nott. Trudi sat nearby, soaking up his every word, and Harry smiled to himself.

Sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table with Hermione (who kept shaking her head at the ringing in her ears) and Ron, Harry wondered in whispers just how soon Dumbledore would tell everyone about you-know-what. "I mean," he murmured as the remnants of the main courses blinked out and were replaced with a variety of desserts (the house elves always tried to cheer everyone up on Mondays), "Elmsworthy's already figured it out…" He looked around and realised Elmsworthy wasn't at dinner either. But then the Slytherin often skipped social activities in favour of extra time doing research, so that wasn't a surprise. Lupin wasn't up at the High Table – he was probably out checking the barrier with Sirius. Come to think of it, Harry didn't know any other teacher who patrolled half as much as the werewolf. Snape had been the one to avoid when he'd been out sneaking around at nights, he recalled with mixed feelings – maybe Remus really was falling into the Snape-shaped hole left at Hogwarts. And maybe, a sneaky little voice Harry didn't like added, maybe Harry should give Remus the benefit of the doubt for once. Harry might have loathed Snape, but he had to admit (grudgingly and only with the benefit of hindsight and examples he'd been given of students who got up to mischief for far worse reasons that Harry had ever had) that Snape had performed a vital function within the school. Nasty though he'd been, Snape had been at his nastiest when rules were broken. And although some rules were just plain stupid and even Dumbledore had turned a blind eye to Harry's escapades after hours, most were for the greater benefit. Lupin had only allowed them out of the castle last night to look for Crookshanks on the condition that he accompany them. He could have simply locked them in their dormitory. In fact without his assistance, Hermione might have died in that quicksand…

Frowning slightly, Harry turned his mind away from that with some effort as he found a bowl and dished himself up some fruit salad and trifle. Lupin had been there. Lupin had, in fact, been right to insist they not go out into the Forest without three other adult wizards (or two wizards and Hagrid). But it didn't mean Harry would go spilling all his secrets – the memory of how Lupin had dismissed Hermione's offer of help as childish back before they'd decided to send someone back in time to find the Golden Sickle still rankled like a thorn broken off under the skin. But what if Lupin had been trying to protect them? Harry was sixteen now – he didn't need protecting. Remus should recognise that. After all, he'd been running around at the full moon with his friends in Animagus form to keep him from attacking people when he was Harry's age…

…Maybe Lupin wasn't able to recognise a mature sixteen year old because he'd never been one. Harry and his friends had always been more mature than the Marauders. Well, usually more mature. Apart from Harry's disappearance back through time and sneaking around after hours under an Invisibility Cloak, yes, much more mature. Oh, and making up potions with ingredients stolen from Snape's stores, crashing a flying car into the Whomping Willow, going out to talk to Acromantulas, going out after Malfoy and coming back with a nutty stallion, taking on a three-headed dog or a troll, not working on the clues in the Tournament and relying on dumb luck, invading the Ministry of Magic after Harry'd been having visions sent by Voldemort, and…

…Lupin's opinions hadn't exactly been formed in a vacuum. It was amazing he let Harry go out without specialised safety equipment, Harry thought with a wry grin.

"Harry?" said Ron.

He was smiling to himself. Not a healthy sign. "Er… just wondering, do you think Professor Lupin would help us with the Animagus spell?" Yes. Maybe he'd try asking Lupin about becoming an Animagus as well as Sirius… and maybe if they caught Simon in a really mellow mood, he could try teaching the horse that he didn't need to be frightened of werewolves…

Ron shrugged. "Could be a good idea to at least ask. He might know someone with experience at it. I hope whatever… happens about it happens sooner than later, as it would be nice to – What was that noise?"

"What noise?" complained Hermione. She stuck her little finger in her ear and wriggled it.

But Harry thought he'd heard something, too. Sort of a low booming noise, like a dragon coughing underground. It was hard to make anything distinct out over the hubbub of conversation in the Hall, however. He craned his neck to look over the heads of all the students idly choosing from among the desserts, trying to see through the open doors down the other end of the Hall.

There was nothing immediately apparent. "Dunno. Probably just somebody dropped something." Harry shrugged mentally, turned his attention back to the trifle, snagged a big spoon before Ron could get it, and was smiling sweetly at a mock-scowling Ron when –

– When there was a clatter from the Entrance Hall, a scream of delight that sounded alarmingly like Peeves finding mischief, and a loud clanging of armour falling down that even Hermione heard.

"Uh oh," said Harry. That clatter sounded a lot like –

Screams from the students erupted as a tall black horse cantered in through the open doors, silver shoes ringing out on the stone.

There was someone leaning forward, arms wrapped around the horse's neck. Harry just had time to register the horrible realisation that it was Sirius when Simon, dark eyes fixing on Harry and a determined expression on the long, bony face, pricked his ears forward and cantered down between the tables towards him, veering to avoid a shrieking second year.

Students screeched and vaulted over the tables to get as far away as possible. Simon ignored them. He even ignored the trio who'd tried to take him out of the paddock yesterday morning as they howled something about bloodthirsty vampire horses coming to hunt them down and streaked out of the Hall.

Harry stood, wondering if he should leap over the table like everyone else or stand where he was and get trampled, decided to try for bravery and trust in the hope that horses don't like standing on squishy things such as humans.

He held up his hands.

"Whoa, Simon!"

Simon kept cantering towards him. Harry was reminded yet again that horses are big, and had a momentary vision of himself squashed against the High Table by half a ton of juggernaut.

Hermione and Ron shot under the table and popped up on the other side. "Harry! Get over here!" Hermione squeaked.

"Simon! WHOA!"

The horse bounced to a halt, silver shoes skating on the stone floor. Sirius, already lying halfway along the long neck, yelped and kept going as Simon put his head down. The wizard rolled down the last bit of neck, somehow managing to tumble head over heels between Simon's ears, and, to a resounding crash of glasses and cutlery, landed on his back in one of the desserts.

Yellow jelly splattered the table, the cringing Harry, and Simon, who snorted and licked at the bit hanging from his nose like a rather colourful bogey. Apparently pineapple jelly was to the horse's taste, because after a short but (judging by the cant of the ears) deeply philosophical contemplation of the merits of jelly over panic, he began licking at the blobs still wobbling at random on the table.

Sirius gasped for breath. His face was very white. In his white-knuckled hands he clutched the reins.

"Hah. I finally got them back," he said shakily with a manic grin. "You don't get rid of me that easily, horse!" he added, and laughed.

Apparently unconcerned by this slight to his abilities, Simon turned his attentions to a bowl of fruit salad. There was a loud slurping as the horse tried to work out whether it was better to eat the stuff or drink it.

There was a new set of screams along the theme of: "It's Sirius Black!" and wands were coming out through the Hall.

Simon lifted his head at the sight.

His ears went back.

As he wiped jelly off his face and tried to shake out a bit which had slithered into his ear, Harry had another momentary vision – this time of the Great Hall being torn down by an enraged stallion with a grudge against wands.

Then Dumbledore, the Sonorous charm amplifying his voice, called out, "EVERYONE SIT DOWN! PUT YOUR WANDS AWAY! PROFESSOR FLITWICK WILL DEAL WITH BLACK!"

Even Simon blinked at this. But Dumbledore's words had immediate effect. ("I will?" squeaked Flitwick. "Oh – yes. Fine.")

It was strange how even Simon trusted Flitwick with a wand. He barely twitched an ear as the tiny professor ducked under the High Table and pointed his wand at Sirius' nose. "Don't move!" Flitwick said firmly, and struck a dramatic pose.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. Then his hands, dropping the reins. "Er… I surrender?" he said.

"Hooray!" shouted a Ravenclaw. "Professor Flitwick's captured Sirius Black! Three cheers for Flitwick!"

Cheers echoed from the ceiling. The horse danced from side to side nervously. Harry grabbed the reins before Simon could bolt again. "Steady there, old boy," he said. "Settle down. Have some more dessert or something… I'm not sure if horses should eat custard, though."

Simon turned his head until he looked back over his rump, and whuffled a soft greeting. Only Harry who was standing by the horse's head would have heard it through the loud cheering.

And that was when he saw the ashen face of Luna looking through the doors at the other end of the Hall.

He'd never seen her look half this guilty. So she was responsible for this, was she?

Harry'd never felt half this angry with her.

ooOOoo

To complicate matters, Lupin and Elmsworthy arrived close on Luna's heels. They were gasping for breath and each looked massively guilty about something although Harry wouldn't have guessed if he hadn't already known Lupin. As Luna slunk inside, Elmsworthy followed her while Lupin (correctly interpreting the dangerously cold stare from Simon) wisely crept around the edge of the Hall to join the other teachers. Dark eyes glittering with suspicion followed him until he was away from the students. Then Simon turned his attention back to what was offered on the table. He spared Sirius' hair a quick snort before rediscovering the joys of fruit salad. Colin (without getting too close to Sirius) offered a cupcake, which was cautiously eaten. Then his brother Dennis tried his luck with a custard tart, which was dribbled onto the tablecloth to a chorus of delighted 'Yuck!'s and one 'Oh, gross!' Then there was a mushrooming crowd around the horse as various students gaped at Sirius or held out offerings ranging from cake to bits of apple and grapefruit to a few cold sausage rolls. Most were from Gryffindor – it was the Gryffindor table – but Trudi was there, bossing around a handful of Hufflepuffs and telling them that of course horses were vegetarian – did they see any fangs? And honestly, didn't they know they had to hold their hands flat so's Simon didn't bite their fingers off? To Harry's amazement most of them who were there almost completely ignored Sirius. Had Dumbledore put a spell on them, or were they merely that trusting of Flitwick? Harry met Dumbledore's eyes over the heads of those crowding around, and saw the headmaster nod, tucking his wand back into his sleeve. So. This was Dumbledore's doing… Whatever spell the headmaster had cast, it was certainly helping Sirius. But what was going to happen now that the students had lost their fear of Simon?

And then Hermione and Ron were there, threatening to take points off anyone who got too close to Sirius… and students suddenly shrank back, some clustering up against Simon.

He opened his mouth to tell them to back off in case Simon got scared and kicked someone, and, to his surprise, heard himself say, "He can't see under his nose – mind your fingers, you lot."

"That's what I said," said Trudi importantly. "See? Simon's not dangerous. He's very nice."

Simon was in some sort of equine dilemma. His ears were almost touching at the tips and his eyes bulged greedily at all the food being shoved at him. He was snatching at cakes even as he chewed at what had already been given. Harry was going to tell them to stop when his own eyes bulged as he noticed Dennis and a second year had managed to climb onto Simon's back. "Hey! Get off, you idiots!" he said as sternly as he dared – he really didn't want to upset Simon at this point. But the pair slid down, laughing like the horse was some new variety of playground equipment. Simon hunched up his back in surprise, but didn't kick. Thank Merlin… Harry began taking a mental tally of the students he would have words with later. Or maybe he'd just sic Comrade Draco onto them…

Speaking of whom – luckily for Simon (because Harry was beginning to wonder which the horse was going to have first: colic or a choleric fit) – Draco was now shouldering his way through the throng.

"Cut it out, you lot," he snapped, apparently less worried about upsetting Simon than Harry was. "Don't give him – for Merlin's sake, Potter, that maniac just gave Simon a sausage roll! Make him spit it out! Oof!" He'd just been squashed between the two large Ravenclaw seventh year Beaters.

But Simon was already chewing with a considering air and had swallowed the sausage roll before Harry could weigh up the dangers of sticking his hand into a horse's mouth.

"I thought you said he was a vegetarian?" a Hufflepuff complained to Trudi.

Trudi looked ruffled at having her expertise doubted. "I guess he got confused."

"Well, let's try him out on another one just to see," said a Ravenclaw, taking out a notebook. "It may be a new variation on horses – we could write a paper on it!"

"Don't you bloody dare! He's not meant to eat meat. He's just being a guts." Draco stuck an elbow in someone's ribs and snarled as they squeaked in protest. "Go on – move! All of you, get out of it!" he bellowed, and students jumped and looked around nervously. Draco didn't have his wand out, but his face promised slow and malicious Malfoy revenge upon anyone who didn't get away from his horse. In that moment the fear which Sirius should have inspired found a new source in the advancing red-faced and tousled-blond-haired Slytherin. "Don't make me find you later…" he growled.

Simon looked hurt as the hands holding out food suddenly shrank back out of fear of an outraged Malfoy. Luckily the angry shout hadn't upset him – unless all the food on the table was a happy distraction, which it seemed to be. The horse stretched out his neck and mouthed at another sausage roll ("Ah-ha!" exclaimed the Ravenclaw, quill poised to take notes) then spat it out ("Oh.") before Draco, leaning across the table to snatch it away, could reach him. Draco batted it off the table just in case and then wiped his hand ("Oi!") on the Ravenclaw.

"Everyone get away from Sirius Black," Flitwick ordered.

That seemed to do the trick. An expanding circle opened up around Harry, Sirius, Flitwick and Simon as the students suddenly remembered there was a murderer on the table.

Harry refrained from giving himself a slap on the forehead at the sheer stupidity of the human race.

He wasn't alone. Ron, freckles disappearing as his face coloured with annoyance, was dragging students out of the way by the backs of their collars, using his height and rangy arms to excellent effect. Hermione was trying to use persuasion on the students, but Harry could tell she was impressed by Ron's approach, and she soon gave up and allowed Ron to sway the argument with brute strength.

With none of his usual twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore strode towards them and, wand to his throat, loudly ordered the Hall cleared of all students other than Potter, Malfoy, Lovegood and Elmsworthy. The students filed out, leaving the staff, the named students and a horse. And Sirius, who was still lying on the table eyeing a nearby chocolate cake which had escaped the onslaught. Angry though he was, Harry edged the cake closer. Sirius managed a watery smile of thanks and silently took a piece as the last students trailed out the doors. Sirius offered another piece to Simon. The horse snorted, blowing crumbs everywhere, then bit into the cake, tossing his head and dropping crumbs into Flitwick's hair. It seemed to be to equine tastes, because Simon then snuffled at the rest of the chocolate cake and began turning it into a mess. Harry pulled on the reins and, reluctantly, the horse left the remains of the cake alone. "You'll get fat," Harry whispered.

Draco ducked under the table and joined them. His mouth was in a thin line and he quickly ran his eyes over Simon's body and his hands over Simon's legs, checking for injuries. Still with his eyes on the cake, Simon picked up his feet to let Draco check under his hooves for stones, then, when Draco straightened and patted his neck, turned and whuffled into the boy's hair, leaving a streak of chocolate icing. Luna took out her wand and cast a quick cleaning spell along with a small, hopeful smile. If she was expecting thanks she didn't get it – Draco shot her a glare instead. Luna dropped her eyes.

"Best get 'im outside," Hagrid rumbled as Simon pawed at the ground in frustration at being so unfairly denied chocolate cake. "Harry?"

"I'd like Mr Potter to stay with us a little longer," Dumbledore said. "Mr Malfoy, if you would be so kind?"

Draco (expression mutinous) sullenly agreed to take Simon back to the paddock. He had to be reassured that Black wouldn't be questioned until he'd returned. Harry offered to meet him up at the paddock and double him back on his Firebolt, but Draco said he'd be fine and added loudly that he wanted someone who wasn't Luna and was involved in the care of Simon to stick around and find out what was really going on. Although Luna was now scarlet with mortification, Harry was privately flattered to be trusted within the bounds of Malfoy paranoia. However, he didn't think he would be allowed much input into Sirius' latest trial proceedings.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Dumbledore this angry. Luna still wouldn't meet anyone's eye. Elmsworthy also seemed genuinely repentant about his part in this (although like Luna that still hadn't been clarified), and Lupin, safely on the other side of the Hall, unnaturally busy making sure the last of the students were out and away from the doors.

Harry sighed and looked around as Draco led Simon carefully between the tables and out the doors, the horse sending a vicious glare at the werewolf as they went.

There was cake and sausage rolls on the floor. Pumpkin juice puddled on the tables and dripped to turn what was on the floor into an extra-sticky mess. Harry reached up and found he had custard in his hair. He looked across the table, wishing Hermione and Ron were still there (Dumbledore hadn't asked for them to stay, unfortunately), seeing only half the currant bun which hadn't been to Simon's tastes, Sirius, irrevocably revealed to the entire school, and Luna staring down at her hands with her lank blonde hair spilling forward to curtain her face.

What a mess.

ooOOoo