Aberforth caught up to Lyra as she crested the hill, and the castle gates could be seen in the distance.

"What's the play?" He murmured to her, matching her stride.

"The truth, or as close to it as I can without revealing that in top of being a mass murderer, my brother is also an unregistered animagus," Lyra slowed her pace slightly.

"So what is the truth, then? You carried your petrified brother into my pub, and were beset by dementors when he happened to somehow escape the body-bind you put him into? And then you destroyed a dementor like it was nothing?"

Lyra frowned, "No, the truth is I chased my brother into Hogsmeade, and took shelter in your pub when I realized I was being chased by dementors. Then I told them to leave and they did."

"That's oversimplifying things a bit."

Lyra threw her hands up, "What do you want me to say, Abe? I don't think they'll appreciate that I'd rather not turn my brother over, and my current working theory on the dementor is a stretch at best."

"You have a theory on that already?"

"Like I said, it's not a good one, but that's hardly the point -"

He cut her off, "Care to share it with the class?"

Lyra frowned, "Not until I run some things by Croaker, and even then maybe not. It's not the important thing at the moment. What is important is doing what I should have done twelve years ago."

"Which is?"

"Protect my family."

"How very noble of you," Aberforth said dryly, "And how do you plan to make that work?"

The image of the sword flashed in her mind again, and she bit back a humorless grin.

"Time. I just need time."

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief when Shacklebolt and Scrimgeour finally entered the office. They'd asked to see the Gryffindor dormitories, and the anticipation of waiting was going to kill her. Not because she was nervous, but because Lupin sat next to her looking like a scolded puppy, and Aberforth hovered over her, grinding his teeth and scowling at Albus. Both brothers were making an effort to not make eye contact, and the tension was reaching an unbearable point.

The Aurors looked tired, and Scrimgeour limped slightly, which Lyra was pretty sure was a new development. Shacklebolt took in the room with a nod to Albus, and then his eyes focused intensely on Lyra.

"Thank you, Dumbledore, that will add something to our report," Scrimgeour said, and both Dumbledores looked up.

Albus nodded, steepling his fingers, "Of course. Would you like a chair?"

Scrimgeour shook his head, looking at Lyra, "Just tell me the new story. Where did Black escape to now?" he frowned, "Don't tell me you got knocked out again."

Lyra met his gaze, "Fortunately no, I did not. I left out the front door, saw Sirius running towards the gates, and followed him. We ended up in Hogsmeade, where the entire dementor patrol showed up. Being familiar with my solicitor's primary occupation, I took shelter in his pub at which point my colleague showed up," she indicated Lupin, "From there, it seems the dementor patrol was rather… excited and we were forced to drive them away. Unfortunately, it seems Sirius was lost in the excitement."

Shacklebolt had conjured a notebook from somewhere and was jotting notes with a fountain pen. Scrimgeour looked unconvinced.

"So that's it? You chased him out, and he just so happened to get away?" he said.

Lyra paused, and took a breath, "Auror Scrimgeour, forgive my question, but you are aware of what a professor does, correct?" She kept her voice steady and mild.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you know what a professor does?"

"I hardly think -" Scrimgeour frowned, "Fine, I'll play along. A professor teaches, Ms. Black."

"Exactly. A professor teaches. It is my job as a professor to teach. Artificing, in this case, so it aligns nicely with my other job as an Unspeakable doing research, but the majority of my job as a professor is to pass knowledge on to the next generation of witches and wizards."

"What is your point?"

"I just wanted to make sure you understood my current position, Auror Scrimgeour. Nowhere in my job description does it list catching escaped convicts," Lyra leaned forward, "So yes, that is it. I chased my brother into Hogsmeade, took shelter in a pub, and fought off an entire patrol of dementors - which I'll also add was not an easy feat, even with two other fully qualified wizards. Catching my brother ceased to be a priority once he was no longer inside the school grounds, particularly as it was not my job."

The silence was almost deafening. Lyra didn't break eye contact as Scrimgeour turned a few different shades of red. He finally looked away, and ran a hand over his face, suddenly seeming much older than he had before. Lyra almost felt sorry for him. Almost

"Do either of you have anything to add? See anything useful?" Scrimgeour gestured to Abe and Lupin, who both shook their heads.

"I followed when I saw Lyra run," Lupin said, "Didn't even see Black myself."

"Little preoccupied chasing dementors out of my pub," Abe added.

Scrimgeour muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Useless". He rubbed his face again, then turned to the headmaster.

"We'll be in touch, Dumbledore," he said, "Come on, Shacklebolt," he turned abruptly, and walked out.

Shacklebolt took a moment to put notebook and pen away, gave a wave and a small smile, and followed.

"Well," said Lyra, dryly, "That went rather well."

In a mandatory staff meeting the next day, Minerva informed them that security would be tightening considerably.

"The Fat Lady has agreed to return to her post, on the condition of extra security. The Headmaster is currently contacting a private company," she said.

"Ohh, what kind of security?" Charity asked, much too brightly.

Minerva fixed her with a withering stare, "Trolls."

Charity's face blanched, "Oh. Right, then."

"They will exclusively patrol the corridor to the Gryffindor common room - if you find them outside there, please inform me," Minerva continued, "Next, it seems the dementors are becoming somewhat restless patrolling the grounds. The Headmaster has also reached out to the Ministry about removing them prematurely, but it may not happen quickly. Keep extra vigilant when you are outside the castle."

"On the other hand, one of us offing it to dementors might make them change their mind," someone - Vector? - muttered from behind Lyra..

Lyra frowned, and shook her head.

The next bit of news was that a Healer specializing in psychology would be in the infirmary for the next few weeks, in case any of the staff or students showed signs of distress from the events. It was definitely a step up from how the Halloween incident was handled, and Lyra was glad of it. Maybe Lee Jordan wouldn't poison himself with a poorly made potion this time.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that, and Lyra caught Lupin before he could sneak out with the crowd.

"You owe me a conversation," she said quietly, waving Charity out the door of the staff room.

Lupin gave a tired sigh, "I suppose I do. My office alright? I've got a nogtail that needs feeding."

"A what?"

"Nogtail. You'll see," Lupin gestured for Lyra to follow.

Lupin's office was dominated by a large tank in which a pig-like creature lay sleeping. It had dark bristly fur, eerily long legs, and was about the size of a small piglet.

"What did you say that was?" Lyra asked in horrid fascination.

"A nogtail. They sneak into pig stys and curse farms," Lupin said, "I wanted a visual for a talk on curses and the nogtail curse is rather simple to break," he crossed the room and pulled a bag of pig feed out of a cabinet. The nogtail watched his movements with narrow eyes that glittered in anticipation.

"How do you break a nogtail curse?"

"Chase it off the farm with a pure white dog," Lupin flashed a grin, "Easy, right?"

"Oh yes, let me pull out my Pyrenean mountain dog I keep on me for such purposes," Lyra snorted.

"There's actually evidence that's why certain livestock guardian breeds are white - to drive off nogtails. Muggles have their own theory about the color of course, but early records…" he trailed off, and shook his head, "Sorry, not why you're here."

The nogtail fed, Lupin settled down behind his worn desk and fixed Lyra with an unreadable expression.

"Before I answer your questions - and I will answer them," he said, "I have a question of my own. What happened to that dementor?"

Lyra frowned, "I have a theory but I don't want to discuss it until I run something by someone else."

"Could I get a hint?"

Lyra paused, and then chose her words carefully, "A few years ago, I was on a project that looked at the effect of spell casting under certain circumstances. The results of that were very similar in effect to what I saw last night. I don't want to assume anything else until I can get confirmation of that."

"That is… maddeningly vague," Lupin said.

"I have learned it is usually best to be vague until you are certain of things when it comes to theories like this one."

"Is that supposed to make me less intrigued?"

"No, that's supposed to make you leave it alone. I don't discuss theories that involve ministry research."

Lupin frowned, "But it sounds like - looked like - it could be big - dementors don't just rip apart, it's just not what happens."

Lyra held up her hands, "I'm not comfortable -"

"If you invented a spell, or modified another, then surely -"

"Lupin," Lyra said, her voice raised slightly, "I am not discussing the dementor."

Lupin opened his mouth to continue arguing, but shut it quickly at her look, "Right," he said, "Sorry."

There was a brief silence while he fiddled with a stack of papers on his desk. Lyra gave him a moment to mentally switch topics by asking an easy question.

"Any luck getting that map from Potter?" She'd filled him in on her conversation with the Weasley's a few weeks prior, and Lupin had promised to talk to Potter during one of their private lessons.

"No, but I'm working on it," he said, "It's not exactly the kind of thing you bring up in casual conversation - 'Oh by the way, Harry, do you happen to have a map that shows you the castle and everyone in it?' I'm his professor, not his confidant."

"You might be surprised," Lyra said, "Besides, with the events of last night, he might be more willing to talk about it."

"I'll take that into consideration, thanks," the response was tight.

"You're defensive."

Lupin laughed humorlessly, "Of course I'm defensive, I'm waiting for you to ask me questions I've only asked myself a hundred times and I still don't have a good answer for."

"When did you know -"

"Sirius, James, and Peter became animagi in our fifth year. Werewolves can only turn humans in their, well, human form, so as animals they were safer than they'd otherwise be. They were able to keep me company - this was before the invention of the Wolfsbane potion - and keep me in check, so to speak"

"That is -"

"Incredibly stupid? Irresponsible?"

"I was going to say audacious, but I suppose it was also stupid and irresponsible. You were fifteen, though, so it is somewhat excusable," Lyra said.

"Audacious. Yes, I suppose it was audacious. So I've known since fifth year. All along, and I haven't told anyone that he can turn into a big black dog at will," Lupin gave another bitter laugh, "I suppose it's just been a secret so long I don't know how to tell it."

"At Halloween, when we ran into that tunnel, that dog was Sirius the entire time?"

"Yes. I told him to leave."

Lyra frowned. She couldn't blame Lupin for his actions at Halloween, not anymore, and she wasn't sure if she ever really had. It wasn't like she would have done anything different, having had to make the same decision herself. It wasn't even that he'd lied to her, because she could understand that as well. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she felt the way she did, or even quite what she was feeling.

"I'm sorry," Lupin said quietly.

A wave of tiredness washed over Lyra and she sank back in the chair shaking her head, "Don't be," she said, "I understand."

He gave her a long look, then nodded, "I suppose you do."

A silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft grunts of the nogtail snuffling into a pile of straw.

"That's where the nicknames came from," Lyra said, the thought occurring to her suddenly, "those stupid nicknames - Dogfeet and MoonMoon, or whatever?"

A ghost of a genuine smile crossed Lupin's face, "Padfoot," he said, "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. I was Moony, Peter was Wormtail, James was Prongs, and Sirius was Padfoot."

"Right, I knew it was something like that. Merlin, who came up with those? They're terrible."

"James, for the most part," Lupin said, "He fancied himself the creative one."

"Poor Pettigrew, it's a wonder he hung out with you all, with a nickname like Wormtail."

"Believe it or not, he came up with that one himself. James had come up with Whiskers, but Peter said he'd rather be Wormtail, and that's the one that stuck."

Lyra snorted, "Because Whiskers is so much better."

"Lyra," Lupin said, turning serious, "Sirius is after something, and I don't think he's got it yet."

"You think he'll come back and try again," it was not a question.

"I know he will. He's stubborn like that."

"I'll be ready when he does," Lyra said, "Whatever he's after, I'll be waiting."

Lupin leaned forward, "What if it's not a thing, what if it's a person? A student?"

"Potter?"

"We have to consider it," he swallowed.

"As I said. I'll be waiting."

Croaker,

What do you know about travel and spell recasting? In particular, shield spells and the Patronus charm? I thought our tests three years ago gave some evidence that recasting while traveling doubled the number of the cast forms in certain cases, but we passed that work off to Bode and Smith before too much experimentation. I might have evidence of doubling power rather than number, but I'd need to check the notes from those tests, and right now the Ministry is as likely to give me a tissue as they are to grant me access to those notes. Let me know what you find.

Lyra