Author's Notes: I'm so reminded of the tale of Blue Beard from writing this chapter. Spooky. And Harry is off to Hogwarts yay!
Three weeks later, Harry rolled up the last of his homework he'd needed to complete and put it into his trunk. With a dreary sigh, he stood up stretching his arms up over his head as he looked through the window. Snape had left just that morning, saying that he had to prepare for the fast approaching school term. Nanua was under express orders not to let Harry out of the house. Dobby, of course, had offered to hatch several different, doomed-to-fail schemes to get him outside. Harry had politely declined each time, neither wanting to be kidnapped by his still-at-large godfather nor willing to face Snape's wrath when he found out that Harry had disobeyed him.
Leaning his hands against the windowsill, Harry took a deep breath of the fresh air blowing in gently through the open window. His mind alighted, drifting off to the pleasant thought of flying on his broomstick. Harry sorely missed doing that. It was rather unfortunate that an untrusting Snape had confiscated his Nimbus Two Thousand… Then again, Harry wasn't entirely sure he would have been able to resist the temptation of riding the golden-hued broom. He absolutely loved broomstick flying. At least, Slytherin's letter opener had been returned to him. Harry had been a mite panicked when he realized he had left it at Longbottom Manor.
There was a timid knock on his bedroom door. Harry pushed off and went across the creaky floor to open it.
Dobby looked up at him. "Dobby is sorry to be disturbing Master Harry," he squeaked, clutching his fingers together, "But Dobby senses that Master Harry is terribly bored and lonely, sir."
"Oh," Harry said, blinking down at the house-elf. "I'm not giving you permission to enter my room, Dobby."
Dobby's large face split into a grin. "Nothing is getting past Master Harry," he said proudly. "Dobby thought Master Harry might want to explore the attic?" The house-elf's green eyes gleamed mischievously.
They both knew very well that when Harry's guardian had found him snooping around last summer that Snape had locked the ceiling entrance to the attic with a spell that Harry couldn't unlock whilst Underaged and expressly forbade both house-elves from undoing his magical lock.
"You know I do," Harry said, crouching to be at Dobby's eye-level. "Have you found a different way in yet?"
With an excited squeal, Dobby nodded vigorously and stamped his feet happily. He stretched one of his curled arms and pointed down the dead-end corridor that Harry had traveled down only once before. "Dobby found one…" He leaned forward, and with a hushed whisper said, "It is in Master Snape's bedroom. The closet has an entrance like the one above those stairs, Master Harry." Dobby pointed at the slanted ceiling where the narrow access door was.
Straightening, Harry ventured to the very end of the hall, but there didn't seem to be anything remotely interesting about the wall-papered wall with a dado about Dobby's height painted a light cream. "How do I get in?"
Dobby bounced and pointed at the gas lantern and then soundly smacked himself in the face with the flat of his palm. "Bad Dobby, bad!"
"I told you not to punish yourself," Harry said.
"Sorry, sir…" Dobby's ears wilted, one twisted in each of his skinny hands. "Master Harry's wand—" When Dobby was having the worst trouble speaking any further, Harry knew that Snape must have forbade the house-elf from revealing this secret.
"That's enough, Dobby." Harry pulled out his wand and gave the gas lantern a quick tap. Immediately the illusion of a wall faded away. Harry reached forward and grasped the black doorknob. Twisting his wrist, he was surprised when it opened without any resistance. Inside, it was very dark; all the windows were covered with heavy curtains. Shelves upon shelves of books covered the walls from the floor to the ceiling, wherever Harry looked. An enormous four-poster bed stood in the very center of the room without any hanging curtains on it. Harry stepped in, noticing that Dobby remained outside the doorway. "His closet?" Harry asked when he didn't see a door.
"By the chest of drawers there is a set of poetry books, five shelves up from the floor, sir."
Harry approached the nearly-black wooden dresser and counted. He read the spines that had Great Poets of the Twentieth Century written on them with volume numbers, "I've found them."
"Pull on the spine of the leftmost one, Master Harry," Dobby said uneasily.
Grabbing it and tugging, Harry had to jump back when the bookshelf swung out. In the dim light, he saw a length of rope hanging from the dark ceiling. He reached forward and tugged it down. Immediately a ladder unfolded without any extra effort on Harry's part. "I got it—" Harry turned and saw that the door into Snape's bedroom had closed. For a moment, Harry panicked.
"Psst! Master Harry! Come, come, before we're caught!" Dobby's voice said from above.
Harry quickly climbed the steps and entered the attic. As soon as both feet were flat on the floor, the ladder refolded itself with a clack shrouding Harry in complete darkness.
From the sound of the floor, Dobby was bouncing excitedly from foot-to-foot. "Dobby found this entrance, sir!"
"Good work," Harry said as he looked around blindly. "Can we get more light in here? I can't see anything."
At the snap of fingers, very thick curtains opened up all around them, unleashing clouds of house dust. Harry sneezed violently. Dobby snapped his fingers again, and the air cleared and freshened itself. "Better, Master Harry?"
"Yes," he said, eyes still watering. He blinked as he looked around, recognizing the tall, slanted walls. Was this the same attic? It was much too large… and there was less Muggle junk. There were white sheets covering everything and on top of them greyish brown blankets of dust. Harry walked up to a linen shrouding something that was as high as his waist and yanked it off. A large very comfortable couch was revealed. Harry stared at it.
"Oh, Dobby will do the rest, right away, sir!" With a clap of the house-elf's hands, the rest of the linen sheets were removed, causing dust to swirl out everywhere. Harry covered his mouth and nose with a sleeve of his robes.
Another clap and with a roll of thunder a large gust of air breezed through and the windows flew open, depositing the dust outside.
Harry lowered his arms. They were in sort of a sitting room, except there was a small daybed on the second level and a full-length mirror tucked in the corner.
"Well, did Dobby do a good job, sir?"
"Yes. Thank you," Harry said with a faraway distracted tone. He only distantly recognized that Dobby had disappeared with a pop.
There was a large wardrobe, trunk, and chest of drawers. Harry couldn't resist opening them. There were clothes, shirts and slacks in the dresser, cloaks and different-colored robes in the wardrobe. He knelt by the old school trunk stamped with a faded Slytherin crest and lifted the lid. There were so many dried flowers pinned to the top of it that the cloth lining could hardly be seen. There were random bits of wood, pebbles, and an assortment of other knickknacks that Harry didn't know why anyone—especially Snape—would want to keep them. In the corner there was a large stack of what looked to be letters wrapped in twine.
Harry pulled the stack out, closing the trunk lid. Untying the twine, he lifted the first envelope which was addressed to the exact house in which Harry currently resided in the same script that a Dictus Quill wrote. He opened it and pulled out a letter. With a frown, Harry read an exclusive offer for a special magical item that could be his today if he responded by the time the offer expired, which was in the last month of 1979. Carefully folding and putting the letter into the envelope, Harry flipped through the rest of the stack seeing the same quill-script in different inks on the remaining envelopes. His confusion grew exponentially. It was a stack of junk mail; why would Snape keep that?
It was too much of a mystery to pass up. Harry re-tied the twine and stuck the stack of letters into his robes. Snape wouldn't know it was missing if the state the room had been in was anything to go by.
Not seeing anything else to dig through, Harry walked towards the two steps that would take him up to the area that resembled a bedroom. Clutching the railing, he was amazed at the intricate carving etched into the wooden supports and all over the wooden flooring. Why would Snape keep this room locked away?
"Hello, darling. Who might you be?" A feminine voice called out.
Harry looked sharply around but didn't see anyone.
"The mirror, darling."
Drawing his wand, he suspiciously inched towards the full-length mirror. Straight down its front, there was a very large crack in its shiny surface.
"Ah, I haven't had any company besides the occasional bird for awhile. I thought I might've been forgotten," his mirror image said.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, unnerved when his mirror image didn't show his lips move.
The Harry in the mirror smiled. "I'm not a who, I'm a what, darling. Now stand up straight and keep your head up!"
Harry blinked dumbly at the Enchanted Object. "What?"
"You're slouching…" The mirror responded as if this were obvious.
He straightened his shoulders hesitantly. "Like this?"
"Yes! My, you look handsome, don't you? Now, chin up. There you are, darling."
The moment he tilted his head back, Harry felt his back lengthen into a less cramped position.
"Very good!" His mirror-self cried, "You'll be a Prince yet!"
Harry frowned at the mirror for he recognized the family name. "Do you belong to a man called Severus Snape?"
"Oh, well," his mirror self said, "Who I belong to is a bit complicated. Technically, not at the present though I used to. Does that make sense?"
"Not really." He leaned closer to the mirror, peering at its surface.
"Your eyes…" His mirror self said gently.
He jerked back. "What about them?"
"They're very nice, aren't they? When you aren't pinching them together like that, darling."
Relaxing his eyebrows, Harry put his wand away and took a seat on the bed. "Why've you got a crack on yourself?"
"Shoulders back, chin up. It's not that difficult, is it?"
Harry immediately corrected his posture to the glowing praise of the lovely-sounding mirror. "The crack?"
"Severus wasn't able to fix me completely," the mirror said sadly and then sighed. "I rather miss his handsome profile."
"Handsome?" Harry said, unable to stem his incredulity. That was the exact opposite of what he would've used to describe his guardian.
"Very Roman features he has, yes, and fetching with his slightly sun-kissed skin and flowing tresses?"
"Er… No." Harry wondered if they were talking about the same person. "That doesn't describe him at all."
"I suppose he's fallen back on his old habits. Locks of greasy hair? Pale-as-death complexion? Yellow teeth?"
"Erm… Old habits?"
His reflection sighed. "I'm right, aren't I? About his appearance?"
"…Yes…"
"How disappointing," came the exasperated response, "An entire year of hard work wasted."
"But he's always looked like that."
"He has?" His reflection looked around the room. "Out of curiosity, what's the date?"
"August 25th."
"Of 1982...?"
"Er, no. 1993..."
"Oh, no. I have lost track of time. The last time I spoke to Severus was October 26th, 1981. Dear me. I wonder what happened?" Harry's reflection smiled warmly at him. "I suppose with your messy hair that you're related to the Potters?"
"Yes. I'm Harry Potter."
"Ah, yes… James and Lilly Potter's son. How are they?"
Harry felt a shot of pain, and he looked down. "They're dead… Murdered by Volde—"
"Don't say his name!" The mirror hissed. "You'll bring the Dark Lord's supporters down on our heads!"
Startled, Harry met his reflection's concerned green eyes. "What?"
"You're thirteen and no one's told you about Taboo Magic?"
"I—uh, Vol—er… You-Know-Who's dead."
"Dead?" The mirror sounded doubtful.
"Well…" Harry grimaced. "Sort of. His spirit's tried to kill me twice already. He's angry because his Killing Curse failed to kill me when I was a baby and destroyed his body instead."
His reflection stared at him and then those bottle-green eyes looked up at the unsightly scar on Harry's forehead. "You said… Lily and James Potter… are dead?"
"Murdered, yes. Did you know them?"
"I was a wedding gift to them… Well, until James threw me out. He accused me of feeding secrets to the Dark Lord. Myself, I think he was looking for an excuse since I made Lily smile."
"Ah, it was Professor Snape who gave you to them, then?"
"Yes, he did."
"Could you… tell me about them? My parents, I mean?" Harry laid on his stomach onto the bed, holding his chin up with his hands.
"My favorite was Lily of course. Radiant and beautiful, she was very kind-hearted. Before I was gifted to her, she didn't have much self-confidence. Didn't think she was very pretty or useful. She was the sort of witch who liked to do things, darling, but as a Potter wife she was expected to stay home and raise children."
"She wasn't happy she had me?" Harry was sick at the thought.
"Don't even think that! Your mother adored you, loved every moment she had with you. She would sing you lullabies and conjure the most beautiful things to get you to giggle. You were a delightful toddler. I never saw or heard you ever throw a tantrum."
"What about my dad?"
"He was alright, I suppose. He played with you when he wasn't out working as an Auror."
Harry waited for the mirror to say more, but when it didn't he prompted, "He loved me right?"
"You're his firstborn son. Of course, he did."
"Well, tell me about him then."
"He was an insufferable, conceited twit, who was incredibly vain and extremely possessive."
"You're just saying that because he and Professor Snape were enemies," Harry said lightly. "Come on, tell me what he was really like." Harry had never seen his cheek twitch involuntarily before. "I mean, everyone says my dad was a great man and was brilliant at flying the broomstick."
"Yes, everyone said James and Lily made the perfect couple. James was very attractive and charismatic. He could charm a Golden Snidget right out of its nest, if he wanted. No easy task," his reflection said, still not looking very happy to say it.
"Master Harry," a smooth, matronly voice said behind him.
Harry rolled over off the bed to drop swiftly to his feet. "Nanua!"
"You are not supposed to be in here," the house-elf said sternly.
"I… er… you're right." Harry looked abashed.
"Come, Master Harry, dinner's about to be served." She held a hand out to him.
"Remember, shoulders out, chin up, Harry!" The mirror chirped brightly.
"Bye," Harry said to it.
"Take care, darling."
Harry took hold of Nanua's hand. With a snap, she Apparated them to the dining room. He was surprised when he hardly felt sick. He took a seat where a plate waited for him.
"I have added more security features to Master Snape's bedroom. I shall know if you tamper with them, Master Harry."
"I won't," Harry said. He'd have to ask his guardian later if he might have the mirror, perhaps when he wasn't technically banned from the attic. He liked hearing about his parents.
On September First, Harry leaned heavily against a wall in an out-of-the-way nook at the end of the terminals at King's Cross. Behind Harry, Hedwig squawked her discomfort. He would have preferred to transport her in a different manner, but Harry had learned last year the value of keeping his owl nearby while traveling. "You'd think that'd get easier the more you do it," he said through a watery belch. He was not fond of Apparation, not one bit, especially since he'd had to keep both of the Lionsnakes firmly in his mind whilst he was being squeezed through something incredibly small.
Not having moved from where he blocked the only exit from the niche they were in, Snape scowled down his nose at him. "What creature have you brought with you?" His lanky frame was rigid.
Harry immediately began to think of Quidditch the moment Snape grew menacing. "Why should I? You'll just kill whatever I have," he said indignantly.
"If my first reaction is to kill it, then it should be dead and a thirteen-year-old shouldn't be foolishly attempting to smuggle it into Hogwarts where the wards will eviscerate it regardless. Now," he growled lowly, taking out his wand, "Reveal it."
Harry blinked. He had no idea that Hogwarts' wards could do that… which might explain why the dangerous creatures of the Forbidden Forest didn't sneak into the castle and feast on the magical folk within. "Don't kill them outright okay? I promised them safe passage."
Harry's guardian grimaced. He looked even warier.
Harry hissed a light command for Lucy. He lifted his sleeve, and the small Lionsnake revealed herself in a defensive, protective posture.
Snape's face blanched, his eyes widening slightly. "Where did you get her?"
Harry whispered lightly, and she lay down docilely on his arm still quite visible. "The Longbottoms' Forest. There was a nest of Lionsnakes and the Matriarch, June, wouldn't let us through until I accepted these two." Harry had read all about them from Nott's book and had to look up what a matriarchy was to understand the two snakes better.
Harry's guardian stared at Lucy, and then a thought seemed to occur to him and his eyes shot to Harry's. "You have a male as well?" Not once did his wand waver even slightly from the snake.
"Yes. This is Lucy and the other's Sam. He's more skittish." Harry lifted up the other sleeve and whispered more gently to encourage the other to reveal himself. The second snake became visible, but was coiled around Harry's arm like a bracer.
Snape took a quiet step back, his wand disappearing into the folds of his robes. "I will speak with the headmaster," He stated, obviously disliking the idea. "You will have to obtain his permission to allow them to establish Hogwarts as their territory, which I doubt he will deny." His lip had curled up in disgust. If the headmaster had allowed a Cereberus into Hogwarts, Harry didn't think he'd mind a pair of Opalescent Lionsnakes.
Harry hissed to them quietly again and the snakes shimmered and disappeared. He then covered them with his sleeves. "Thank you. I can tell them that the students' dormitories are off-limits if you're worried about that."
"No," the Potions Master drawled, "the dormitories would be the most ideal location to start." He looked around and then stepped out into the bustling walkway, heading toward the platform.
Though puzzled at that statement, Harry followed the much taller adult without another word exchanged, pulling his trunk and carrying the occupied owl cage. Soon enough Professor Snape and Harry arrived at platforms nine and ten. Harry saw no other Hogwarts students, but then he didn't expect to when it was nearly two hours—an hour and thirty-eight minutes early to be exact—before Hogwarts Express departed. Harry's guardian paused at the barrier between the platforms. Once Harry leaned into the brick wall, Snape imitated the movement so that they traveled through the solid metal divider and arrived at Platform nine-and-three-quarters at the same time. Harry looked up to see the scarlet steam engine, Hogwarts Express. Only a little smoke escaped its stack over the smattering of wizards and witches seeing their children onto the train.
"Well, see you later," Harry said turning towards the carriages that held the luggage. He was unsurprised not to hear a farewell over his shoulder. Professor Snape had yet to say goodbye in any form to Harry in the three years he'd known him. As he walked to the train, Harry tried to be friendly to the other students, but for some reason they gave him a frightful look and ducked away from him.
Harry smothered the irritation he felt. Last year had been particularly disastrous for his reputation. Everyone had thought he'd set a basilisk on Muggle-born students because he could speak Parseltongue, the language of snakes. They'd been wrong of course, and when Harry had been given credit for slaying the basilisk and rescuing a first-year Gryffindor five different Harry Potter fan clubs had spontaneously formed… But maybe nasty rumors hadn't ceased about him… Speaking Parseltongue wasn't something good wizards were known for.
Anticipating his trip to Hogwarts, Harry loaded his trunk onto the luggage carriage. He climbed in after the trunk to stow it and Hedwig properly. He took a deep breath. It was freedom of sorts. He'd be able to travel anywhere on the platform and up and down the train carriages as much as he liked without his every movement being closely watched. The Lionsnakes hissed curiously, but Harry knew it was not safe yet to answer them where anyone could overhear him.
He nearly bumped into Professor Snape on the way out of the carriage. His dream of not being dogged at every turn died as he blinked owlishly at the man. It dawned on Harry then that Professor Snape had been the one frightening the other students, not Harry. "I thought you had to get to Hogwarts early?"
"Idiot boy. Do you really think it's safe for you to be left unsupervised?"
Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Harry let out a sigh. "I'm not completely useless."
"I beg to differ."
Harry scowled, knowing the Potions Master had a point. Harry had escaped Voldemort three times only with help. The first two times because of his mother's protection, and the last directly because of Snape's interference. Irritated, Harry walked into the compartment carriage. He idly wondered if the Potions Master was going to babysit him the entire trip to Hogwarts as he slid the nearest door open.
There was already an occupant inside, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry had never seen an adult take the Hogwarts Express before. Deciding he ought to take a different compartment, he backed up, right into Professor Snape. His guardian looked down his nose at him and said with disgust, "Sit down. Professor Lupin will ensure your safety."
"Who? Him? But he's sleeping," Harry said gazing curiously at the adult again. The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though his face looked young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey.
Harry was shoved forward. "You will remain here until you arrive at Hogwarts." Before he could respond, the compartment door was slid shut. After a final stern look through the glass promising unpleasant consequences should he be disobeyed, Professor Snape left.
While the Lionsnakes squirmed quietly around Harry's forearms beneath his accommodating robe sleeves, he sighed and sat down. He was surprised that Snape would entrust his safety to a complete stranger, until Harry deduced which subject Professor Lupin taught. There was only one teaching position that was open and rumored to be jinxed: Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape wouldn't have left Harry with the wizard if he was incompetent like the previous two DADA professors had been… He closed his eyes.
The door slid open noisily. "Harry! Oh," Neville's voice floated to him. Harry had started awake, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry to wake you, Harry. Can I sit with you?" Neville had his toad, Trevor, in his hand.
Nodding, Harry lifted a finger to his lips and looked towards the professor.
"Oh," Neville said with a more hushed tone. The round-faced boy stepped in shutting the door behind him. He sat next to Harry. "Who's he?"
"Professor Lupin," Harry said. Looking curiously out the window, he noticed that the platform was much busier. He wondered how long he had dozed.
"He doesn't look so well, does he?" Neville asked in a whisper.
Harry inwardly agreed. At least the invisible snakes had stopped squirming.
The compartment door opened and a girl of average height with plain brown hair and glasses peered in. Seeing the professor sleeping in the corner, Sally-Anne Perks lowered her voice. "Am I allowed to sit with you?"
"Of course," Harry said.
Sally-Anne shut the door and sat on the edge of the cushion across from Neville. "Scary how someone escaped Azkaban, isn't it?" She looked as if she'd wanted to talk about the break-out for a while. Harry thought she might have abstained during his birthday party out of politeness and also thought it was strange that she wouldn't pen her worries in her letters to him.
Neville made a small whimper. "Scary's an understatement."
"I hope they catch Black. He's a menace," Sally-Anne said darkly.
Harry had no intention of letting Sirius Black get caught by the authorities before he had his chance to talk to the madman. If Black was so desperate to see him, Harry might be able to glean information from him about Voldemort's other supporters. One thing he learned from his studies was that knowledge was power, and the power of knowing his enemies like a longtime friend might help him survive other attempts. Obviously, he couldn't ask Snape outright; the wizard thought he was incapable of making sound decisions in regards to his safety. In addition, any books on Voldemort's supporters would only have information on the known supporters that had been caught and sentenced.
A tense sort of silence filled the compartment long enough that Sally-Anne spoke again. "Well," she continued, "I can't wait to visit Hogsmeade this year. I've never been. I heard there are these marvelous shops, and the most severely haunted building in all of Britain, the Shrieking Shack, is there."
"Yeah, there's this amazing sweetshop called Honeydukes. They've got Pepper Imps and Cockroach Crunchies and Butterscotch Gargles and Sugar Quills—" Harry recounted.
Neville interrupted, "—And massive Chocoballs full of strawberry filling and clotted cream that make you cluck and Sherbert Balls that make you levitate while you suck them and—"
"Sounds nice," Sally-Anne said abruptly. "I'm more interested in the Shrieking Shack. Have either of you seen it?"
"I've never heard of it," Harry answered.
The Gryffindor's eyes widened in a comical manner as he shook his head side to side. "I don't like haunted places… especially when they're rumored to have nasty poltergeists like the Shrieking Shack," Neville said breathlessly.
Someone smacked their lips and cleared their throat; Professor Lupin was stirring. They watched him apprehensively, but then the wizard simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.
"But rumor has it that the Shrieking Shack had its heyday in the late seventies. It hasn't been nearly as active since," Sally-Anne said despondently.
"Do you like haunted places?" Harry was curious as she'd never come off as the sort to like spooky things, but then he remembered how she had spoken to Moaning Myrtle last year and it didn't seem so strange.
"Oh, yes. I find ghosts and poltergeists and boggarts all very fascinating. My family has a long history of exorcising Dark spirits and ghosts. Before my father was born, my grandfather was well sought after even by Muggles."
"But I thought that… doesn't that break the Statute of Secrecy?" Neville sounded horrified.
"He was an ordained Catholic priest, just like his father had been and his father's father. Muggles know that priests can exorcise nasty spirits from property or a person. Ergo, it's not breaking any Wizarding laws," Sally-Anne said matter-of-factly.
"Oh," Neville said. He did not look like he knew what a Catholic priest was.
"But you can't be a Catholic priest if you're a girl," Harry said.
She shrugged callously. "I'll pose as a Wiccan, then."
"I know what those are. Aren't they Muggles pretending to be witches and wizards?" Neville said with a puzzled frown.
Sally-Anne grinned at the Gryffindor. "Well, Squibs have been known to join such covens, so it's not that strange... It would be a perfect cover, wouldn't you agree?"
Neville looked uncomfortable.
"How much longer until the train starts?" Harry asked them.
They both blinked at him. "I arrived on the platform roundabout ten-thirty," Sally-Anne said. "It must be close now."
Lucy hissed softly, "Boy, we are most parched… Could we have something to drink?"
Harry sighed, hissing on that single exhale an apology and an estimated time to get a drink. They were still hours away from Hogwarts. Before he had Lionsnakes, Harry had never realized how difficult it was being responsible for two totally dependent creatures. He was ready to let them free so he didn't have to worry about them any longer.
"What's the matter? Bored?"
Harry smiled lightly at Neville. "It's nothing.""
The door slid open again and their eyes turned to see Draco Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco eyed the compartment and apparently ascertained that it wouldn't be able to hold all of them. "Longbottom, Perks, Out. I have something to discuss with Harry."
"Neville, sit down," Harry commanded, and the stout Gryffindor slowly lowered himself back onto the seat. "Draco, these seats are first come, first serve. If you want to sit by me so badly, next time come early."
"It's important," Draco said more insistently.
"It can wait. I don't spend all school year in the same dormitory as these two."
Draco turned to the plain-looking Slytherin. "Perks, I'll make this easy for you—" He started with a threatening tone, but Professor Lupin gave a snort. Draco's eyes darted to the adult and he took an automatic step back. "Who's that?" Harry was surprised that he hadn't seen the full-grown wizard before he opened the door.
"New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I expect," Harry stated calmly. He got to his feet. "What were you saying? You'll make what easy for Sally-Anne?"
Draco's eyes narrowed. He wasn't fool enough to pick on students right under a teacher's nose. "We'll talk later, Harry." He turned to Crabbe and Goyle and with a resentful tone told them, "Let's go."
The door slid shut once again, and Harry sat back down.
"This year, I've resolved not to put up with his disrespect. The next time he does that I'm going to challenge him to a duel."
"It does seem to be the only way he respects anyone."
Neville looked between them with a puzzled look. "Duel?"
"Professor Snape holds monthly duels for the Slytherin House to sort out our differences. Only first years aren't allowed to participate," Harry explained.
"And it keeps us sharp since…" Sally-Anne's brown eyes darted to the teacher sleeping soundly near them. "Since we don't have a reliable curriculum on offensive and defensive spellwork."
"I would love to know some spells so Draco wouldn't bully me anymore. You know he stuck my legs together our first year? I had to hop the whole way to the Gryffindor common room," Neville said.
Harry winced. That certainly sounded like something Draco would do.
The train let out a shrill whistle and suddenly shuddered forward. Harry nearly toppled out of the seat. Finally! He thought.
The door slid open again, drawing the trio's attention. "Harry!" Hermione crowed and threw her arms around his neck. "We missed you last Wednesday in Diagon Alley. It's a shame that Professor Snape didn't let you come see us."
Though immensely glad to see her, Harry shushed her and then glanced over his shoulder pointedly. "He's asleep."
His bushy-haired friend from Gryffindor pulled back and with a peculiar expression on her face stared at the adult. Then her eyes flicked around the cabin, and she grinned. "Professor R. J. Lupin."
"How'd you know that?" Ron—who was behind her—and Neville asked in stereo.
She pointed at a battered case in the rack above the man's head. "It's on the side of that." There was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
"I bet he's replaced Lockhart!" Ron said brightly. "I still can't believe that lout tried to use a Memory Charm on me. My mum was so furious that she burned all his books."
Harry nearly choked. She could have sold them for a reasonable amount, and the Weasley family sorely needed the money. "Er, did you get a new… wand?"
"Yes! Look at this!" Ron pulled out a thin box from his robes. He opened it as he spoke. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair." He carefully closed the lid on it and placed it protectively back into his robes. Harry certainly didn't blame him, not when all last year Ron's wand had failed to do the simplest spells. The Gryffindor seemed much friendlier to Harry than he had same time last year.
"You're going to have to use it sometime, Ron," Hermione said with exasperation.
"I'll wait until we have some lessons," he said defensively.
Sally-Anne giggled. "If it were me, I'd spend the entire trip getting used to my new wand."
Startled to see that there was another occupant, Ron shot her a look.
"I've been telling him exactly that, but he won't listen to me," Hermione said airily. "I'm sorry. Have we met before?"
Sally-Anne smiled sadly. "We take Double Potions together."
Hermione frowned. "You're in Slytherin?"
"I'll swear on Sally-Anne's behalf that she's been here since our first year," Harry said solemnly.
"That's right. There's some stupid Slytherin rule about being friendly with other houses, isn't there?" Hermione looked at the two Slytherins.
"Did Harry tell you that?"
Harry shook his head at Sally-Anne's pointed look. He hadn't told Hermione about it.
"Penelope Clearwater told me last year before we were Petrified, and I think Julianne Dresden told her. I think the whole school should know about it now," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
"You were Petrified?" Harry said hollowly.
Everyone turned their eyes on him. Sally-Anne pressed her fingers to her lips. "Oh. That's right, you were sent to the infirmary just as we returned from the canceled Quidditch match. You wouldn't have known at all because by the time you brought Ginny Weasley back those who'd been Petrified had been cured."
"Oh," Harry said dumbly.
"I was in the library when it happened." Hermione smiled. "If Madam Pince hadn't screamed before she'd been Petrified, I wouldn't have thought to bring my mirror out." Hermione turned her attention fully on Sally-Anne. "I'm sorry I didn't remember you. What with Bulstrode's feud and Parkinson and her two cronies acting so rude, I apparently tuned everyone else out."
"I understand," Sally-Anne said and then smiled at the two standing Gryffindors. "Have either of you ever visited Hogsmeade before?"
Ron shook his head. "I heard there's this wicked good joke shop called Zonko's."
Hermione grinned. "Neither have I, but I heard it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain. In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says Hogsmeade has an inn that was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely—"
"Haunted building in Britain," Sally-Anne finished with a broader smile.
"It's nice to know that I'm not the only one who reads for leisure," Hermione said.
"Urgh, reading," Ron said, making a gagging noise.
"Oh, quiet!" Hermione shushed him again when Ron carried on a bit more. She decided to ignore him when he continued making rude noises. "Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?" Hermione looked so happy gazing at all of them that Harry nearly kept his mouth shut.
"You'll have to tell me when you've all gone," Harry said heavily.
Neville frowned. "What d'you mean?"
"I can't go. Professor Snape refused to sign my permission form."
Ron and Neville looked horrified, Ron more so than Neville. "You're not allowed to come?" Ron said incredulously. "But you—Someone's got to be able to sign your permission form! You must be good friends with the headmaster if you gave him a pair of socks. Why don't you ask him?"
Harry laughed though it sounded a bit hollow. "It's okay. I went once for my twelfth birthday. There's this Quidditch shop called Three Hoops that's fantastic."
"Wait… Is Professor Snape still annoyed that you were framed by a house-elf for the use of a Hovering Charm near you last year?" Sally-Anne asked him.
"No. I was already grounded for a month for that; it's because—"
"That greasy git," Ron growled. "It wasn't even your fault!"
"Well, if a house-elf stalked you and then made it look like you destroyed merchandise with magic, you'd've wanted to stay inside too," Harry said reasonably.
"I don't get you, mate," Ron said shaking his head.
"And really, it could have been worse if I had brought my wand."
All four of his fellow students gasped at that.
"That's very dangerous, especially for you, Harry! What were you thinking?" Hermione's hands were propped on her hips.
"Why else do you think Professor Snape grounded me? His exact words were:" Harry made his voice very nasal and nasty, "Perhaps by the time your record is cleared you'll remember you're a famous wizard and not a middling Muggle."
Ron's face was so red with indignation that he looked as if his head would pop off. "That—"
Sally-Anne's sudden laughter shrilly interrupted whatever Ron was about to say. She gasped for breath. "Oh! I feel sorry for Professor Snape. You're always getting into trouble!"
Harry scowled. "Not on purpose."
"Gran says you've survived more attempts on your life than she has and she's nearly seventy-six. Coming from her that's praise."
Harry grimaced at the mention of that woman. Sally-Anne eyed him curiously before Harry took on a more neutral expression.
"I could ask Fred and George to help you out," Ron said heatedly, "They know every secret passage out of the castle—"
Sally-Anne perked at that as did Harry, but Hermione called "Ron!" out very sharply. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose—"
"Yeah, that's exactly the reason Professor Snape implied when I was denied permission to visit Hogsmeade," Harry said dryly.
"But if we're with him," Ron said spiritedly to Hermione, "Black wouldn't dare—"
"Don't talk rubbish! Black's already murdered a bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Harry just because we're there?"
Professor Lupin stirred again; this time a foot moved. The carriage went quiet as they apprehensively watched him.
"We're third years," Sally-Anne whispered solemnly. "We're no match for someone who doesn't think twice about killing others."
Ron huffed as he pulled his squirming rat from his robes. "Let's get back to our compartment, Hermione. Scabbers is restless. I'm worried about his health as it is."
Harry eyed the grey rat. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's been a sluggish ever since I brought him back from Egypt. I showed him to a witch who specializes in magical pets and she thinks it's his old age." He looked towards Harry's curious expression. "Scabbers is twelve. He's been in my family since Charlie found him. If it wasn't for that blasted Kneazle—"
"Well, I'm glad we've had this nice chat, Harry."
Harry nodded towards Hermione. "See you la—"
"I'm not done," Ron exploded.
"Crookshanks is a Kneazle. It's in his nature to chase rats," Hermione mustered in a semi-polite tone.
"Look at him!" The Gryffindor said waving his fat grey rat at her, "He's balding because of that foul beast!"
Choosing not to bother with a response, an annoyed Hermione smiled at the only other Slytherin in the compartment. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sally-Anne."
"Likewise," she said with a short nod.
"I'll see you at the start-of-term banquet?" Hermione asked Neville politely, while Ron continued to vent loudly about Hermione's crotchety orange cat.
"Of course! I've got loads to tell you!"
Ron let out a really aggravated groan at being ignored.
"Are you done?" Hermione finally said, turning to Ron who was clutching Scabbers to his chest protectively.
"Not nearly."
She exhaled loudly, sliding the door open behind her, and dragged a ranting Ron down the corridor.
A minute of silence filled the compartment as they looked at one another, hoping that someone would start up a new topic of conversation. "I'm glad they're gone," Sally-Anne said, "They're worse than my parents."
"Don't tell them that. They'll yell at you for it. They say they're just friends, but I've never met friends like that," Neville said.
"Er, Neville," Harry said slowly.
"What is it?"
"About the feast… If you're going to tell Hermione what I think you are, you really shouldn't tell her, or anyone else for that matter."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a secret no one else knows. So, in case someone tries to impersonate either of us with Polyjuice, then we'll be able to tell." Harry knew that Sally-Anne was watching them with keen perceptiveness. Harry didn't want her or anyone else to know that Black was an Animagus…
"I hadn't thought of that..."
"Besides, the adults will figure it out soon anyway," Harry added. "They're not all stupid."
"I guess not," Neville agreed.
"So you'll promise not to tell?"
"Yeah, I promise."
Harry smiled. After thinking about it more Harry decided it wouldn't be that hard to lure the mass-murderer into a trap and turn him over to the authorities after Harry'd had his chat. After witnessing the man crying out for him, Harry thought he might be able to extract other answers from Sirius Black. Like why had he betrayed his parents? It seemed senseless if Black expected Harry to trust him as his Animagus form appeared to present. Pointless when Black was the reason why Harry's parents were dead. Then again, the dementors in Azkaban could have driven Black mad. Harry had read about them, about dementors, in The Ultimate Compendium of All Dark Creatures Known and Un-Known Theodore had given to him for his birthday. He'd been fascinated by the Ministry standard of quintuplet Xs that conveyed that they were considered as dangerous as dragons, basilisks and acromantula…
Sally-Anne frowned at Harry. "You're plotting something."
"Am I?" Harry said loftily.
"Harry, swear you won't go looking for Black. I don't want to lose you," Neville said abruptly.
"Why on Earth would I want to do that?"
"Because you would. I don't know why."
"That was a rhetorical question, not meant to be answered."
Sally-Anne's eyes darted from Harry and then to Neville and back again. "Is this about your adoption being contested?"
Harry dropped his face into his hands, hating to be reminded.
Neville looked a little frightful at the mention of that. "You've got to keep it to yourself until the court's made its decision."
Harry turned his head at Neville with a look of incredulity. The Gryffindor told everyone at Harry's birthday party as if it hadn't mattered at all.
"You will keep it a secret, won't you?"
"Of course. We Slytherins are expert Secret-Keepers," Sally-Anne said, "I swear I won't tell a soul."
Neville let out a calming breath. "Good. Gran could get in a lot of trouble for that."
Harry and Sally-Anne exchanged a glance. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly at her. She gave him an innocent look back. He knew it was far too late to hope that his Slytherin year-mates hadn't told their parents…
"Sweets!" A voice cried.
Harry looked up happily. The plump witch with the food cart had arrived. He ordered a bottle each of pumpkin juice and water and a stack of cauldron cakes, paying for them promptly.
"You think we should wake him?" Neville asked gingerly. "He looks too thin to me."
The three Hogwarts students looked at their shabby professor sadly.
"Don't worry, dears," the witch said as she handed Harry the drinks and a large stack of cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."
Neville leaned forward, eyeing the man worriedly. "At least he's still breathing," he whispered as he took the cauldron cake Harry passed to him.
"Yeah." Looking out the rain-streaked window, Harry opened the glass bottle of water, hissing quietly. He felt the snakes slither up to the collar of his neck and out and over. Harry watched as the water indented as each of them took a drink. Lucy hissed her thanks and the both of them curled back under his robes. Harry capped the bottle, setting it aside. He opened the other drink and took a long sip of the pumpkin juice without his classmates being any wiser of the Dark creatures on Harry.
He settled in for a long ride to Hogwarts.