Dear Mum and Dad, Ron wrote, and then stopped and sucked on the end of his quill. It shouldn't be this hard to write to them – he did every week or two – but this letter was different. This letter wasn't that Snape was a git, and that yes, he'd got their last letter, and yes, he was taking care of Ginny, and yes, he'd ask Fred and George to write, and yes, he was managing to keep up with his homework. This letter was the sort of letter than Percy would write.

This was a letter with important news, the sort of letter that had to let them know what was going on – though Ron was sure the school would have already – but had to do so in a way that wouldn't make Mum worry more. Percy was good at that sort of thing.

Except, Percy wasn't in any state to hold a quill, much less write a letter. And Fred and George had gone upstairs, probably to plan some prank or other to help distract themselves – and they didn't often write to Mum and Dad, because it meant being told off for whatever trouble they'd cause most recently – and when Ron had mentioned to Ginny that maybe they should write, he'd only got a blank look in return. She was taking this harder than anyone, he thought.

Ron dropped his quill, and put his head in his hands. He hoped Malfoy was having some luck with his brother and Dobby, and that they'd know where to look for Riddle. He hoped that knowing where to look would help them find him, and that once they found him, they could make him close the Chamber. He hoped that the Mandrakes were ready soon, so that he could have Percy and Hermione back, and that Ginny could have them and Colin, and that maybe she'd cheer up a bit.

None of that was any good for putting into a letter, though. Ron huffed, and then jumped when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. A glance up revealed that the hand was Harry's, and that Harry looked as tired and worried as Ron felt. Harry was working on his own letter, but he'd written as much as Ron; Dear Moony and Tonks had been the only thing on his parchment for at least ten minutes.

The quiet mumble of voices in the common room died as the portrait hole opened, to readmit Malfoy. Ron brightened at the sight of him, and then really looked; Malfoy looked disgruntled. He flopped down onto the couch beside Harry and glowered at the pair of them.

"Went well, did it?" Ron asked, grimacing.

"I made it to the Entrance Hall," Malfoy said peevishly. "And then couldn't get to the dungeons. You should see it; I think about half the Ministry's there, most of the Board, a couple of teachers, and some witch from the Prophet… It's insane-"

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore," Malfoy said, mouth turning down. "The Board moved quickly, from the looks of things. He appointed McGonagall as Headmistress while he's gone, but that's all just formality; the Board'll run the school until they find someone they like better…" Ron's frown was mirrored on Harry and Malfoy's faces. "But they'd all have seen me if I'd gone in, and I thought the school's looking bad enough as it is-"

"No one saw you?"

"I think Severus might have," Malfoy said. "And possibly Dumbledore, but neither of them are likely to say anything, so-"

"Until Snape tells you off for it later," Harry pointed out. Malfoy grimaced. "And what are the Prophet doing here? I'd have thought Dumbledore and the Ministry would be keeping them out of it-"

"Apparently not. Father was talking to the witch when I first got there-" Ron felt bad for Malfoy, really, he did, and grateful for Dad, who, while embarrassing at times, tended to be a decent bloke. "-and then Lockhart was talking to her by the time I left." Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry blew out a breath, apparently frustrated. "I think they took his picture."

"Of course they did," Harry said, shaking his head. "He was supposed to be talking to Myrtle."

"It's been a few hours," Ron said, "maybe he did already?"

"Do you really think that, Weasley?" Malfoy asked.

"No," Ron snorted. "He probably heard the Prophet was coming and spent the morning curling his hair."

"Probably," Harry said, shaking his head. "Well, I say we stop by Myrtle's on the way back from dinner, if McGonagall hasn't. And Draco, you'll have to try to get to Hydrus then."

Tom let out a deep breath of relief, while Ginny's consciousness sat quietly in a corner of her mind, defeated.

"All right, Black?" Wellington asked. The boat rocked slightly as Wellington clambered in, and Sirius tore his eyes off the grey sky to look at the other man.

"Exhausted," Sirius said, rubbing his temples. He'd got back from France in the early hours of the morning, and it felt like he'd just dropped off to sleep when his Sidekick started to burn. Scrimgeour had said something about a breakout in Azkaban, a hostage, that he was needed, and then the Sidekick had gone quiet. Twenty minutes later, he'd stepped off the boat and found Rodolphus Lestrange with a wand at Crouch's throat, in angry negotiation with what was probably the majority of Britain's DMLE, and all Sirius could think was that he was so glad it wasn't Peter.

He, the dementors, and a handful of other Aurors had secured the island while Scrimgeour and Rattler negotiated. Rodolphus had wanted Bellatrix, Rabastan and a boat to take back to the mainland, in exchange for Crouch's safety. Rodolphus had got none of those things; after several hours, Scrimgeour had called in the dementors – figuring if Crouch was going to be harmed, that Rodolphus would have acted already – and Rodolphus had given in.

Sirius was ready to take back everything he'd ever said about wanting a busy, exciting life. If he could have a single week without Harry being put in danger, or a disaster at work, he'd be a happy man.

"Same; Same; I reckon I'm about ready for bed," Wellington said. He yawned, which made Sirius yawn, and the two of them shared tired grins. "Bet poor Florence is feeling it even more, though; she had to deal with Malfoy all day."

"Don't envy her there," Sirius said, and he didn't. Narcissa – while admittedly more pleasant than Bellatrix – could still be a piece of work if she so decided.

"Do you reckon it was her? I mean, Lestrange is her brother in law-"

"If Narcissa was going to try to break anyone out, it would be Bellatrix, not Rodolphus, and she'd have done it years ago," Sirius said. "Besides, they wouldn't have let her go if they thought she was involved. He waved a hand at the steep, stone walkway that wound down the cliff to the boat; at the top, he could discern Narcissa – mostly from her long, silvery hair – being escorted by a small dark-haired figure that he thought was Prewett, and a taller figure that he thought was Brown.

"But Lestrange had to have had help," Wellington said. "You can't get out of the cells without a wand-"

"I did," Sirius said quietly.

Brown looked uncomfortable for a moment – Sirius was sure he'd forgotten, if only temporarily, about Sirius' history with Azkaban – and then said, "Yeah, but you had-"

"Special, dark magic?" Sirius asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Your dog thing," Wellington muttered.

"Padfoot? Nah. Given another year or two, I might have been skinny enough to just slip through the bars, but not then." He could read Wellington's expression easily enough. "It was accidental magic."

"Really?" Brown wrinkled his nose. "Weren't you- like… thirty?"

"Just about," Sirius said, amused. "And pretty… erm… worked up, I suppose."

"Lestrange seemed calm," Wellington said.

"He did," Sirius agreed. Sirius had never known Rodolphus to be an overly expressive person, and he didn't think it was because Rodolphus was good at hiding his feelings; Sirius genuinely thought there wasn't much more to him than what was there to see on the surface. It made him a poor candidate for accidental magic.

"So he must have had help?" Wellington said.

"Scrimgeour thinks so," Sirius said, shrugging. "What concerns me most, is why. Why Rodolphus, and why now?" Sirius didn't see how Tom Riddle being loose in Hogwarts could be related to the almost escape of a Death Eater – and two others, if he'd had his way – but he just couldn't believe it was a coincidence.

He wondered what Harry would make of it all, or if it was even right to tell him about it; Harry had quite enough to deal with at the moment, after Tom's visit the day before. Sirius had tried to get him that morning through the mirror to make sure he'd recovered from Riddle's visit, but Harry hadn't answered, and Sirius hoped it was just because he'd slept in. He'd have to try to get him again after dinner.

Prewett, Brown and Narcissa climbed into the boat, disrupting Sirius' line of thought; Narcissa looked at Ben's robes, then at Prewett's rather unimpressed expression, and took the seat beside Sirius, all without uttering a word. Prewett sat with Wellington, and the pair of them put their heads together, and Brown stared at Crouch, who'd just reached the beach.

He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and looked rather grim as he boarded. Sirius almost groaned when he took the seat on Sirius' other side.

"All right, sir?" Brown asked. Crouch glanced at him and nodded once, slowly, then turned to Sirius.

"Has there been news from Hogwarts?"

"Don't know," Sirius said tersely. "I've been here all day, haven't I?"

"But before that," Crouch pressed. "Was there news?"

"Mr Crouch," Prewett said, before Sirius could say anything. "After the day you've had, I think you've earned the right to not worry about other wizarding affairs for a few hours, at least."

Not that it's any of your business anyway, Sirius couldn't help but add silently. If Wellington's scent was anything to go by, he was having similar thoughts.

"Yes, it's- well, yes, been a long day." Crouch cleared his throat. "Thought I might try to think about other things for a moment… distract myself… but if no one's going to be forthcoming, I suppose I'll just sit quietly, shall I?"

Sirius was sure Crouch was hoping to make one of them protest and start talking, but all that followed was silence. Crouch huffed as Rattler sat down, and the boat glided away from the beach.

THE HERO OF HOGWARTS

The removal of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore from Hogwarts School this afternoon (for statements from the Board of Governors about their decision, see page 5) has been greeted equally by relief and concern. Thankfully, Mr Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin Third Class, and current Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts remains to watch over the next generation of witches and wizards.

"The Headmaster's a talented wizard," Gilderoy said this afternoon, "but he just doesn't have the same experience I do and I – not wanting to show him up – let him handle the investigation, but that just can't happen anymore; five students and one of the staff were attacked last night, and Dumbledore's just not the man to stop that." Mr Lockhart was overcome with tears at this stage in the interview, his emotion plain to see, but he apologised and pressed boldly on. "I just can't help but feel responsible, in a way; if I'd taken charge earlier, then perhaps those students would still be up and about right now. I'm just glad none of the attacks have been fatal… I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if they had been."

Mr Lockhart said he was sad to see the Headmaster go, but also that he thought it was for the best because it would allow him the freedom to conduct his own investigation without well-meaning interruptions. "I haven't been idle," Mr Lockhart added. "While I haven't been able to resolve this situation, I've still gathered a lot of information about the Chamber of Secrets, the Heir, and the monster." Older members of the wizarding public may remember the Chamber's opening fifty years ago, which closed eventually, but was never resolved, and still remains a mystery.

When pressed for a statement about the information he has at this stage in his investigation, Mr Lockhart was reluctant to share, but then relented; "I can't bear to see you so worried, so know this; the Heir's name isn't one I'm prepared to say - if you get my meaning – and, while he is considered a dangerous opponent, he's never dealt with my like before, and I think he'll find I'm just as formidable. Hagrid's been taken into Ministry custody as a suspect, and I think the Heir will struggle without his help; as soon as I find out where he's hiding, I'll have him, and I'm confident that in a week, this will all just be a bad memory."

Sirius finished reading, tossed the paper down onto the table and stood so quickly the bench toppled backward. Kreacher – who was at the stove – looked up, and Sirius could feel eyes on him as he got up.

"I'm going to Hogwarts," he said, heading for the Floo powder on the mantel. Six attacks in a night, Dumbledore gone, Hagrid a suspect, and Lockhart the 'Hero of Hogwarts'… Sirius wasn't sure what he could do at the school without Dumbledore there – Lucius Malfoy and the other members of the Board probably wouldn't want him involved – but Harry was there and Sirius had to do something. He'd tried to get Harry through the mirror when he got home and had put the lack of response down to Harry being at dinner or Quidditch. Six attacks…

Sirius was sure someone would have let him know if Harry had been attacked, and if not, was sure that it would have made the paper – given that Harry was easily as much of a public figure as Lockhart – but he couldn't actually be sure, not until he could see Harry, could talk to him. Sirius grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and lit a fire in the grate with his wand.

The doorbell chimed through the house, just as Sirius was about to throw the powder in. Some of the powder slipped through his hands and onto his shoes.

"Was Master expecting anyone?" Kreacher asked, turning away from the stove.

"No," Sirius said slowly, frowning. Marlene would have just Flooed in, as would Remus or Dora, and not many other people knew where the house was; Snape, Matt and Harry's friends and some of Harry's friends' parents were really the only ones that were in on the Fidelius charm. Others, like Mad-Eye and Robards, and Dumbledore probably knew – and certainly knew the postal address outside the Fidelius charm, but weren't in on the Secret and tended to get into contact with Sirius in other ways anyway. Sirius glanced at the fire by his feet, which was just, faintly tinged with green from the dropped powder. "Could you get it please, Kreacher?"

Kreacher bobbed his head and Disapparated. Sirius heard the door open upstairs, and heard, of all people, Dumbledore murmur a greeting. Sirius dropped the powder back into the pot on the mantel and headed upstairs.

"Good evening, Sirius," he said. Dumbledore looked very out of place in the hallway, and his eyes were fixed on Sirius, who lifted an arm and gave it a wave. Dumbledore's eyes followed the movement.

"You can see me?" Sirius asked.

"Harry told me I might find you here," Dumbledore said.

"Oh." Sirius felt a bit silly. "What are you-" Sirius tried to work out a way to ask 'What do you want?' without sounding too rude, and Dumbledore seemed to know what he was thinking.

"To talk, if you have a moment?" Sirius nodded and gestured for Dumbledore to follow him down to the kitchen. "A lot has happened since I saw you last night."

"I saw the paper," Sirius offered.

"I would imagine that's the embellished version," Dumbledore said mildly, "but probably factual at its base." He sat down at the table while Sirius righted the other bench.

"It said you've been removed from the school, and Hagrid's in custody, and there were six attacks-"

"All true."

"And Harry-"

"Was well enough this morning. Or, as well as he could be; Miss Granger was one of the night's victims." The relief Sirius had felt quickly twisted into a rather ill feeling. Dumbledore spied the paper on the table and gestured to it. "May I?" Sirius waved a hand, and Dumbledore picked it up. Sirius couldn't read his expression or decipher his scent all that well, but when he finished reading, he snorted once, softly.

"They're mad to have sent you away," Sirius said, after a moment.

"They're frightened… or most of the Board are. I do believe that Lucius Malfoy simply doesn't like me." Sirius snorted at that.

"Where will you go?" Sirius asked, and for a moment was afraid Dumbledore might ask to stay here; Sirius would say yes, but it would be awkward. Dumbledore would make a very odd housemate.

"I have arranged for a room at the Hog's Head," Dumbledore said, "but I think I ought to make the best of this time; you and Harry gave me a lot to think about when you mentioned horcruxes, and in the interest of finding the one that's troubling us at the moment, I'd first like to see the locket you spoke of, and then I shall be off… back in time, so to speak."

"What?" Sirius asked.

"If Tom really is descended from the Gaunt line, then Tom has an uncle, still alive; Morfin Gaunt is imprisoned in Azkaban for the murders of Mr and Mrs Riddle and their son Tom." Dumbledore gave Sirius a significant look. "Tom Riddle – the one we are dealing with – would have been sixteen or seventeen at the time."

"You think he might know something about the ring?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said. "Or if not, he may know something about the Chamber; he, after all, is descended from the Slytherin line, and Tom has to have learned about the Chamber from somewhere."

He set the paper down, and smiled; he'd been right! The Dark Lord was at Hogwarts, and now it was just a matter of making contact. Finally. After weeks of clutching at straws and getting nowhere… finally, finally, finally. He couldn't help but laugh.

A squeak and footsteps made him look up, and he frowned.

"I thought I told you to go to bed." The two looks he got in return couldn't have been more different; one, was of utter loathing, and he revelled in it. The other was scared and apologetic. "Well? Off you go. Sleep," he added, to be sure there were no loopholes in the command. "Until morning." One could never be too careful with loopholes. They'd given him his freedom, after all… well, loopholes and a purpose had, anyway. "And I'd like you to tell me if he wakes," he added. "He's not to leave the house, and neither are you, without my leave."

The pair of them left, and he was alone with the paper and his comfortable chair, and the warmth of the fire.

"So," he murmured to himself. "Off to Hogwarts I go, then."