Kindred Spirits

by Tailkinker

This is a work of fan fiction based on the Harry Potter series and the Sailor Moon franchise created respectively by J.K. Rowling and Naoko Takeuchi. The characters and settings belong to their respective owners and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and should not be considered as part of the official canon of either series.

Flights and Fears

At the first breakfast of the new school year, students were required to sit at their house tables—one of only three meals with this requirement. The reason was simple: the professors handed the students their timetables for the year during this meal. Harry's timetable sat in front of him, but his eyes were across the Great Hall.

"...Don't you agree, Harry? Hey, Harry!"

"Eh?" Harry turned to Ron. "What's the problem?"

"Hermione's got three classes all scheduled at nine."

Harry considered that, then turned to Hermione. "Sounds like a nightmare. You said that Professor McGonagall was going to look into it for you. I'm guessing she figured something out?"

"She did," said Hermione.

"Well, I still think you're daft, but have fun." Harry looked back across the Great Hall.

Hotaru had never been popular with her House, but now she was shrinking away from all of them, as though afraid that she might hurt them. He was certain that it was a reaction to her accidental magic. She hadn't recovered before curfew the prior day, and Harry had half expected not to see her this morning.

"I'm sure she'll be okay," said Hermione softly. "Exhaustion rarely has permanent side effects."

"It's not the exhaustion I'm worried about." Harry frowned. "I can't tell you what it is...it's private to her. If she wants to tell you..."

"I get it, Harry," said Hermione. "Don't worry; I'll respect her privacy. I suppose we could let her know we're here for her."

"That would mean a lot to her, I think," said Harry.

Harry and Hermione arrived at the Arithmancy classroom, to find it already mostly filled. Harry noticed Hotaru sitting alone, near the back. He glanced at Hermione.

"Gonna go sit with Hotaru, if that's okay."

"Sure, Harry."

He dropped down into the seat next to her. However, he couldn't help but notice her recoil slightly as he settled beside her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Hotaru shuddered. "I'm scared."

"Because of what happened on the train?"

"Yes," she whispered. "It was...like something took over me. Used me. I didn't feel like I was in control. I don't even remember what happened."

"You drove away the Dementor," said Harry quietly. "At least, that's what Hermione and Ron told me. I passed out, myself."

"I'm glad I didn't hurt anybody," said Hotaru. "But next time, I might. Maybe Lisa was right—"

"Lisa Turpin?" He'd heard that name before.

Hotaru nodded. "She said I was dangerous, that it just proves I can't control my magic."

"I don't think that's the case," said Harry quickly. "And even if you were, I'd still be your friend."

"Really?" She looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Yeah. Pretty sure Ron and Hermione would say the same thing."

The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention, and he looked up, to see Professor Vector staring in their direction.

"As heartfelt as this is," she said, "is it all right with you if I start the class?"

"Sorry, Professor."

Harry dismounted from Buckbeak, a grin on his face.

"Looks like you had fun," commented Hotaru, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Well, it was definitely exhilarating," said Harry. He was glad to see her looking in better spirits. He lowered his voice, mindful of the Hippogriff's pride. "Mind you, I don't think I'll be giving up my broom any time soon."

"All right," yelled Hagrid. "I don't expect the rest of ye to ride them, but let's see yeh make some friends! Come on, each of yeh pick a Hippogriff an' introduce yerselves."

"Want to give it a try?" asked Harry.

Hotaru nodded. "Let's." She turned towards Buckbeak, but paused.

Malfoy and his two cronies were swaggering toward the Hippogriff.

"Doesn't look too hard," said Malfoy. "After all, if Potter could manage it...bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? You great ugly brute—"

Buckbeak reared up and slashed at Malfoy. Harry ran towards the pair, but was too far away to interfere. The blonde boy got his arm up, getting it ripped open by Buckbeak's razor-sharp claws.

Harry placed himself between the fallen Malfoy scion and the enraged Hippogriff, his arms held out wide. "No, Buckbeak! He isn't worth it!" To his surprise, the Hippogriff backed down, and stepped back. Hagrid waved a dead ferret in front of the Hippogriff, attracting his attention, and led him back to the paddock.

Malfoy was writhing on the ground, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. "Your bloody pigeon's murderered me."

"Shut up and hold still," snapped Hotaru. She knelt beside the boy, and put a hand on his arm. The arm glowed, the injury sealing itself shut. Hotaru backward, instinctively reaching out and steadying herself with her hands behind her.

Hagrid returned. "How is he, Miss Tomoe?"

"He'll live," said Hotaru. She was quite out of breath but managed to stand up shakily. "We should probably take him to Madam Pomfrey, so she can look at him."

"And at you," said Harry.

Hagrid glared down at Malfoy. "Get up. An' next time I tell yeh to be polite, maybe you'll listen."

"Leave it to Malfoy to ruin Hagrid's first day of classes."

The threesome entered the Great Hall just as the dinner courses started to appear.

"They wouldn't sack him, though, would they?" asked Hermione in concern.

"They better not," scowled Ron. He glanced up towards the ceiling. "Hey, Harry. Isn't that Hedwig?"

"It is," said Harry. He raised an arm, and his owl landed on it, a letter gripped in one claw. He took the letter, then ran his thumb along her head. "Hang around for dinner, and I'll get you something nice."

"Why would that arrive so late?" asked Hermione. "Why didn't it arrive with the morning mail?"

"No idea," admitted Harry. He sat down at the table, and Hedwig hopped up to his shoulder. He broke the wax seal on the letter, and unfolded it.

"It's from my attorney," he said absently.

"Why do you have an attorney?" asked Hermione.

"Cor, Hermione, give the man some privacy."

"It's all right, Ron," said Harry. "I asked him to find the court records for Sirius Black." Neither of them responded, and Harry looked up, a bit of a grin on his face. "Go ahead. You can ask."

"Why do you want those?" The question came simultaneously from both of them, and Harry chuckled.

"You don't find it odd that Sirius Black supposedly wants to kill me, when he was such a good friend of my father's?"

"I didn't know that," admitted Ron. "'Course, Mum didn't really go into any details when she told me the story."

"Over the summer, I learned that Black was named my godfather." Harry set the letter down next to his plate. "Plus, my attorney heard that my father trusted Sirius Black with the location of their hiding place. And that Black was the person who got me out of the wreckage, before sending me to Dumbledore. If he worked for Voldemort, why would he do that?"

Harry indicated the letter. "Well, according to this...Sirius Black has no trial record. In fact, so far as my attorney has been able to discover, he never got a trial at all." Harry folded the letter, and frowned. "They just...assumed he was guilty, and tossed him into Azkaban.

"I don't think Black is after me. I think Black is after whoever got him sent to prison without a trial."

Ron nudged Harry. "Here comes trouble." He pointed towards the doors of the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy, along with his usual retinue—Goyle, Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson—had just come in. Malfoy spoke briefly to his entourage, then walked alone towards Harry.

"Potter. A word?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, then to Ron. "Sure, Malfoy." He stood, tucking the envelope into his robes, and walked a few steps away from the table.

Malfoy scowled at him, then said, "What made you jump between me and the Hippogriff?"

Harry shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "I didn't want to see you get mauled."

"Why not?" Draco's scowl deepened, his voice dripping with disdain. "I'd want to see it happen to you."

"Would you, though?" Harry's voice carried a touch of skepticism. "I doubt even you're that callous."

"I overheard my parents talking this summer," Draco continued abruptly. Harry was taken aback by the sudden change in topic. "My father says you claimed that the Dark Lord was a half-blood."

"He is," said Harry.

"Do you have any proof of that?"

"No," admitted Harry. The frustration burned in him. "I had to destroy the proof to stop him."

"...What?" Draco scowled. "What do you mean, stop him?"

"He was trying to come back, and I had to stop him," said Harry. "Didn't your father mention that part? He put a diary in Ginny Weasley's books. That day, in Diagon Alley, when he got into a fight with Mr Weasley. That diary used to belong to Voldemort—or Tom Riddle, as he was known back then. Riddle used it to possess Ginny, and to release the Basilisk. And he would have killed her, to bring himself back to life, if I hadn't killed the Basilisk."

"Father gave this diary to the Weasley girl?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Ron beat Voldemort, though, while I was fighting the Basilisk." He lowered his voice. "What does it say about the champion of the Pure-Blood cause, when he's defeated by Ronald Weasley...or by a half-blood toddler, like I was the first time?" He paused. "I've beaten Voldemort three times now. Wonder if I get a prize?"

"Father gave the diary—" Draco broke off, and shook his head. "I need to think about this." He looked up. "When you see Tomoe next, tell her thank you for me." He rubbed his arm. "And...thanks for saving me." He smirked. "Don't worry, though. I'm still gonna destroy you in our game next month."

"I look forward to the attempt," replied Harry.