AN: So, this is me making up for nine months with no updates, with nine daily updates in a row. That's finished now, so don't expect such frequency any more. I won't tell you what frequency you should expect, because as we all know I break all of my promises, but I'll try for something reasonable.

This is also where we get into Book 3 territory. Ahoy a more grown up Harry! I've been looking forward to you for a long, long time.

-hp-hp-hp-hp-

When Ron Flooed in to Travers Manor one Thursday afternoon in late July, he was holding a copy of the Prophet in his hand, something that was not exactly common for him. Harry gave him a questioning look.

"You're not the only one the papers write about anymore," Ron said with a grin, and stuck it under his nose.

To Harry's astonishment, there was a picture of The Burrow, all of the Weasleys standing in front of it, including their numerous pets. The headline above it said MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE.

"Wow, Ron, congratulations!"

"Thanks! It's pretty awesome. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it is going to go into house renovations, but we'll each get a small gift out of it, my parents said. I'm trying to decide what to go for. Any tips?"

Neville emerged from the fireplace at that moment, and so he was presented with the paper as well and the boys headed to the gardens to discuss the possibilities. "I'd tell you to get a two-way mirror," Harry said, "but that's mostly self-interest, really. And I guess we can speak all the time most of the year, so...A new broom is another option, obviously."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "I would prefer the broom, but the thing is, we were given a fifteen galleon limit on this – well, all of us except Percy, who can you believe it is a bloody Head Boy so he can go over the top of course - , and well, it's not like I can get a decent broom for fifteen galleons."

Harry, who was not really surprised at Percy being named Head Boy at all, considered the matter. "Hmm...maybe you could make a deal with Ginny and share your broom? But it's true that thirty galleons isn't much better as far as brooms go. So pull Fred and George into it, too? Though four people per broom is really quite a lot..."

"I'm not sharing anything with Fred and George," Ron said decidedly. "They'd just use it to pull pranks." He paused. "And...with Ginny?" He seemed surprised by the idea. "I know she started to fly recently, but..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly. It's like you haven't seen her at Dean's birthday party. Your sister loves to fly, and I bet she'd really like to have a new broom. Not sure about sharing it with you, though." He considered. "It's a pity your birthday was in March, really, otherwise I'd say you could suggest you'd pay your share of the broom and the rest will be a gift..."

Ron contemplated this proposal. "Actually," he said slowly, "Ginny's birthday is in August. If we put our share of the winnings together, and my parents paid the rest as her birthday gift...that could work!"

"Yeah, but then the broom would be mostly hers, don't forget that."

Ron shrugged. "It's not like she flies that much."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

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Like last year, Harry was to have one small party for his friends at Travers Manor and then one large, official one. This year, however, because of a scheduling conflict with another Ancient House party, the order would be switched, so that his official one fell on his actual birthday and the smaller was was a day earlier. Thus Harry came down the stairs on the 30th of July in an extremely cheerful mood, looking forward to seeing all of his Hogwarts friends. He ruffled Wynn's hair as he sat down and loaded his plate full of bacon, and Alexandra smiled at him, attempting to convince her son to eat some more breakfast. Alduin appeared shortly after Harry, just in time to take the fresh newspaper as it appeared.

And then, he let out a muffled sound that was somewhere between a scream and a groan.

"What is it?" Alexandra asked immediately, alarmed.

Alduin slowly lowered the papers. "Sirius Black," he said, looking at Harry, "escaped Azkaban."

The bacon suddenly tasted like dirt in Harry's mouth.

"What?" Alexandra said, incredulous. "How?"

"No one knows, apparently," Alduin said, scanning the front page quickly. "They discovered he was missing early this morning. They have no idea where he is, and urge everyone to be extremely careful as they look for him."

"Do you think they'll find him soon?" Harry asked, still in a daze.

"I don't have much hope," Alduin replied. "No one has managed to escape Azkaban before. If he can do that...hiding somewhere is much easier. What is truly troubling, though, is...why now? He's been in prison for twelve years. What changed, to make him escape? Is it perhaps connected to Riddle's recent reappearance? Did he manage to find a way to Azkaban and possess his loyal servant, for instance? This worries me a good deal."

That, Harry thought, was putting it very mildly. The two men most responsible for the death of his parents joining their powers once again...it didn't just worry him, it made him angry. That was the emotion slowly pushing its way through his shock: cold fury, of a kind he had never known before.

Sirius Black, the man he hated perhaps even more than he hated Riddle, was free.

Harry's mind kept churning over it, and the only thing it came up with in response was rage.

Mr. Kingsley Flooed over just as they were finishing breakfast and disappeared with Alduin into his study for a time. Alexandra left the table to go play with Wynn, but Harry stayed, for the first time since he came home not even being in the mood for that.

Suddenly, he understood what Neville meant when he said he wanted to go after the Lestranges if they ever escaped.

As long as Black was in Azkaban, Harry could make his peace with the traitor somehow, but him being free? That was unacceptable.

When Alduin returned from his talk with Mr. Kingsley, he looked even more grim than before. He sat back down at the table heavily.

"Harry," he said. "There are worse news. From what the Azkaban guards said, Black kept muttering to himself before his escape. He kept saying 'he's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts'. They think...they think he's going after you."

Harry sighed. He really should have expected that, shouldn't he? Riddle tried to kill him twice already. Why should his devoted followers have different priorities?

Really, in light of the fact that Black was free, this seemed like a small thing. So someone was trying to kill him again. Big deal. It didn't make him half as angry as the fact of the escape.

"This might be a confirmation of my theory that Black is possessed," Alduin added. "How did he find out now, why did he only realize now? Did Riddle bring him the information? It seems possible. We'll have to tighten your training regimen, Harry. This is very serious."

Alduin clearly wasn't the only one to think so. When his friends started to gather in the afternoon, for the party, it turned out Seamus wouldn't be coming.

"His mother won't let him," Alduin, who'd received the Floo call, explained. "She's afraid to let him out of the house now that Black is on the loose. I tried to convince her the Manor is very secure, but to no effect."

Dean was frustrated by the news when he heard, and asked to use the Floo to at least call his friend. He had been looking forward to meeting him here. The others were less concerned, and to them, Black's escape was mostly just sensational news.

The guest list was almost the same as last year, with the addition of Su, whom Harry now knew and who was, after all, Hermione's good friend as well as Ron's regular chess partner. The speculation was wild about the possible ways of escape especially. It took much of Harry's self-control not to share Alduin's theory of possession – and not to get irritated with some, like Sophie or Fred and George, who seemed to treat the matter extremely lightly.

Others were serious, though, Hermione and Neville among them. They appeared to realize the gravity of the situation. Only those from Ancient families were able to appreciate certain other kind of implications, though.

"He wasn't just some convict," Horatio said to the few interested in listening to him over the wild theories some of the Gryffindors were sprouting. "He was a Black. His escape has a number of implications there. While he cannot sit on the Wizengamot, he is still heir to his family fortune, and the rightful head of his family, one of the families that were thought to have died out for good. If he is not captured...if he has a child...this could influence many things."

"This will affect people related to him, too," Daphne muttered, giving a fleeting look to Draco. "Black's crimes are dragged up again, recalled to people's memory...it will harm a lot of people."

Draco only scowled in response, but Harry knew enough to realize it was true. "There are going to be insinuations in the paper," Horatio agreed, "about providing protection and such."

"Who does it concern? Beside the obvious, I mean?" Harry asked, trying hard not to look at Draco.

"Well...his great-grandfather was Gregory Crabbe, and great many members of our generation of the Ancient families are descended from him," Horatio said hesitatingly. "But...the papers are unlikely to go for the more distant relations when closer ones are on hand."

"And the only other cousins are the Weasleys and the Tonkses, who are obviously out of the question, so..." Daphne trailed off meaningfully.

Hearing all this, Harry used the first opportunity he had to speak to Draco alone. "This," he said, "sucks. It sucks hard."

"You don't know the half of it," Draco replied, sounding truly angry, as angry as Harry thought only he felt about this. "I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you that Sirius never even got a trial, so we don't know he's actually guilty of the stuff they accuse him of."

"What?"

"Yeah. He was just stuffed into Azkaban – the most horrifying prison in the world – without a trial, and now they're going to use his name to drag our family in the papers." Draco curled his hands into fists. "I hate this so bloody much."

Harry frowned. "Listen, you don't know everything either, and yeah, I can't quite tell you, but I really do think he was guilty. I mean, I'll ask my cousin, but...they have some pretty good indication, from what I've heard."

"Yeah, they had to have that before they arrested him, but since when is that enough? Isn't everyone supposed to be guaranteed a right to fair trial? Isn't this in the Magna Carta or something?"

It was, in fact. Harry had just studied that last year.

"You're right," he said. "Even if he was guilty, there should have been a trial. If only to avoid any doubts."

"Not that people seem to have any doubts," Draco muttered.

It was true. The day later, during the big party, Black's escape was the talk of the day as well, and not one mention of the missing trial was made. Harry noticed a few people giving the Malfoys strange looks, too. One man decides to escape from prison, he thought grimly, and complicates so many lives…his anger was getting stronger every day.

This time, he actively tried to find other topics of conversation, feeling too frustrated and enraged by the escape already. Fortunately, the Hogwarts letters arrived that morning, so he could at least congratulate Abdulaziz, Astoria and Harriet on this final confirmation of their Hogwarts future.

"I mean, it's not like I ever doubted," Abdulaziz said with mock pomp Harry suspected just might be mimicking Edmund a little, "but it's nice to have the letter all the same."

Harry also used the opportunity to discuss the chance to visit Hogsmeade with his fellow third-years.

"I've heard," Ernie said in his usual self-important tone of voice, "that Hogsmeade visits are chiefly important for dating couples. Is that true?"

"I hope not," Neville muttered.

Kiara, the oldest person present at the moment and thus their best resource, shrugged. "I mean, yeah, it's the only place where you can go on dates, basically, so people who date usually use it for that. But it's not like you can't go there without a date or anything."

"Have you ever taken a date there?" Harry asked curiously.

"That's none of your business," Kiara replied loftily.

"See?" Harry said, turning to the others. "That's the fourteen year old disease striking again."

There were other congratulations than just to future first years to be offered, too.

"So, which one of you got to be the prefect?" He asked Roger and Horatio when he saw them.

Horatio grinned. "I did," he replied, "Roger is the new Quidditch captain."

"Wow, cool! Congratulations to you both, then."

"Thanks. Being a prefect might be quite a handful this year, actually, if the rumours are true and security at Hogwarts is going to be tightened..."

And they were back to Black's escape again. No other topic lasted long, really, but Harry still made another valiant attempt with the birthday gifts. There were piles of the usual clothes and books and displayers, but nothing too conversation worthy, so he was beginning to worry his plan would fail. The two-way mirror from Daphne gave him more hope, though he also dreaded that the conversation there would come with teasing comments – in fact, the moment he unwrapped it, Ron had wolf-whistled, which gave Harry a taste of what was to come and at the same time made him despair of his friend ever getting the handle of etiquette. Still, he would take teasing over joking about Black.

It was when he reached the broom-shaped package that he got really excited, and even forgot about his plans for conversation topics. Would he get a Nimbus 2001? Did Alduin realize that as a Seeker, he really needed that fast a broom? He tore the wrapping off...and stared in astonishment.

It was a broom he had never seen in his life, but so sleek and beautiful he couldn't believe it, with the word Firebolt written on the handle.

He turned his incredulous eyes to Alduin. "What is this?" He asked.

"The newest racing broom," Alduin replied with a smile. "All the reviews are praising it to the heavens, so I hope you'll enjoy it as well. It only came out a few days ago."

Harry was speechless.

Some others, however, were less so.

"Firebolt?" Ron exclaimed. "You got a bloody Firebolt? Merlin, yes, yes! Gryffindor's never going to lose another match again!"

Draco didn't look like this news particularly improved his already miserable day.