Disclaimer: JK Rowling left-handed may not be readable, but still owns Harry Potter.

A/N: Thank you for the suggestions on Hermione's Patronus. I really did consider them, but unfortunately, the top two responses (by far beating all others) just don't work for me. Sirens (merpeople) are sentient, which I really don't want. Patronuses are supposed to be animals, and a sentient one is a little too HPMOR for this fic. The other choice, a nundu, just seems too much like it's giving her the most powerful possible creature as a Patronus. And while the form and power are not related, Hermione's power is in brains and not brawn, so I don't think it suits her character.

I was surprised that so many people dislike the otter so much, which, as I said, I think is a good fit. (The otter is very intelligent, a tool-user, and it has a playful personality, which fits better with her friendship with Fred and George here than in canon.) So I'm sorry to have to disagree, but I didn't see a compelling argument to change it.

A lot of people suggested Dobby should just pop everyone back into the castle. I've always thought house elves were too powerful as typically portrayed. It breaks the story. So I've cut their power back about as far as I can whilst remaining consistent with canon. Basically, Dobby can't move that many people singly or in groups without suffering magical exhaustion. He also doesn't know where Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion is since there's no guarantee Snape left it in his office.

Thanks to Endgames for advice on this chapter.

Chapter 57

"It means moonrise is in ten minutes!" Hermione said frantically.

Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew all looked horrified, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny all gave her blank looks. "So?" Ron asked.

"So?! Sorry, Professor. Lupin's a werewolf!"

"What?!" Ron and Ginny said.

But Harry still had a blank look on his face: "So?"

"Harry! Werewolves are dangerous dark creatures!" Ron said.

"Hermione, you knew?" Ginny asked.

"I'm highly logical, remember?" she said. "Honestly, I figured it out in September. Did none of you notice he was always sick the day after the full moon? For heaven's sake, Snape assigned us an essay on werewolves the first time it happened."

"Okay, but what's the matter with werewolves?" Harry insisted.

"They're horrible creatures that want to eat us!" Ron said.

"Ronald, that's not fair," Hermione chided. "They're perfectly normal wizards except during the full moon—which, unfortunately, this is. We've got nine and a half minutes before there's an angry werewolf in this room!"

"Remus, have you taken your potion?" Black asked.

"No, I haven't," Lupin said sadly.

"What potion?" Harry asked.

"The Wolfsbane Potion. It allows me to keep my human mind when I transform. It was only invented a few years ago. But I missed my last dose; it's useless. I don't understand. I checked the clock. Full-moonrise isn't this early this time of year. I was sure I had another half hour to get back."

"This time of year?" Hermione said, wide-eyed. "Oh, Professor, time at Hogwarts fluctuates half an hour from day to day relative to the sun and moon. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, Merlin!" Lupin said. "How could I forget?"

"There's no time, Moony," Black said. "Nine minutes! We've got to get the kids out of here."

"Padfoot, that's not enough time! They'll never get back to Hogwarts that fast."

"They don't need to. They just need to get out of the Shack."

"No! The charms on the Shack have worn off by now. Dumbledore told me at the start of the year. Moony will be able to follow their scent trail!"

Black paled. "Oh no…" he said. "Okay, we can do this. I'll stay behind and hold him off in dog form. You can come get us in the morning."

"Can we get Pettigrew back to the castle on our own?" Ginny said. "What if he tries to escape?"

"Yeah, we might need you, Sirius," Harry pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Harry, we can't risk Moony coming after us in the tunnel. We could stun him."

"That would slow them down, even with magic," Lupin warned. "They'll already have to carry Ron."

"What if we bar the door?" Ron suggested.

"No, that'll never hold up against Moony," Lupin dismissed him.

"Even with magic?"

"Not for long enough. We'd need runes."

"I can carve runes! Can you fix my leg?"

"Ferula," Lupin said. Ron's leg was bandaged in a splint. "That's the best I can do, but we don't have time to carve runes."

But Ron got up, hobbled to the door, and drew his small rune-carving knife from his pocket. "I've got an idea, though. It doesn't have to be fancy," he said.

"No, Ron, he's right," Hermione said. "We don't have time. Eight minutes!"

"No, really, I've got this," Ron said as he carved. "Just some basic fortification runes."

"And where are you gonna get the power. It'll take too long to carve the sequences to tap the ley lines, and we haven't even covered them in class."

"We don't need the ley lines. We'll do like our little wooden blocks—just dump a bunch of spells into them."

She looked at what he was carving and quickly did the maths: the amount of force a werewolf could likely exert on the door, the power that went into a fortification spell like Duro, how many spells they could throw at the door in about a minute, the quality of the runes…it was no good: "Ron, it's not gonna work, with the power we have and the way you're carving, it's only gonna hold for half an hour or so."

"Hello, Hermione, we only need it to hold for half an hour or so."

"But—"

"Hermione, not everything needs to be a perfect O!" Ron spoke over her. "All we need is something that'll hold him long enough to get away. That's it. We don't need to get a perfect score on the homework. Now are you gonna stand there complaining, or are you gonna do something useful?"

Hermione stared at Ron, speechless. Maybe it didn't happen often, but Ron could really impress her sometimes. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again, and finally said, "Okay, six and a half minutes. I've got an idea, too. I need twine—something strong, but flexible and preferably not transfigured."

"There's probably some around here," Black said. "Accio twine." A few seconds later, a spool of twine flew into his hands, and he tossed it to her. She inspected it and found it to be in good condition.

"Done!" Ron said. "Start casting. Duro!"

Lupin, Black, and even Harry and Ginny started casting spells at the door to fortify it, but Hermione was busy finishing up her own idea. "Dobby, make sure those ropes stay on him," she said, pointing at Pettigrew. Then, she wrapped the twine once around her left wrist, pointed her wand at it, and cast, "Lapsu Nodum Strictus." The twine tied itself into a simple slip knot and pulled itself tight, but the real trick to the spell came when she twisted her wand, and the tension increased. She tightened the knot until it started to become uncomfortable, and when she broke off the spell, she found that when she tried to loosen it, it immediately tightened itself back to the same tension.

"Yes, got it in one," she said. She immediately proceeded to tie the twine around each of Pettigrew's wrists, pinning them behind his back and tying him to her. "Lapsu Nodum Strictus. Lapsu Nodum Strictus."

"Okay, that should hold long enough," Black said from across the room, and they stopped casting at the door. "What was that you did, Hermione?"

"It's a self-tightening slip knot," she said. "Now, if he transforms, the twine will keep him tied up—and probably dislocate his arms." Pettigrew winced.

Black's eyebrows rose. "Where'd you learn that spell?"

"I made it up just now."

The man's eyebrows rose much higher, and he looked to Lupin for confirmation.

"She's easily Lily's equal, Sirius," Lupin said. "And in Arithmancy, the best even Septima Vector has ever seen. She's taking her O.W.L. next month—Also, five minutes! You need to go. Take my wand, give Harry and Ginny theirs, and shut the door behind you."

"Got it. Let's go! Hurry!" Black said. The four students and Dobby followed. Hermione pulled Pettigrew by her makeshift leash while Harry supported Ron so they could make good time on three legs between them. They shut the reinforced door and scrambled down the stairs.

"Dobby," Hermione said, "go to Professor Dumbledore. Tell him that Peter Pettigrew is alive, Sirius Black is innocent, and we're bringing them both to the castle. And he's got…twenty-seven to forty-two minutes before Lupin breaks out of the Shrieking Shack."

"Is you sure you is safe here, Miss Hermione?" Dobby said worriedly.

"About as safe as we can be in this situation. We need Dumbledore's help."

"Yes, miss." The elf popped away.

"Hermione, tie me to Pettigrew, too," Ginny said as they hit the tunnel.

"What? Are you sure?" she replied.

"I don't want him to get away. 'Scabbers' chewed on everything, but he can't chew through two strings at once."

"Okay," Hermione cast her charm again to tie the three of them together as they ran. "Ron, what are you doing? We have to go!"

"Just a sec!" Ron had staggered behind the group, bent down, and written a jagged line in the dirt. Then, he rolled up his sleeve and wrote the same jagged line with dirt on his arm. He waved his wand: "Bliviklet. Okay, go!" They ran again, and he explained, "Entangled pair of runes, remember? They're good for monitoring. When it breaks, we'll know Lupin got out."

Hermione was briefly struck speechless again. "Ron, how do you come up with this stuff?" she said.

"I'm highly logical at doing things quick and dirty with a minimum amount of effort," he replied smugly.

Hermione was glad it was so dark because she could feel herself turning red with embarrassment. She had accused Ron of a number of things very similar to that over the past three years, usually right after he called her a know-it-all. Apparently, his slacking was actually useful once in a while—a great while.

With the warning rune in place, they felt comfortable enough to slow their pace to a brisk walk so that they were less likely to trip over each other, and Ron was less likely to collapse. About a third of the way down the tunnel, they heard a loud thud far behind them. Lupin had transformed. But after several thuds, it seemed like the door would hold.

"Oh, no! Crookshanks!" Hermione gasped suddenly. "He's still back there!"

"He'll be fine," Black said quickly. "Werewolves don't attack animals. He might even slow him down a little more."

"Oh."

"Your cat's been my best friend in the school," he added. "Very smart, too. I could communicate with him some in dog form. I asked him to bring Peter to me, but he couldn't do it."

"What? That's why he was always after him?" Ron gasped.

"Of course. Cats don't normally get so fixated on one rat. That would just be ridiculous."

"Merlin, he must've known right from the start," Ron said. "That's why he attacked him in the shop. Hermione, I'm really sorry about everything. Crookshanks was smarter than all of us."

"You had no way of knowing, Ron—" she started.

"No, I mean it." He nudged Harry so he could limp closer to her. He was getting out of breath from the effort. "I've been an arse to you all year, and the whole time both of you were just trying to help us. I mean, I thought I liked this creep, but you didn't deserve when you were freaking out, and we were all ignoring you. I mean, it took the Twins to track you down. I sure didn't look."

"Only the Twins could track me down," she muttered.

"Well…you were still right, anyway. I was being stupid."

"Like usual?" Ginny said.

"Ginny, don't ruin my moment. Look…you've helped us out of so much trouble before—I guess I should've…talked to you instead of just yelling."

"That's…that's very mature of you Ron," Hermione replied in surprise. "And…thank you." Better late than never, anyway. I just hope he can make it a permanent change.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too, Hermione," Harry said. "You've always been there for me when I needed help, but I wasn't paying attention when you needed it."

"Well, you did help me with the Patronus Charm, Harry, but thank you, too."

"Anyway…when Crookshanks couldn't get Peter himself, he managed to get the passwords for the tower," Black said, awkwardly picking the conversation back up. "Some boy had them on his bedside table."

Hermione gasped again. "So Neville didn't lose them in the laundry…You're the reason he got in so much trouble!"

"Sorry," Black said. "When I get cleared, I'll write his Gran a letter telling her to let him off whatever horrible punishment she gave him."

They hurried on, the thuds behind them reminding them to keep pace. Now that they felt a little safer, though, Hermione worked up the nerve to ask one of the questions she still didn't understand. "Mr. Black?" she said.

"Please, call me Sirius," he murmured.

"Sirius…if you don't mind saying, how did you break out of Azkaban?"

Sirius shuddered slightly. "Azkaban is a terrible, terrible place," he said. "It's a dark fortress on an unplottable island in the North Sea. The Ministry likes to think it's escape proof, but the weak point is the guards."

"The dementors?" Hermione said incredulously.

"Yes. You wouldn't think that, would you? But the dementors are blind. They track almost entirely by emotion, and they can't spot animals so well. Humans hardly ever interact with the prisoners. It's almost always dementors. It's a horrible feeling, having so many around. Most people go mad, but I had my innocence to cling to. It wasn't a happy thought, so they couldn't take it from me. For twelve years, I just lay there. I…I thought I deserved it…but then I saw that photo, and I knew I had to get out. It was actually really simple—I still almost died, but it was simple. I was very thin—even thinner as Padfoot. One night I slipped past them when they delivered my dinner and managed to squeeze through the bars out the front door. Then, I just swam to shore. Frankly, I'm still surprised I made it, but here I am."

"So why did you and my dad become animagi?" Harry asked.

"We figured out Remus's secret in our second year. Transforming alone is harder for a werewolf. They start biting and scratching at themselves when they're confined—well, a lot of animals do that, but it's especially bad for them. So we became animagi to keep him company and let him roam a bit, since we'd be safe as animals. It took us three years, and it's a miracle it didn't go horribly wrong, but hey, we were young and reckless."

"I'm surprised he didn't tell Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said.

"Yeah, me too, come to think of it, but you'll have to take that up with him. I took a couple of side trips to try to get close to you, Harry, but there were always too many people around."

"I saw you," Harry said. "At Privett Drive, and then at the Quidditch match…You did send the Firebolt, didn't you."

"Of course. Only the best for my godson. I'm glad McGonagall let you keep it. I wasn't sure she would. You fly brilliantly—so do you, Ginny, for that matter."

"Er, thanks," Ginny said, blushing.

"So what about you, Hermione?" he continued. "Impossibly good at arithmancy is one thing, but how does a muggle-born get an old family house elf? And why was he wearing clothes?"

"Oh, that was Dobby. Harry and I tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing him last year, and I hired him for pay."

Sirius's jaw dropped, and then he broke into a broad grin: "Hermione, I think I'm in love."

"You'll have to get in line behind Fred and George," she deadpanned.

Sirius laughed—a weak, rasping laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. "Quick-witted, too. I think you would've fit in well with us when we were in school."

"Thanks…I think…So if you knew what really happened with Pettigrew, why didn't you tell them at your trial?"

"What trial? I never got a trial."

"WHAT?!" Hermione screamed. "You mean they can just throw people in prison without trial in this country?!"

Everyone took a nervous half step away from Hermione. "They're not supposed to," Sirius said. "I was probably supposed to be there pending trial, but they were so sure I did it they never came back for me. By now, they've probably forgotten I was never charged. Anyway, it's not important. We'll get it cleared up soon enough," he said hopefully. "In fact, Harry, I'll understand if you still want to live with your aunt and uncle, but…legally, I'll be able to take custody of you…if you wanted a…a different home…"

"Are you kidding?" Harry gasped excitedly. "Leave the Dursleys? Of course I want to! Do you have a house? When can I move in?"

"You mean it Harry?"

"Yes, I mean it!"

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. If she ever got her hands on whoever it was who'd denied Sirius a trial…but she pushed the thought from her mind. It looked like things were finally looking up for Harry. That was the important thing.

They reached the end of the tunnel, and Sirius reached up and pressed the knot to immobilise the Whomping Willow. The climbed out, got clear of the branches, and started up the hill to the castle.

And then, Hermione's good mood vanished, and an icy terror descended. She knew that feeling by now: "Oh, no." They slowed and looked around, and the sight she saw felt like a spear of ice to her heart: "Oh, please God, no!"

Dozens of dementors, probably the whole contingent on the grounds, were sweeping towards them from all directions. She remembered what Professor Dumbledore had said at the start of the year: dementors are not creatures of nuance. They had been ordered to Kiss Sirius Black on sight, and nothing would deter them from their prey—certainly not words; not the fact that he was innocent, if they were even capable of understanding it; probably not even having to Kiss anyone else who got in their way.

"RUN!" she screamed.

"WHERE?" Ron yelled back.

He was right. They were surrounded. Sirius clutched at his head and stumbled to his knees. Pettigrew could do nothing. Ginny looked faint, and Ron could barely stand. The dementors were closing in fast. "Harry, you have to cast your Patronus!" She raised her own wand and focused with all her might. It was so much harder with real dementors bearing down on her, sucking away all her happy memories—harder than anything a Boggart could throw at her. "Expecto Patronum!" she cried. A white mist emerged from her wand, but no more.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled. His attempt was no better.

"Harry, please!" she said. "You're going to free your godfather. You're never going to have to see the Dursleys again. You have to cast your Patronus!"

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled. A white glow emanated from his wand and coalesced into a shield.

Come on, Hermione, she told herself. Holiday with Mum and Dad, sitting around talking with my friends. Come on, you've done it before; cast the spell! "Expecto Patronum!"

The white light shot out from Hermione's wand. She focused on it, clinging to the light like a lifeline with everything in her, desperately trying to force more power through her wand. With a tremendous effort, the light grew brighter, coalesced, solidified, and suddenly, for the first time, it took form.

Before her was a glowing, silver otter.

"Wow," she whispered.

Her Patronus gambolled, swerved, and zoomed in circles around her through the air, ready to chase away dementors in any direction. Looking back at Harry, she was amazed at the sight. Before him stood a proud, majestic, silver stag.

"Prongs," Sirius breathed. "I don't believe it."

"Thank Moony," Harry said, gritting his teeth from the effort.

"Uh, guys?" Ron pointed out of the circle. The dementors were still advancing. The Patronuses wavered as their drain on Harry's and Hermione's energy grew. There were just too many of them.

"Stay together!" Harry yelled. The group huddled together so that the Patronuses could circle around all of them. Ginny sat on Pettigrew, and Hermione was forced to drop to the ground and practically lie on top of her. Harry pulled Ron and Sirius close to him, barely standing his ground.

"Help!" Ginny screamed. "Anybody! Help! Dementors!"

"Dobby!" Hermione cried.

Pop! "Miss Hermi—AHHH!"

"Dobby, no!" Stupid! His abuse is coming back to haunt him. "Dobby, no! Get out! Get Dumbledore!" But Dobby wavered on his feet for a moment and fainted beside her. Then, the light of the Patronuses dimmed, and the icy tendrils crept closer again. The dementors were standing over her, pressing their way inward. Hermione shifted her position, shielding Ginny and Dobby with her body and pressing her left arm over her own mouth. The silver otter grew pale and transparent and was forced to hover over them. She could just barely see Harry's stag flicker as it tried to protect him, Ron, and Sirius. Not my friends! she pleaded silently. Not Ginny! Not Ron! Not Harry! Not Sirius! Harry's finally found a family; you can't take that away now! Come on, come on, come on—holiday with Mum and Dad, time talking with friends, helping people with arithmancy, showing up Malfoy…She kept her Patronus, going, but barely. The otter sat on her chest, hissing madly, nearly fading away.

The nearest dementor leaned down and, to her horror, pulled back its hood. It had a ruin of a face: no eyes or nose, only mottled, grey, scabbed skin. The only feature was a mouth, but even that wasn't a mouth, only a shapeless, gaping hole. The demon's breath sounded like a smoker dying of emphysema; it smelled like a rotting corpse; it felt like an icy wind.

NO! Not my friends! I can't lose them! She kept fighting back, and somehow, the otter retained its shape, but the monster leaned closer and lay one frozen hand on Hermione's wand arm. Pain shot through her body. Her hand felt like it had been plunged into ice water, and worse. It burned with cold, and she knew she couldn't hold out for long. She squealed in agony while managing to keep her teeth clenched, and in her ears, she heard Tom Riddle laughing at her. She knew her Patronus must fail any second, and she'd be done for. And then…

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

There was a brief whooshing sound, and then, WHAM! The dementor was blasted away from her by a blinding white streak. There was a sound of screaming, but not of human screaming. The dementors scattered in the presence of an impossibly bright light—a light that radiated warmth and safety and drove the icy grip on the world away.

Hermione sat up with some effort and looked around. Through the stars in her eyes, she saw blurry shapes picking themselves off the ground, and—yes, three of the—Harry, Ron, and Sirius. "Ginny?" she asked worriedly.

"Still here," the younger girl moaned.

"Dobby?"

"Dobby will be feeling this is the morning," the elf squeaked feebly.

"Sorry, Dobby. Pettigrew?"

The two girls turned over and inspected the traitor. As their vision cleared, they say Pettigrew lying motionless on the ground, staring off into space.

"Is he faking?" Ginny said.

"I don't know…" Hermione was afraid. She didn't know what would happen if Pettigrew had been Kissed. "Kick him in the bits again."

Pettigrew was a good actor, but at that threat, he flinched a bit.

"Phew. Still alive and still has what passes for his soul," she muttered. She looked down at her hand and felt faint. Her whole hand had a bluish cast and was still in a lot of pain. The dementor's touch had seemingly given her frostbite. She couldn't even unclench it to put away her wand. The only good thing was that the pain meant it was still alive.

Blinking again to dispel the afterimage of the Patronus, she looked up to she Professor Dumbledore running towards them across the grounds. He looked furious, which was as terrifying a sight as it was at the Quidditch match. "Cornelius, I told you to call the dementors off!" he roared. A man behind him in a lime green bowler flinched.

"Oh, Professor, thank God!" Hermione called, and then, the scene descended into a cacophony of noise.

Ginny screamed. Pettigrew had rolled over her and grabbed her wand in his still-tied hands. Hermione saw in a blink that he had his back to the group, and he had the wand pointed at the ground, and several thoughts flashed through her mind too fast to consciously articulate.

Dumbledore was seconds away from catching Pettigrew leaving him only one chance to try to get away.

Pettigrew knew she had sent Dobby to tell Dumbledore the truth.

Pettigrew had already escaped certain capture once twelve years ago—very violently.

The world started again as Sirius screamed something unintelligible. Then, Pettigrew shouted, "Fracassa Veloci!"

Hermione acted: "Spongify! AHHH!"

BOOOOM! SPLAT!

There was a sound like a canon blast, and everyone was knocked off their feet from Pettigrew all the way back to the Minister for Magic. Hermione felt like she'd been hit with a firehouse, and her frostbitten hand was screaming in pain at the effort of casting a simple first-year charm. She'd known she only had a split second before they were all killed by that fragmentation grenade curse. Presumably, Pettigrew thought he could escape if the people binding him were dead, and if he took out Dumbledore, too, so much the better. But she knew what that spell did, and she had done the only thing she could think of: cast a Softening Charm at the ground. Then, instead of being shot through with shrapnel, the fragments disintegrated, and they were effectively sandblasted, but still alive.

Pettigrew rolled over, still bound in both twine and ropes, seemingly dazed and confused that the curse hadn't killed them. His eyes flashed, and he looked ready to cast something even worse, but Hermione was already on the move. She ripped her wand from her frozen hand, brandished it left-handed, not thinking of the consequences, pointed it at Pettigrew's face, and screamed out, "CHIROPTERA MUCOSA!"

In retrospect, an Expelliarmus would have been a better choice, but it was effective. Maybe a little too effective. Even Hermione looked down at her wand in horror when a black bat failed to crawl out of Pettigrew's nose. Instead, he fell on his side, coughing and retching, and dozens of huge black beetles crawled out of his mouth. Apparently, casting left-handed didn't work so well.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" Dumbledore was on his feet again, and bolts of red light struck both Sirius and Pettigrew, causing them to fall unconscious. Beetles were still crawling lazily out of Pettigrew's mouth, causing him to make disturbing snoring noises.

"NO!" Harry yelled. "HE'S INNOCENT!"

"It's true Professor!"

"We heard it all!"

"I promise we will question them thoroughly," Dumbledore cut them off. "Is Professor Lupin still in the Shrieking Shack?"

Ron pulled back his sleeve and checked the marking on his arm. It was still legible. "Uh, yeah, for now," he said. "I set a warning rune."

"Excellent thinking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. He pulled four bars of chocolate from his robes and handed them to the four children. "Are all of you alright?"

Hermione held up her frozen hand. Ron pointed to his broken leg. Harry had an icy patch on his sleeve, but his hand didn't look frostbitten.

"Madam Pomfrey will see to that," Dumbledore told her. "Eat, quickly."

Hermione put her chocolate bar between her teeth for leverage and broke off the far corner with her good hand. She handed that corner to Dobby, who was shivering by her feet before taking a large bite herself. It was surprising how much chocolate helped. She wouldn't have thought plain endorphins would be that strong.

"Professor, you have to listen to us!" Harry pleaded. "Sirius Black is innocent. Peter Pettigrew—"

"I know, Harry. Dobby told me everything," Dumbledore interrupted. "I will ensure this is sorted out. However, the Minister—"

"Albus, what the blazes was that—?" Cornelius Fudge said as he reached them. He stopped cold when he saw the two unconscious men. "Merlin's beard! It is Pettigrew."

"It's true, Minister," Ron said. "He's an animagus. He's been hiding as Scabbers for twelve years."

"He was the Secret-Keeper, too," Hermione added. "They didn't tell anyone they'd switched."

"Pettigrew used that spell—" Harry started.

"GAH! NO!" Ron interrupted. He held out his arm. The warning rune turned into a smear of mud.

"What is it, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore said.

"Lupin just broke out!"

"What?" Fudge said. "What are you talking about?"

"A werewolf will be here in several minutes, Cornelius. Do not fear; I will stop him. All of you need to get back to the castle immediately. Go to the infirmary. Dobby, get another elf to help to levitate these two—"

"I've got it, Professor," Hermione said. "Sonya!"

Pop! Since they were back on the grounds and her shift was over by now, Hermione knew she could call her other close elf friend. "Miss Hermione—Eek! Sirius Black!" she cried.

"No, it's okay, Sonya. I'll explain later. Help Dobby with these two. We have to get up to the castle!"

The two elves levitated the two unconscious wizards, and the all of them ran up the hill. The elves weren't as fast on their short legs, though, so Hermione picked Dobby up and let him climb on her back with his arms around her neck. "Ginny, get Sonya," she said. They must have looked a strange sight: four kids, with two elves riding on their shoulders, the Minister for Magic, and two unconscious criminals racing up the hill to the castle. Harry and Ron were now the slowest of the bunch, especially on the rough ground. Ginny shifted Sonya around so she could support her brother's other arm. Meanwhile, Dobby was talking at a mile a minute, trying to explain to Sonya what was going on.

When they reached the Clock Tower Courtyard, they suddenly heard a loud howl from down the hill followed by a series of yelps accompanied by flashes of red light, and then all was silent.

They stopped to take a breather. They seemed to be safe for now.

The Minister was staring at the two prisoners in awe: "You caught him? You actually caught Sirius Black?"

Hermione spun around to face the man. He looked the same as he had in the Three Broomsticks that day: a short, portly man with a lime green bowler and the air of a politician. And then, as the heat of battle dissipated, Hermione's anger found an outlet.

"YOU!" she screamed hysterically, running up to him and getting uncomfortably close to his face. Fudge took a nervous step back. "WHAT THE BUGGERING HELL WERE YOU THINKING PUTTING DEMENTORS AROUND A SCHOOL?! THEY DIDN'T MAKE US SAFER! THEY WOULD'VE KISSED ALL FOUR OF US JUST FOR BEING WITH BLACK IF DUMBLEDORE HADN'T SHOWN UP! WHAT IF WE'D BEEN HOSTAGES, HUH?! I NEARLY GOT MY BLOODY SOUL SUCKED OUT BECAUSE OF YOUR BUMBLING! HARRY POTTER NEARLY GOT HIS SOUL SUCKED OUT! WAKE UP, FUDGE; YOU DON'T USE DEMONS FROM THE PIT OF HELL AS GUARDS WHEN THEY CAN'T EVEN TELL THE INNOCENT FROM THE GUILTY!"

"MISS GRANGER!"

She stopped and spun around once again. Dumbledore was back.

"Dumbledore, control your student!" Fudge shouted. "She's gone mad!"

"Miss Granger, please calm yourself." Dumbledore said. "You need to rest until you are more collected."

Hermione jumped back, horrified at what she'd just done, even if it was deserved. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, looking down at her feet. "I don't know what came over me. After everything that's happened tonight…I just lost it."

"I understand, Miss Granger. You've just been through a traumatic experience. I would deduct points for shouting at the Minister, but I would have to give them back again for your exemplary show of magic. And Cornelius, while I can't condone Miss Granger's method, she does have a point. I warned you of the dangers of posting the dementors here."

"And I told you it was the best way to find Black," Fudge said imperiously. "And it worked, didn't it? We've found Black."

"And the dementors also attempted to Kiss four innocent children," he said. "You saw it. If Miss Granger and Mr. Potter had not performed an extraordinary feat for third years by casting Patronus Charms, as you also saw, the Boy-Who-Lived would be short of a soul right now."

Fudge paled. "Well, that is…quite a serious problem, yes," he said nervously. "They'll, er, have to be dealt with accordingly. Although it can't have been that close," he spun it at once. "I'm not convinced I saw any Patronus out there besides yours, Albus. But—but it's not important. Now that we have these two, we won't need the dementors here anymore." He pointed at Sirius and Pettigrew.

"And moreover," Dumbledore continued over Fudge's objection, "it was not the dementors who found Black, but Miss Granger and her friends in what is sure to be a very entertaining story. It seems that Sirius may not be as black as he is painted."

Fudge didn't laugh at the Headmaster's joke. "The word of an elf, Albus?" Fudge said sceptically. "You must know that carries no weight in court."

"What?" Hermione hissed in surprise. Dobby just shook his head when she looked at him.

"But you must admit, Cornelius. With Pettigrew alive, it is clear that we do not fully understand what happened on the first of November, 1981. That alone should be enough to rescind the Kiss on Sight order pending a full investigation of both individuals."

"Albus, you can't possibly think that Black is innocent," Fudge replied. "I saw him laughing in the middle of the street myself, and now it's clear why. These two were working together."

"NO!" Harry yelled. He dropped Ron, who staggered and leaned on Ginny, and ran up to Fudge. "Minister, listen! Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew did all of it!"

"But surely it must have been a conspiracy. You yourself said Black had an ally, Albus."

"An ally?" Hermione said in confusion. "Oh, no, the prophecy. You think Black is the second servant? He's not! He's completely innocent! He never worked for Voldemort at all!"

"Ah! That's enough, girl," Fudge said. "I let you carry on because you're clearly traumatised and possibly Confunded, but—"

"I AM NOT CONFUNDED!" she screamed. "SIRIUS IS INNOCENT!"

"Miss Granger, please," Dumbledore said soothingly. "I know you heard the words of the prophecy from your friends. It spoke of two servants. How do you read it?"

Hermione took a deep breath, determined not to go off again, no matter how infuriating Fudge got. "I don't know, sir, but…but I tied up Pettigrew with a spell I made up tonight," she said, and things started to click into place. "That would him the servant who was 'bound by spells unknown'. Professor—do you think what Professor Trelawney gave was a real prophecy?"

"I do believe so—the second of her career. Perhaps I should give her a raise. But please continue."

"Well…the other servant was supposed to escape before midnight—Of course. You just have to hold Sirius until midnight, and that'll prove he's not the other servant. That should be simple enough. I don't think one who escapes was ever here in the first place."

Dumbledore looked grave at that news, but he said, "Very well. We will hold Black here until midnight. Cornelius, you may of course bring Aurors in to question him at your leisure."

"Do you really think that's necessary?"

"Minister, all you need to do is question Pettigrew under Veritaserum—" Harry said.

"Might as well question both of them," Hermione added.

Dumbledore gave the Minister a piercing gaze. His eyes weren't twinkling at all, now. "Surely, that cannot be a problem, Cornelius," he said. "It can only reveal the truth. You do wish to be known for upholding justice, of course."

Hermione guessed this wasn't such a good time to bring up the fact that Sirius hadn't got a trial, so she held her tongue.

"Oh, very well, Albus," the Minister grumbled. "I'll send for an interrogator at once. And suspend the Kiss on Sight order, but I'm telling you you're wasting your time…" He walked off complaining to no one in particular.

"Very good," Dumbledore said. "Now, you really must get to the Infirmary. You have my assurances that both Black and Pettigrew will be questioned, and as Chief Warlock, I will ensure that justice is served for both of them. If you are indeed telling the truth about everything, I should be able to smooth things over with the Minister soon enough."

Much relieved, the foursome trod up to the Hospital Wing with Dumbledore levitating Sirius and Pettigrew in tow. "Thank you, sir," Harry said as he caught his breath.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione added. She felt the weariness overtake her as the adrenaline wore off, and she hoped she could make it up to the Hospital Wing on her own. "Bloody dementors," she muttered to herself. "Damn them all back to hell where they belong…Good God, the Minister could've murdered somebody just for political points…" She trailed off, not wanting to say out loud what she was thinking: she was starting to wonder if she actually wanted to stay in Britain. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't run away anymore, but between those two things, she wasn't sure if anyone in the country was truly safe, and that wasn't even accounting for whatever horrible thing was bound to happen next year.

"My goodness," Madam Pomfrey said as she saw the string of patients come into the Infirmary, limping, clutching arms and legs, and covered in mud. "What happened?"

"Dementors," Ginny said.

"Tsk. Dementors again? Serious exposure, I assume?"

Hermione mumbled something.

"What was that Miss Granger?"

Hermione was just barely able to speak up enough to make herself heard: "I said close enough to see their faces."

Madam Pomfrey turned white. "Chocolate—" The four students held up their half-eaten chocolate bars. "Good. Right."

"Madam Pomfrey, my hand…" Hermione showed it to her, wincing. Her flagging adrenaline was also letting the pain come through again.

"Merlin's beard, it touched you?" the Mediwitch gasped. "Lie down, lie down, quickly. Mr. Weasley, I'll get to you in a moment. Miss Weasley, if you can hold her other arm down?" She summoned a bowl to the bedside table and held her hand over it. "I'm sorry about this, Miss Granger. Aguamenti."

Hermione screamed in agony. Her hand felt like it was on fire as the water poured over it. She struggled where she lay, but Madam Pomfrey and Ginny held her fast.

"What're doing to her?!" Ron yelled. He and Harry got up and started to approach.

"Stay where you are, you two," Pomfrey warned. "It's okay, Miss Granger. It's only lukewarm, but I need to get your hand warmed up quickly. Direct contact with dementors can do serious damage if it's untreated." She waited until Hermione stopped thrashing enough to hold her hand in the bowl of water and broke off to attend to her other patients. Harry and Ginny only needed rest, but Ron's several dog bites and broken leg needed a bit more attention. Finally, she turned her attention to the two unconscious men, one of whom was still crawling with beetles. Hermione was a little surprised he hadn't started choking by now, but either way, it didn't look pleasant.

"Sirius Black!" she gasped. "You caught him, and…Merlin's beard! Peter Pettigrew? How?"

"It's a long story, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "For the moment, can you reverse the hex upon him?"

Madam Pomfrey tried a couple of general counter-spells, but they wouldn't stick. "Hmm…you could probably do that better than I could, Albus. Do you know what he was hit with?" she asked.

"It sounded like a Bat-Bogey Hex," Ginny said.

"I doubt that, Miss Weasley. Those are neither bats nor bogeys."

"It was," Hermione said embarrassedly. "It was left-handed, and I think that messedd it up. The throat is still a mucous membrane…I'm not sure about the beetles though."

"Ah, actually, I believe I understand now." Professor Dumbledore said. "In Greek, 'bat' is 'chiroptera', while 'beetle' is 'coleoptera'. Not far off. Accounting for that, it should be simple to devise a counter-spell." He waved his wand in a complicated motion that must have been an improvised countercurse, and Pettigrew immediately stopped coughing. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw it. She had a long way to go before she could come up with a fix for a botched spell on the spot like that. "There, I trust you can handle the rest, Poppy?" Madam Pomfrey nodded immediately started cleaning him up.

"Good. Dobby, Sonnitt, please tell Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick to report here at once. They will be able to ensure that no animagi escape."

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir," the elves said in unison and vanished.

But even before those two professors arrived, into the Hospital Wing rushed Septima Vector. "Hermione!" she gasped, making a beeline towards her favourite student. "Are you alright? Fred and George Weasley are telling all the teachers you were attacked by—" she stopped when she saw the black-haired man lying on a nearby bed. "Sirius Black! They finally caught the murderer!"

What? Just…what? Hermione blinked in confusion as she realised just how far behind the curve her teacher was. "Professor Vector, I'm—" She lifted her frostbitten hand out of the water and felt slightly sick. It wasn't blue anymore, but it was red and painfully blistered all over.

"Easy, there, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey interrupted. "You'll need to keep the skin protected while it heals." She took her hand and, with feather touch, began spreading a salve on it, then wrapped it in bandages and finally placed it in a sling against her stomach.

"Professor, this isn't what it looks like," Hermione said to Vector, wincing while the Mediwitch worked. She pointed to another bed.

Vector gasped again: "Is that Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes, ma'am. Do you remember how I said something didn't make sense about Pettigrew's death?"

Now Vector blinked in surprise. What? Just…what? "Yes?" she said. "And…I take it that was because he wasn't dead?"

"Yes, ma'am. He faked his own death with that explosion. We barely stopped him doing the same thing tonight. Sirius Black is innocent."

Professor Vector's mouth just hung open.

"We…er…figured out which of them was telling the truth, and then I invented a spell to keep Pettigrew tied up because he's a rat animagus, and we came back here…But then, when we got back, the dementors…"

But that was too much. As she tried to retell the story, Hermione's composure failed completely. She could handle most things a lot better than she could last winter, but dementors were another matter. She wrapped her good arm around her teacher and cried into her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "It was just awful. It almost makes me want to go home and not come back here."

"Hermione—?"

"They came after all of us! The dementors. They almost got us! I would've been Kissed if I hadn't managed to cast a Patronus—"

Vector was stuck between horror and amazement. "You cast a Patronus?"

"Yes, it was an otter—"

"You cast a corporeal Patronus?"

"Yes, and they still nearly wore me down before Dumbledore got there. Fudge was insane, putting those things around here. And the Sirius—Professor, Sirius never even got a trial! I feel like I'm living in a banana republic! Am I wrong, Professor? Am I wrong for not being sure whether I want to come back here next year?"

"I…" Vector could barely understand what was going on, and she had no idea what a "banana republic" was, so she just wrapped her arms around her student to calm her, being careful of her injured hand. It took several minutes of confused explanation from Hermione's friends and the Headmaster to make it clear what had happened, and Vector was furious by the end of it. If she were fourteen years old again, she'd have half a mind to yell at Fudge for a while herself. Not only had an apparently innocent man had spent twelve years in Azkaban without trial and the real killer spent the past seven years living in Hogwarts as a pet rat, but the dementors had tried to Kiss four children, and it was only through months of effort on Harry's and Hermione's parts to learn the Patronus Charm—in Hermione's case, solely to keep the nightmares away—that they held out against them. She remembered their discussion in February—the existential horror of even the possibility of the destruction of the soul. She hadn't given it much thought then, but now, she thought she might get sick herself.

"I don't know, Hermione," she said. "I know you want to stand by your friends, but I told you last fall that maybe magical Britain isn't safe anymore, and if this kind of…" Words like "incompetence" and "corruption" barely started to cover it. "If things like this happen here three years in a row—if the best security magic can bring can't keep one man out of this school—maybe it is time you cut your losses…Honestly, I'm not even sure what to tell my grand-niece, Georgina, now."

"I do think I'll stay," Hermione said. "I don't want to leave you. I don't want to leave Harry and Ron and Ginny and my other friends, but it's hard. It's harder than ever…" Staying would come with another cost, too. Her parents could never know what happened. She would have to pretend everything was perfectly fine this year if she wanted to return.

Echoing across the grounds, the clock struck midnight. Dumbledore looked at the still-sleeping Sirius for a moment and then, seeing nothing interesting happen, nodded solemnly: "Well, midnight has come and gone without incident. Oh, and I think under the circumstances, the three of you can be excused from your Astronomy class. It seems that you were right, Miss Granger. Black was not the servant who escaped, nor indeed was that servant on the grounds at all."

"Sir, that prophecy said the other servant would go back to Voldemort!" Harry said worriedly.

"What?" Vector gasped.

"It did, Harry," Dumbledore said.

When he didn't elaborate, Harry said, "Well…isn't that bad?"

"Yes, it is very bad, but I have long suspected that Voldemort would one day return. That is no great secret. We have yet some time before he could possibly make any moves. In any case, I think the more pressing question is, since we have both Black and Pettigrew, who was the servant who escaped?"

"Who was it, then, Professor?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment before he finally answered, "I wish I knew."

Cornelius Fudge was worried. He already had one scandal on his hands and another possible one brewing. It was too late to cover up the mess with the dementors; honestly, he had never imagined they would attack children. And then there was Black. If he turned out to be innocent, it could be disastrous to him. He could pin a lot of it on Barty Crouch, of course, but he himself had testified against Black twelve years ago. He had been the prime witness, in fact. He could still remember it—Black laughing in the street. And now Dumbledore said it wasn't the laugh of an evil maniac, but of a nervous breakdown.

Oh, how he would like to be able to sweep the whole thing under the rug, Fudge thought, but no, Dumbledore was too deep into it now. He would demand a full investigation, and he wouldn't accept any funny business.

No, I need to get in front of this, the Minister thought, and immediately began scheming. As soon as he got the results of the investigation, he would preempt their release with a public statement apologising "on behalf of the Ministry" for any wrongdoing and spinning the whole story as much as possible in his favour. Then, if that wasn't enough, he would lob the bit about Dumbledore hiring a werewolf to distract the public. Oh, and he would write personal letters to the families of those four children apologising for the behaviour of the dementors. The public always loved that kind of personal involvement and caring and junk like that.

A/N: Lapsu Nodum Strictus: based on the Latin for "tight slip knot".

Fracassa Veloci: based on the Italian for "shatter fast".