Summary: Fifth year Curses, capers and Quidditch abound as the boys enter their OWL year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Snape is on the prowl, foreign wizards are descending on the school, and this year had better be the year they become animagi - or Sirius will *explode*. But when the boys find evidence of a Death Eater plot happening right beneath their noses, they realise that the time for innocence is over, and the war has finally entered the castle for real.

Fifth Year

Chapter One: Badges of Honour

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the ramshackle, little cottage on the Welsh border. The path leading up to the house was baked dry and dusty in the heat, the leaves of the trees were starting to wilt and, though Lyall Lupin, had used the water charm "Aguamenti" on the lawn, just that morning, the grass was already becoming yellowed and parched.

Lyall himself had retreated to the dim shade of the living room and cast a cooling charm, however his fifteen year old son, Remus, was still outside and lying in the flower beds.

At fifteen years old, Remus was in the middle of a growth spurt and now nearly six feet tall. His shoulders were broadening but his limbs were still a little gangly, like a colt not quite sure of his feet. His hair and eyes were brown and he would consider himself totally unremarkable looking (and be happy to be so) if it were not for the scars - a few of which raked across his face, but most of which were scratched deep and purple, or fading and silver, into his chest.

He hated it when people stared at his scars (especially when they were fellow wizards, and he was worried they would figure out he had them because he was a werewolf, and had been one since he was five), but thoughts of other people were not why he was currently hiding in the flower beds. They were, after all, too remote, here on the Welsh border, to worry about nosy neighbours, prying into their business and asking questions about whether or not a flower bed was the cleanest and comfiest place to take a lie down.

The only person he was currently hiding from was his father, and it was more that he was lurking guiltily rather than hiding .

In an hour or so it would be time for the Twenty Two Minutes Past Eight News, but Lyall often put the wireless on a little earlier in the evening to listen to the programming beforehand. Today there was going to be a panel of the Heads of Department at the Ministry of Magic discussing what they thought should be done about "the current emergency situation".

("The current emergency situation" was the euphemism the Ministry had come up with to describe what was actually a war, between a dark wizard called Lord Voldemort and his followers, and everyone else.)

The reason Remus was lying in the flowerbeds was that he was hoping, this close to the house and with the window open a crack, he would be able to listen in to the panel and then to the news without his father being any the wiser. Lyall did not like Remus listening to the news, as it was too upsetting and he did not want Remus to worry. He particularly wanted to protect Remus from hearing anything harsh that might be said about his fellow werewolves, as one of the ways the Ministry was tackling "the current emergency situation" was by clamping down on them.

However, although Remus knew his father meant well and only wished to protect him, he believed that - at fifteen - he did not need protecting. He wanted to know what was going on in the wider world, he found it more worrying when he was left in the dark. He wanted to listen to the reports of recent deaths (as grisly as they were) and know that his own three great friends: Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were not among them.

And so he had found this hiding spot and was prepared to lie in it for hours and hours, until the news was done and he could go in and pretend he had got all muddy doing something rather more wholesome… he would have to think of what that was later.

From inside the house came the crackle and fizz of the wireless being switched on, and then a lady's voice said (in very plummy tones):

Welcome listeners to our "Peace Talks" panel, in which myself and the panellists will be discussing the best ways to bring peace to our little nation once again. But first, introductions - I am the chairwitch, Bralenda Hopkirk, and I'm joined by the Heads of Department of Magical Law Enforcement (Bartemius Crouch), Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (Hector Abbott), Department of International Magical Cooperation (India Ames) and, replacing the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes today we have the Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports (Jacob Scrabble).

There were murmurs from the wireless, as the Heads of Department thanked Ms. Hopkirk for her kind introductions. Remus shifted position a little, propping himself up on his elbow, and hoped he wouldn't get a cramp.

'I think it would benefit us all, if we started out by each outlining our position on how we can resolve our current situation.'

Ms Hopkirk said.

'Mr. Crouch - if you would be so kind as to go first.'

There was the sound of a throat clearing, and the shuffling of papers and then Mr. Couch said:

'Thank you, Bralenda. As you will all be aware, I am new to this position, having inherited it from our now Minister for Magic, Mr. Minchum. However I have had time to get to grips with the situation and it seems to me that finding and apprehending… well… You Know Who is the only way we can put a stop to the ongoing emergency. To that end, we must put all our efforts into chasing down his so-called Death Eaters until one of them gives us a lead.'

Hector Abbot, of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures interrupted here.

'I agree entirely with Barty's premise, but perhaps think our methods could differ. The Death Eaters may prove as wily as their master and - as wizards - will require a higher standard of proof to convict. It is my belief that concentrating on the dark elements among magical creatures; the goblins, the werewolves, the hags… we can gather the information we need to capture the - well - You Know Who and his followers and not come unstuck when it is time to take them all to trial.'

Mr. Crouch coughed.

'With respect, it would be my department both making the arrests and putting the case before the Wizengamot. We would make sure our cases were ironclad and curseproof…'

'Oh - I didn't mean to undermine you, Barty - not at all. But you must admit, goblins are easier to catch than Death Eaters. And, if they know what is going on, we can use better methods of - er - "persuasion" to make them tell us.'

It was Bralenda Hopkirk's turn to cough:

'Perhaps we can hear from the Department of International Magical Cooperation now.'

In his flowerbed, Remus glumly considered the fact that all these high ranking Ministry officials clearly didn't know what to do and didn't have a plan. "Peace Talks" was all for show, to keep the nervous citizens calm but, even here, the Ministry couldn't hide their squabbling, backstabbing, prejudice and the fact they were all running around like headless hippogriffs.

'Thank you, Bralenda,'

Ms. Ames was saying.

'I think, in these dark times it is important to remember that - though Britain is an island - we are not alone. He Who Must Not Be Named is terrorising our lands, but we have friends across the sea who can help us - if only we reach out to them. We must make our reach greater than You Know Who's…'

'Precisely that!'

She was interrupted excitedly by Jacob Scrabble, of the Department for Magical Games and Sports.

'In order to win, we must build bonds of friendship - and we must look farther afield than the Dark Lord is currently doing. And I am a firm believer that there is no better way of building friendships and getting to know one another than through the healthy and friendly competition that only sports and games can bring…'

In his flowerbed, Remus heard Lyall get to his feet and shuffle off out of the living room. The wireless droned on, but nothing interesting was said. And then, the footsteps returned and - without warning - the window right above Remus's head was thrown wide open.

'Remus! Remus! Where are you?' Lyall shouted out into the garden.

Remus attempted to stand up, and immediately cracked his head on the window frame. 'Ow!'

'What in Merlin's name were you doing down there?' Lyall asked in bemusement, reaching out to rub the sore spot on Remus's head. 'You daft apeth.'

Remus blushed. 'I - er … I was listening to the wireless.'

'In the flowerbeds?'

'...Yes.'

'I see… Well, come on - an owl just arrived at the kitchen window with your Hogwarts letter. I want you to open it.'

'It's just a book list,' Remus grumbled, as he climbed out of the flowerbed and, still rubbing his head, made his way up the path to the front door. But, once he arrived in the house, he saw that Lyall's eyes were twinkling.

'The envelope feels heavier this year… I think there's something else. I think… No, no, open it and see.'

It was now Remus's turn to feel bemused, but he humoured his father and took the envelope and ripped it open. He found, as normal and expected, his list of books for the year and any other equipment he might need (though why he might need dress robes was a mystery to him). But, once he handed that to his dad, he found there was another letter still inside. He took out the parchment and shook it out, and his eyes widened in surprise as he read:

Dear Mr. Lupin,

It is my great pleasure to inform you that you have been chosen as the new Gryffindor prefect for the school year commencing September 1st 1975. This is an honour bestowed on you which I hope you will take seriously. I am sure you will prove a great credit to our school. Please find enclosed your prefect's badge, and report to the prefects' carriage when you board the Hogwarts Express to be given further instructions.

Many Congratulations!

Yours Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of wizards

P.S. Remus, I took the liberty of making a gold badge and enchanting it to look silver for your particular circumstances. I hope this workaround will prove satisfactory.

Still not quite sure he believed what he had read, Remus rooted around in the envelope and found what was weighing it down. Sure enough he pulled out a silvery badge with a "P" emblazoned on it. He turned it over in his hand. 'Dad, look!'

'I knew it!' Lyall took the letter from Remus, and his eyes filled with tears as he read it. 'What a great man Dumbledore is - how much we owe him… and how far you have come! Look at you! We didn't think you could even go to school and now here you are: prefect!'

He pulled Remus into a hug. 'I just wish your mother was here to see this. She would be so proud.'

…

The summer in Cokeworth had been pretty unbearable, mostly because of the heat - which funnelled down the narrow streets and baked everything dry, partly because of Tuney - who had been nervously awaiting her O Level results and driving everyone up the wall with her anxious cleaning, as she sought to distract herself, and also because of Sev, and how distant he was becoming.

He hated being trapped in this grimy, muggle town, Lily had always known that - but this summer in particular he was like a bear with a sore head, and though she kept trying to spend time with him, he was acting all secretive and kept pushing her away. It was like trying to wrestle the giant squid, every time she ducked under one tentacle, he slapped her back with another.

They'd had yet another falling out a couple of weeks ago (they seemed to fall out more often than they were friends these days), when they had walked past the playground and he had called the children playing there "dirty muggles" (admittedly some of them weren't the cleanest - but she knew he wasn't referring to scraped knees and scuffed shoes, or even runny noses).

'They're only children,' she had said to him.

'They're muggles. They're nothing.'

'Sev… they're people. Just because they don't have magic… Other than that, they're just like us.'

'They are nothing like us!' His eyes had flashed dangerously. 'We are better than them, Lily, better . You just don't want to believe it because your family are muggles too.'

'And because the other people who think like you think I'm not worth a damn either,' she had replied coolly. 'Because I'm muggleborn.'

'Well they're wrong, aren't they? You're nothing like the other mud… I mean, you have loads of magic, you're a brilliant witch.'

But the damage was done; she had heard what he had almost said, and her eyebrows hit her hairline and she had stormed away, as he called after her - sounding increasingly annoyed and desperate. She had ignored him for a week, following that - but had returned to him in the end. If she didn't keep trying with him, he would be lost to the Death Eaters. Severus was her oldest friend, she owed it to him to keep trying to get through. He needed her, even if he didn't know it.

Then Tuney's O Level results had arrived, and she had done quite well - well enough to be accepted into secretarial college and, crowing with triumph that she was the one who got to leave Cokeworth behind for once, she had packed all her clothes and her typewriter into a suitcase and had been driven by their father over to the larger town of Dudley, where her new college was. She was lodging in the spare bedroom of an old lady, and sent typewritten letters home every other day (sent through the muggle post and not by owl) describing her classes, and how exciting being in a big town like Dudley was, how sophisticated it was, how posh the shops were and how she spent her evenings going out "with the girls" (though she had a strict curfew of ten o'clock, from the old lady - and was allowed no boys in her room under any circumstances).

It should have been a relief to have Petunia gone; the house should have felt like it had more space; Lily should have felt freer without those pale, baleful eyes watching her wherever she went, should have felt more comfortable now she no longer had to endure those accusing, bitter silences. And yet somehow - now she was gone - Petunia seemed to fill up even more of the house than she had when she was here, manically cleaning the oven.

With her frequent letters detailing her adventures a world away from Cokeworth, and her parents' proud and almost constant talk of how she was going to be a great success and make something of herself, Petunia seemed to loom larger inside the house than she had ever done when she was really here. Her presence was intangible but undeniable. There were moments when Lily found herself wondering if this was what it had been like for Tuney all these years, with Lily at school - her room empty, her place at the table bare - and yet taking up all the space nevertheless. But then she dismissed these thoughts as the sort of silly and romantic notions that Petunia would never have in a hundred years. Petunia was not the type of person to have fanciful thoughts about people who were not there.

But Lily was and, though she certainly did not miss her sister, she did miss her sister not being the only topic of conversation in the household. It might be worth having Tuney back just so she could go away again; fade into the background.

Better still though, would be the start of September and the chance to go back to Hogwarts… just as long as she had managed to get through to Sev in that time.

She was sitting at her desk, glumly detailing all her thoughts into her diary, when a tapping sound at the window made her turn around. There was a brown barn owl pecking to be allowed in and - from the collar he was wearing - she knew he had come from school. She dashed to the window and brought him inside (her own snowy owl, Brunhilde, hooted disdainfully and did not seem happy to have to share her private domain with this interloper), and then took the letter from him. He flew to Brunhilde's perch and took a sip of water (Brunhilde hooted at Lily as if to ask her what she was going to do about this) and then took off again, soaring out of the window.

Lily frowned. The envelope was heavier than usual. She ripped it open and stared in amazement as a silver prefect's badge fell out into her hand and then she rooted in the envelope for the letter which accompanied it, not quite daring to believe. (She had caused rather a lot of trouble around the school in the years she had been there; her misdemeanours including but not limited to: smoking, graffitiing, swimming in the black lake and shaving James Potter's head one night while he slept. Dumbledore, however, seemed to have overlooked all this and sent a badge to her anyway. But without a letter addressed specifically to her, she still thought there was a good chance it was a mistake.)

The first letter was just the normal book and equipment list and she threw that aside with barely a second glance (sparing only a moment to wonder what dress robes were and why she would need them) but underneath was a second piece of crisply folded yellowing parchment and - on perusal of that - she discovered that Dumbledore had really meant the badge to come to her.

She still wasn't quite sure she believed it. But she grabbed the letter and badge, and ran down the stairs, out of the front door and all the way to Sev's house. She banged on his door, and tumbled inside when he opened it. 'Look what I got, look what I got!' she said breathlessly, shoving the badge into his hand. 'Has your letter arrived? Did you get one too?'

Severus stared at the badge, and Lily's heart sank as she saw his expression - greed and jealousy and disappointment - and realised he had not been made the Slytherin prefect that year.

'Sev - I'm sorry - I should have thought…'

'Doesn't matter,' Severus said, shoving the badge back at her. 'Who cares about a shiny badge from a crackpot, old fool like Dumbledore? It's all political anyway. He probably only gave it to you because you're muggleborn.'

'Sev-'

'I bet he gave the boys' badge to the werewolf. Just to make a point.'

'Lupin's not a - you don't have any proof. Anyway - aren't you at least going to say " Congratulations "?'

Severus's lip had curled, and it seemed like he was just about to sneer a sarcastic "congratulations", when there was a loud bang from inside the kitchen, as if someone had just kicked a chair over, and then Mr. Snape staggered out into the hallway, clutching a bottle of beer.

'What's all the noise… oh - it's your freak friend.' He glowered at Lily. 'Don't know what I ever did,' he muttered to himself, 'to get a worthless freak for a son - a prancing pansy in a dress - bringing his worthless freak friends around here…What are you looking at?' he slurred belligerently at Lily.

Lily went bright red, dropped her gaze and murmured 'Nothing.'

'Get the little - witch bitch - out of here, you useless freak…'

'I should go.'

'I should go,' Mr. Snape mimicked her voice, making his own high pitched and mocking. 'GET OUT!' he started towards her, but - before he reached them - Severus had opened the door and bundled her through. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him, they heard the sounds of Mr. Snape blundering into it and swearing. They both ignored him.

'Sev-'

'Just - go home, alright? Don't come back here. I'll meet you after dark. At the playground, same as normal.'

'They're… they're not all like your dad, Sev.'

Severus blushed bright red and looked outraged, but said nothing and simply returned inside and slammed the door in Lily's face.

Walking home, her prefect's badge still clutched in her hand but her bright mood very much deflated, Lily supposed she had handled the situation badly. She wasn't getting through to Severus, and she hated to think of what would become of him if she failed.

…

Sirius Black lay across his bed, on his front - a quill in his hand and his tongue poking between his teeth as he concentrated. His wand was tucked behind his ear, having just used it to lock his bedroom door so none of his ghastly family could get in to him.

He had spent most of his summer hiding in his bedroom and, as his family hated him almost as much as he hated them, they had had little cause to complain. It had been a dull summer though, brightened only by letters from James and the days he had spent decorating the silk, grey walls with photographs specifically designed to drive his mother mad, once she found out what he had done.

He had had Gryffindor banners stuck up ever since first year, using a permanent sticking charm so his parents could not take them down once he was away at school. But Remus had given him a motorcycle magazine for his last birthday, and he now had pictures of muggle bikes torn from the pages and stuck to the walls.

Part way through the summer, James had rather excitedly sent him a magazine of his own, which he said he had found under a hedge (Sirius was not sure what James had been doing under the hedge in the first place).

It's brilliant, isn't it?

James had written in his familiar scrawl in the letter which accompanied it.

I thought you'd want to see…

Sirius had stared rather bemusedly at the magazine, which was filled with muggle photos of muggle girls, posing in nothing but their muggle underwear and a smile - and wondered why on earth James would think he would want to see something like that? But the possibility of infuriating Walburga was too tempting, and so the girls had been ripped out and stuck up as well.

There was also one wizarding photograph on his walls, not of his family (he shuddered at the thought) but of his friends. Sirius had charmed (not literally) Connie Bidwell into taking a photo of the four of them with Remus's camera during this past summer term, and now all four of them had a copy, and Sirius's was in pride of place - where his mother or father, or loathsome house elf, Kreacher, would spot it as soon as they slithered through his bedroom door: Sirius and his blood traitor friends.

And now - the piece de resistance of what he was trying to do to give his mother a heart attack - he was scribbling in his copy of Pense's Peerage .

Pense's Peerage was a book on wizarding nobility (Sirius's own entry was on page 394) which he had been given way back in the mists of first year and hated ever since. Last Christmas he had learned the very interesting news that all copies of the book were magically linked, and any change made in one book automatically updated in all the others. To that end, Sirius had been "improving" his version of the book with crude drawings and swear words any moment he got a chance.

No one had noticed yet, but he could not wait for the fireworks when they eventually did.

Today he was just scribbling the words:

Is a knobhead

Next to the name

Anselm Malfoy

(1742 - 1836)

When a tapping at the window alerted him to the presence of an owl. He looked up and, immediately recognising Archimedes - the Potter's family owl, he scrambled off the bed and rushed to let him in. Archimedes was carrying an envelope which bore that same scrawl which had accompanied the pictures of half naked girls, and Sirius tore the letter open eagerly to see what it said.

We're going to Diagon Alley!

James had written, without preamble.

At least, me and Moony and Pete are, and you're coming with us no matter what that hideous, old hag of yours says. We're meeting at the Leaky Cauldron at twelve next Tuesday. Don't make excuses. And don't worry about gold - I'll pay. See you there!

James

P.S - are you enjoying your alone time with the girls?

Sirius did not understand what that last line meant, so he ignored it and instead, grabbed ink and parchment and dashed off a reply to his best friend, agreeing to see him on Tuesday.

And keep John safe for me!

He wrote.

No throwing him up in the air - I'll know.

(John was Sirius's pet puffskein, who stayed with James over the holidays in case Kreacher or Regulus did something foul to him while Sirius's back was turned.)

Then he petted Archimedes's beak, tied the letter on and sent him on his way, returning to Pense's Peerage with a big smile on his face.

…

The following Tuesday, Sirius sneaked out of his room - carefully glancing left and right for any sign of Reg or Kreacher - crept down the stairs, eased open the door to the kitchen and scuttled inside. It was empty, as luck would have it; Kreacher must be off snogging Walburga's bloomers or something; but he had no idea how long he would remain undisturbed and so - acting as quickly as he could - he grabbed a handful of sparkling floo powder from the vase on the mantel, threw it onto the flames (which wooshed up high and turned a bright, emerald green) and then stepped into the fire and pronounced "Diagon Alley!" as clearly as he could.

Several chimney stacks and bumped elbows later, he tumbled out onto the hearth of the famous Leaky Cauldron pub.

'Sirius!'

He just had time to glance upwards and catch a glimpse of scruffy hair and glasses before he was pounced on from a medium height (James was not tall) and pulled into an (affectionate) headlock.

'Gerroff - you'll mess up my hair! Gerroff you speccy git!'

'You're here! We thought you might not be able to make it! We thought your mum might have clapped you in irons and thrown you in her personal dungeon.'

'As if any dungeon could hold me… but, for the record, even my family aren't so nuts as to have their own dungeon in the house.'

'Oh, they just don't tell a filthy blood traitor like you about it, but it's there alright,' James said airily, as he dragged Sirius over to where the others were waiting. 'Look, he made it!' he exclaimed, pushing Sirius forward and showing him off like a trophy he had just won.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were there (Sirius was secretly quite pleased when Mrs. Potter gave him a hug) along with Mr. Lupin and Mrs. Pettigrew, as well as Remus and Peter, of course. The adults all had bulky packages with them, and it seemed like the various families had gone shopping in the morning to collect school supplies and now the adults were gathering for a long (and possibly boozy) lunch, while the boys were being given free reign to rampage all over Diagon Alley.

'Just don't cause too much destruction,' Mrs Potter said sternly. 'Any broken windows are being paid for out of your pocket money, Jimmy.'

'Mum!'

Everyone else laughed. Sirius felt a pang that his own family was not there, included in the party. Not that they would want to be, and not that he would want his awful mother and equally awful father to spend time with his friends' parents - they would only embarrass him by turning up their noses and saying horrible things… But he did wish he came from the type of people who could sit in the pub with the Potters and the Pettigrews and the Lupins, who could be on friendly terms with the families of his own friends. It would be nice, he often thought, to belong to decent people - and seeing the three families together only brought home to him exactly what he did not have.

Not that James was going to give him any time to feel sorry for himself. 'Right - we need ice creams, and a trip to Zonkos and…' he looked shifty.

'You're not going to Knockturn Alley,' his mother said.

'We're not going to Knockturn Alley,' James agreed dutifully. 'We're totally going to Knockturn Alley,' he mouthed at Sirius, who grinned. 'So, dad - money,' and he stuck out his hand towards Mr. Potter.

Mr. Potter groaned. 'What it is to be cursed with a mercenary son!' he complained cheerfully, as he patted down his pockets. His face fell. 'I'm all out,' he said.

'Dad!'

'Alright - here,' he took out his Gringotts key and handed it to James. 'Vault 687 - only 20 galleons mind you.'

'Yeah, yeah - come on, men.' And, with a careless wave at his parents, he ushered Remus, Peter and Sirius out of the back door and into the little yard that led into Diagon Alley.

…

The street itself was bustling and busy, noisy with hooting owls and chuntering crowds. The boys ducked and dodged their way down the cobbles, weaving their way past the barrels of dragon spleens outside the apothecaries and pulling up short at Madam Malkin's Fine Robe Maker's in order to press their noses to the window and make faces at Ellis Stebbins, their fellow fifth year, who was inside the shop, standing on a stool and being fitted with what looked like a very poncy set of pale blue robes.

'They must be his dress robes,' James said, pulling his ears out and crossing his eyes at Stebbins. 'What a tosser… Mine are red. For Gryffindor. Madam Malkin said red was an unusual choice, but I insisted.'

'Mine are grey silk,' Pete said. 'I liked some green ones but my mum said they made me look like a mossy boulder.'

That made the others laugh. 'At least you didn't have to get yours second hand,' Remus told him. 'Mine are OK, but there are patches on the elbows. And my dad says, if I keep on growing, they'll be too small for me by the time I have to wear them.'

'Ah - but are they velvet with a lacy collar?' Sirius asked.

'No, of course not!'

'Then you won't look like the biggest knob in the room. That honour will be reserved for me… and Reg. Sweet Merlin, we'll match! '

That made them all laugh even harder and, after making several rude hand gestures at Stebbins, they ran off down the road - still giggling. 'Why have we got dress robes this year, anyway?' Peter wanted to know. 'When did Hogwarts go formal?'

But they had no answers to this and - as they passed Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and got an eyeful of the three foot tall triple choco hot fudge sundae with strawberries and whipped cream Florean was levitating out to some waiting customers - they determined to waste no more time and to head straight to Gringotts without further delay, so they could get started on doing some shopping of their own.

Gringotts was right at the end of the street, the tallest building in Diagon Alley by far, and built out of snowy marble. The grand doorway was flanked by two goblins in scarlet uniforms, who raked suspicious eyes over the four unaccompanied boys as they walked inside (James gave them a cheery salute, but this seemed to do nothing to quash their misgivings).

There was more marble inside, and fluted columns supporting the magnificent ceiling, and goblins sitting at desks weighing and examining all manner of precious gems and piling them into sparkling heaps. The boys walked past a tall witch, with a sequined scarf wrapped around her dark hair, talking to a goblin in a rather dapper suit. Like the guards had done, she too eyed the little group suspiciously, and switched into speaking Gobbledegook as they passed her; and Remus could not shift the feeling that she had done that specifically so they would not understand what she had to say.

They were met with yet more suspicion when James presented his key to the bank teller, but everything was in order, and so they were (reluctantly) shown through the door which led to the stone flagged floors, rough hewn walls and flaming torches, and the underground rail network that took wizards to their vaults.

The Potter vault was several floors beneath the Lupin one, and so the breakneck, rattly journey lasted rather longer than Remus was used to and - by the time they had finished and emerged from Gringotts, blinking in the sunlight - he felt rather sick (judging by the green state of Peter's complexion, he was not feeling much better).

There was no time for nausea though, as James dragged them straight off to the ice cream parlour and bought them all one of the three foot high sundaes to share. They dug their spoons in and argued about where to go next.

James wanted to visit Zonkos, Quality Quidditch Supplies and Knockturn Alley - and not necessarily in that order. But Sirius cleared his throat and pointed at Slug and Jigger Apothecaries.

'We already have our Potions supplies,' James told him. But Sirius shook his head.

'You already have your legal Potions supplies,' he corrected. 'But not everything we do is on the right side of the law.'

The rest of them stared at him blankly, and he sighed. 'It's the full moon in a couple of days. Right? Remus? Right?'

'Right.' (If the Gringotts cart had made him feel sick, it was nothing compared to what the rattling had done to bones already aching in preparation of a painful transformation in two days' time.)

' Sooo - hear me out. We got to the Apothecaries, yeah? And we buy Mandrake leaves and the moth chrysalises, rather than get Pete to steal them - which we normally do. Then, and this is the brilliant part , we each put our Mandrake leaves in on Thursday - and take them out in September. I'm saying we don't bother to wait until we're back in school before we start trying to become animagi again. But, and this is the other brilliant part, we can then stay at school until the next thunderstorm - no going home for holidays or whatever - until we've finally done it. Because, if we don't manage it this year, I'll - well - I'll kill Snivellus, for a start, just to make myself feel better, and then I'll do something really drastic.'

And though Remus and Peter still had misgivings, James thought this was a most excellent idea and so - once the sundae was finished - they were given no choice but to follow Sirius and James into the apothecaries.

As always, it was musty and damp inside, and smelled strongly of rotten eggs. Remus did not need to collect any ingredients as he was not attempting to become an animagus (a wizard who could turn into an animal at will - as a werewolf, transformations were beyond his control, but his friends hoped to become animagi so they could spend the full moons with him), so he amused himself by swapping the sign for beetles eyes (five knuts a scoop! ) with the sign for dried elderberries ( as useful for making jam as making potions! ) and tangling up the bats' wings, which hung from the ceiling on strings.

Over at the counter, James had dug out the money and was buying three mandrake leaves and three Death's Head Hawk Moth chrysalises.

'Mandrake and moth chrysalises - If I didn't know better, I'd say you boys were trying to become animagi!' the apothecary chuckled.

James laughed along, and Sirius thumped Peter when he squeaked in fright, which earned them both a curious look from the shopkeeper.

And then, just as Remus was about to move a "careful - they bite!" sign from a barrel of venomous tentacular pods over to the jars of preserved pufferfish, the others were done and they left the shop, striding into the sunshine and happily contemplating what illegal thing they could get up to next.

The day was long - and the four of them were just getting started…

…

He was sitting completely still, and had been for some hours. Anyone observing him (if anyone had the temerity to observe him, which they did not) would think he was doing precisely nothing. But that was the problem with the lesser minds he was forced to surround himself with; the stooges, the flunkies, the useful idiots. They had no conception of higher things, and of how much could be achieved simply by sitting still.

This very moment, his body was here in this room, earthbound and unremarkable - but his mind - his mind was hundreds of miles away, flying through the centuries, as he followed the threads of ideas, needled at the knots of the unknown and stalked the footsteps of ancient magics, tracing what was lost to him.

He saw flashes, in his mind's eye, of his first and last kingdom, of those who built it and the secrets they laid into its very stones, and the precious artefacts they had forged, riches beyond galleons - and now, with his own added contributions, with worth beyond measure. He felt the hidden interior, deep inside himself, not heart or mind but both at once and something more, start to ache. He felt that terrible emptiness and monstrous loss that always came when he changed himself. But it was no matter. More change was necessary, and would come when he solved this problem.

The cup and the locket had fallen into his lap, unexpected but made all the more delightful because of it. The diadem… he had used his charm to locate that, and his triumph when he had unearthed it was indescribable. But the sword… Having found treasures belonging to the other three founders, he was determined to complete the set. To make something of Gryffindor's truly his, the way he had transformed the others. But the sword remained hidden to him and so he must be patient… and still… and analyse the problem one strand at a time until he found the solution…

There was a knock at the door, hesitant and a little afraid, which was at least gratifying, though the interruption was still unwelcome.

'Enter,' he called, ensuring his displeasure was evident in his voice.

The door creaked open and Dolohov crept inside, looking like a hunchback as he walked doubled up in a low bow. 'My Lord,' he whispered, 'I beg your pardon for the intrusion but I have news you will wish to hear.'

'I hope, for your sake, you are right.'

Dolohov cringed at the implied threat, and that warmed his heart - for what was life without fear? At least, without the fear of others?

'We have been visited by the goblin, Radrak,' Dolohov told him. 'I have brought him here to speak with you - if you will grant him an audience. I believe you will want to question him yourself.'

He nodded his head. 'Show him in.'

A goblin was brought before him, long fingered and cunning, the greed of its kind plain upon its face, and he wondered what the creature would want in recompense for its service - and whether it would be happy with how he paid it back for its deeds. He played with his wand, and wondered idly which curse he would use first, once he had extracted all he needed from this pitiful beast.

'My Lord,' the goblin said, his long nose almost touching the floor as he too stooped into a bow, 'it is an honour to stand in your presence. I bring you news I think you need to know… I have been told, just this day, how it is Dumbledore plans next to move against you…'

And, on hearing these words, Lord Voldemort put down his wand.