Last-chapter recap: Sirius and the Ravenclaws made it across the heavily spirit-laden waters of Kokiri Lake, running into a handful of professors dispatched from Hogwarts Castle along the way, Lupin among them. Meanwhile, Peter Pettigrew uses a blind spot in the Marauder's Map to slip around the professors searching for him and escapes, a tiny rat hidden in the wilds of Hyrule.

Content warning for a mental health crash, self-harm (head-bashing), and a mention of apathetic suicidality.

They'd lost him.

Sirius had found Pettigrew on a one-in-a-million chance that summer. If not for the Minister for Magic deciding to gloat, he never would have seen that rat with the missing finger. He had escaped Azkaban, swum through freezing waters and Dementor patrols to land, and scrabbled to survive for months. If not for his cousin, he'd be in a far worse state—possibly too addled to explain his innocence even to willing ears. Everything from his ability to keep the thought of his innocence intact to Draco restoring some of his health had pointed to him succeeding in his mission of vengeance.

And they'd lost him. Peter was off in the wind in an entire country that had no idea who he was or what he'd done. If they were to find him again, it would take another one-in-a-million chance. Sirius had already burned through all his good luck.

"Please don't do that," came Remus's gentle voice.

Sirius paused in banging his head against the wall. He'd stopped noticing the pain a while ago.

"I'm sure Albus has a plan to find him in the works," Remus said. "There must be some way. Don't lose hope."

At that, Sirius started laughing and couldn't stop. Don't lose hope? He'd had hope when he'd first gone to prison. The Dementors had absolutely loved that. For the first two years, he'd clung to the silly, naïve belief that someone, somewhere along the line, would notice the missing testimony in his case. He'd thought it was so obviously a rushed trial that the mistake would be caught. He'd sensibly given up that hope early on. From there, he'd preserved the thought of his innocence. Then, as he'd become more convinced that he deserved death nearly as much as Pettigrew, he'd focused on vengeance. That final thought hadn't had any hope for the Dementors to eat; he'd kept it in his head because the only truth he could be certain of was that Peter had to die.

Then that idiot Fudge had arrived and inadvertently brought hope to his obsession. Peter had to die, and Sirius could find him. Sirius had seen his godson, once so little and now so big, and more of that lightness had come back. Peter had to die, Sirius could find him, and Harry would know his parents had been avenged. When he'd awoken in the Lost Woods and then found himself developing a level of trust with the Ravenclaws that had most of them believing him when he told the unbelievable truth, that one thought had expanded further. Peter had to die, Sirius could find him, Harry would know his parents had been avenged, and Sirius would be able to live again.

Now he was back in prison and the Dementors and jeering Death Eaters were within his mind. He'd been foolish enough to hope, and now he was being punished for it. He'd never make that mistake again. Now he was back to "Peter must die" and nothing else. Peter must die. They had lost Peter and Sirius didn't know how to find him again. He had no truth to depend on anymore.

"Sirius, you're bleeding."

He laid his head still against the wall once more. "They lost him," he said. "I didn't find him for twelve years. They lost him in the perfect world for him to disappear into."

"And they'll find him again," Remus said firmly. "Now please, drink this. You've been bludgeoning yourself for who knows how long." He took a bottle of Red Potion out of his pocket and held it through the bars.

Sirius continued thinking his thoughts. How was he to kill Peter now? Scour the country for a relevant scrap of newspaper? Listen to the wireless for any mention of a wizard that even vaguely resembled Pettigrew? He didn't even know whether they had newspapers or radio here. How else could he find Peter? Walk around the entire country knocking on doors and asking if anyone had seen a particular man or rat?

They'd lost him, and Sirius would never find him. Peter would never die like he deserved.

A squeak of hinges signaled Remus opening the cell door.

"Sirius," the man said, suddenly next to him.

"Mmhm?"

"If you don't stop, I'll have to make you sleep for your own safety."

"Okay." Sirius didn't care what happened to him. He deserved it, whatever it was. Peter had escaped. Sirius hadn't avenged James and Lily. He'd failed.

"Sirius, we don't need Peter here to prove your innocence. You still have your memories and Albus has his Pensieve. You have people who believe you and want to see your name cleared. We could finally take your testimony—"

"Who cares?" Sirius asked. "That's not the point. Never was."

"Wh-What? But didn't you…What are you doing here, then? Why did you break out of prison?"

"To kill Peter."

There was a strained pause. "…To kill Peter, and then to what? Die yourself?"

Sirius shrugged. "Sure."

"Sirius, that's…Please don't do that to me." Remus pulled him into a hug. Sirius sat limply. He didn't deserve hugs. He'd failed at his one remaining purpose in life. Didn't Remus understand that?

"I've thought I was alone all this while, and then when you turned up in the Lost Woods and started telling your story, I realized I still had someone. Please, don't do this to yourself. If we don't find Peter, we don't find Peter. You can still live. Do you think James and Lily would want you to give up like this? They wouldn't have wanted you to devote your existence to the murder of one man. They'd want you to keep on going for them." Remus laid his forehead against Sirius's. "Don't you think Harry ought to know the godfather his parents believed in? Don't you think they'd want you to keep their legacy alive? Lily and James may be gone, but not without a trace. You and I remember them. Harry lives because his parents did their best to protect him. If you can't live for yourself, live for your friends and the people who want to live alongside you."

Tears burned in Sirius's eyes. "But how?" he asked brokenly. "Peter…I…He's been my one goal. My one thought. I imagined him dead, and I lived. But if he isn't dead and I can't find him, I don't-I can't…" He put his hand to the mass of blood-matted hair on the side of his head. The pain was setting in. "What do I do?"

"First, you drink this." Remus pulled back and held up the potion bottle.

Sirius drained it in a blink. The pain vanished. "What now?"

"When Dumbledore has everything ready, you'll prove your innocence to everyone. Then you'll talk to Harry. And Draco. And at times in between, you'll talk to your students."

"I'm not a proper professor—"

"You gained knowledge and you taught it to those who knew less. Is that not the same as what a professor like Trelawney does? You, at least, have more proof of your expertise."

Sirius chuckled hoarsely, recalling Draco's complaints over the woman's lack of prophetic talent and apparent nose-blindness to incense. "That isn't difficult."

Remus smiled. "Still, I'd say it counts. Now rest up for your big meeting. Properly, without hurting yourself, or I'll have to shake a magic toadstool over you."

"Yes, Mother." Sirius laid down on the thin mattress that had been provided for him. Remus pulled up his woolen blanket.

"I'll be watching you, you know," he warned as he walked back to the door. "No mischief allowed, or I'll have to break the rules and come in here again."

"As if you don't love mischief," Sirius mumbled into his blanket. He felt like syrup glooping over the bed. Exhaustion oozed from his pores. Bashing his own head in was hard work.

"Sleep."

Sirius took a few deep, slow, warm breaths, and then sleep swallowed him like Azkaban's dark waters.

At some point later—no windows meant no sense of time—Sirius was feeling a bit more lucid. He didn't think he was perfectly fine, and in fact had just been hit with a powerful reminder of how fragile his fledgling sense of reality was, but he was better. He was able to think clearly again. At least, it felt like he was thinking clearly.

"Say, what happened with your curse?" Sirius asked, leaning against the bars. "You never explained."

"Yes, because you had a nervous breakdown when we heard the news at the castle and you weren't in any state to hear it," Remus said. He chose a slice of apple from the plate they were sharing and took a bite.

"So, what's going on? Are you stuck with the eyes and teeth forever?"

"As far as I can tell. It isn't just those, either. The changes affect my voice and ears, too. I can howl just fine in human form now."

Sirius reached through the bars and took an apple slice. "Your ears?" He thought on it for a second, then perked up. "No way! You have wolf ears?" The mental image of his friend with a set of furry triangles flicking around on top of his head was absurdly adorable. "I want to see!"

Remus blushed, his shoulders hitching up. He put a hand over his hat. "It's awful. I can't imagine anyone hiring me after this."

Sirius sobered, suddenly reminded of the societal hatred his friend had faced on his own for all these years. He munched on fruit while he gathered his thoughts. "I'm sure that Dumbledore would understand if you explained," he said. "I remember most of when I was a dog, and the kids would talk about how good of a teacher you are—how interesting you make your lessons. Even Draco, which is high praise from him. He doesn't have respect for most people."

Lupin shook his head. "Regardless, I think this will be my one year of teaching," he sighed. "As much loathing as the word 'werewolf' inspired when I looked like a normal man, just imagine the panic of a registered werewolf permanently caught between forms! Not even Fenrir Greyback has managed that, and not for a lack of trying. No matter how compassionate Albus may be, staff-members like Severus or Argus wouldn't stand for it. And while I can honestly say that I'd like to never transform again, it would be a lie to claim I lack the capability." He flicked his fingers and conjured a black mask from thin air.

The mask was unnaturally dark, like a shadow with an occasional hint of porcelain shine. Stripes of simmering red-orange defined the features of a wolf. It was frozen in a painted snarl, the nose rippling and eyes flashing with hostility. Bared yellow fangs shimmered in the dim light of the dungeons. Sirius felt a chill at the sight of that mask. It felt ever-so-slightly like the Dementors. The level of malice it emanated was palpable.

"What is that?" he asked. "It's one of the Darkest things I've ever felt, and I grew up in a house full of such magic."

"It's a sliver of my curse," Lupin said, turning the mask over in his hands. "If I put it on, I'll turn into the wolf. The shadow-creature that stripped the magic from my blood was kind enough to leave out most of the curse's evil in this souvenir, however. I become the wolf, but I'm still myself. I don't even think I'm contagious in that form. It's just…me, released and yet safely contained. Better than Wolfsbane, since I can will the mask to come off."

"So you're…you're like an Animagus with extra steps," Sirius said slowly. Something like that would have been their dream, back in school. For Remus to be able to choose his transformations and be safe around other people would have been the first thing that he and James would have wished for if they'd gotten a visit from some folktale fairy, assuming it was impossible to lift the whole blood curse altogether. "Why did that spirit help you? Didn't he blow up the school?"

Remus shrugged. "He said he didn't want my curse getting loose in Hyrule. I suppose it was too evil for even him to let stand." He vanished the mask. The faint, humid stink of rot in the air went with it.

"This is the Light World. Their idea of evil could be different from ours," Sirius mused. "There really aren't any werewolves around here? What else have they managed to avoid? Dragon Pox? Vanishing Sickness?"

"They narrowly avoided an Inferius plague, thanks to that same shadow," Remus offered. "He elected to vivisect the mage who came up with it before he could cast the initial curse."

"Good," Sirius said with great feeling. He'd faced Inferi and ReDeads, and he'd prefer their numbers were kept to a minimum.

"I'd say cutting someone open on a table is going a bit far."

"I'd say it's just enough. You have no idea what kind of depths you'd have to go to as a wizard to craft something like that. My family library had a rare, ancient book about what it takes to craft an Inferius. Regulus and I dared each other to touch it when we were little, but we never did. It was bound in human skin and written on human parchment. Now imagine creating a contagion with the kind of knowledge you find in a book like that."

Remus shuddered. "Alright, I'll concede your point."

Sirius ate a couple more apple slices. He didn't recognize this breed. It was honey-sweet in a way reminiscent of a plum, perfectly crisp, and nicely juicy. He'd thought apples had to be sour and dry to have such a nice texture. "When do you think Dumbledore will come here?" he asked after swallowing a bite. "Today? Tomorrow?"

"If he hasn't collected your memory testimony by tomorrow, I'll hold his feet to the fire myself," Remus said fiercely. "It's cruel for them to lock you up like this."

"Hey, I've got a blanket, a clean bed, and good conversation. That's leagues above anything I had back in prison," Sirius said with a mirthless laugh. He'd been living the good life for the past few months—first as a pet, then as a guest, and now as a "prisoner". It beat living in the Shrieking Shack and eating out of garbage cans in Hogsmeade, which had been his original plan of action until Shadow Harry had caught him in that dark cave. "And I've got some great snacks, too! What kind of apple is this, anyway?"

Remus inspected the fruit's red-striped orange skin and yellow-toned flesh. "Not sure. I took these off of one of the trees outside. Albus is wary of the native flora, but I've seen a fair number of students smuggling these in from the side exits. They must regrow with remarkable speed, for the trees to still be so full."

"Huh. The apples the Deku Scrubs cultivate are all like Granny Smiths. Sour things are popular in Kokiri Court." Sirius ate another slice. "This is nice." He had a comfortable bed and clean robes, there were no Dementors here, and he got to share a snack with one of his best friends. Who would have thought he'd be able to live like this again?

Remus leaned against the bars between them. His shoulder was warm against Sirius's. "It is, isn't it?"

Ron paced, unable to sit still. He was rarely like this—restless energy was more of a Harry thing—but there were just so many things going on and he couldn't think.

Harry was apparently refusing to return to the castle until the teachers agreed not to smother him. Ron and Hermione couldn't reach him without the Gossip Stone he'd bought them, so the castle staff had effectively raised a wall between them and the Harrys. If the teachers kept this up, Ron would have to start considering ways to acquire brooms so he and Hermione could break out. She was thoroughly fed up as well; he didn't doubt she was having rebellious ideas of her own. Because honestly, what kind of repayment was this? Harry went out and solved the problem the teachers had been ignoring, and now he'd been forbidden from talking to his friends unless he let himself be trapped in the castle again? Ron would have expected that behavior from the Slytherins, not the staff! In fact, most of the Slytherins could grudgingly admit that Harry had done something good! It was only a few holdouts like Pansy Parkinson who firmly refused to believe that Harry was worthy of anything but their nastiest attitudes.

Everything to do with the Harrys had quickly been shoved down the news ladder, though. At the top was the fact that Scabbers was a Death Eater and he'd managed to escape. No one knew where he'd gone, and Ron doubted they'd find him. Pettigrew had a whole country of oblivious people to hide himself among and a wide wilderness to disappear into. After the first time he'd been discovered, he probably wouldn't make the mistake of staying in one spot for twelve years again. In other news, Sirius Black was in the dungeons to await some kind of trial. Since Veritaserum was off the table, what with Snape's ingredients being magically jumbled, Ron didn't know how else they could try him. The man was guarded by five teachers posted down the hall, one of whom was always right outside of his cell. As much as Ron wanted to talk to Black, even using the Invisibility Cloak wouldn't let him have that conversation without getting caught.

Hermione found it bizarre that Ron wanted to see the man after all his denials of Black's story. He did feel bad about that, now that he'd been smacked in the face with the real facts. Just thinking about how stubbornly he'd denied Black's version of the truth made him want to shrivel inside. Ron had been wrong a lot of times before, but this was something else. Without knowing, he'd been just as cruel as any of the Slytherins he hated.

Sirius Black presented a nexus of horrible implications. He was innocent and he'd still been locked up in Azkaban for over a decade. Hagrid had been innocent too, last year, but Dumbledore had quickly gotten him out. Black had been in there for almost the entirety of Ron's life. He hadn't been bailed out by Dumbledore. No one had reviewed his case and realized the court had thrown out important steps. If an innocent man like him could be given a sham trial and thrown in there to rot until he looked and sounded so crazy that no one wanted to believe him, could that happen to anyone? How many people in that torture pit didn't deserve to be there? Did the court system even work?

'Maybe not, if Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy can slither free,' he thought darkly.

"Aren't your legs tired yet?" Hermione asked. She sat on Harry's bed, transcribing music with Zelda's book laying open next to her. "You've been at it for half an hour. I've never seen you fret like this before."

"I have a lot of things to think about, alright?" he snapped. "And it's not like I have anything else to do."

"Homework? I remember assigning twenty measures of that Hardening Chant for everyone to practice."

"How can I do homework right now?!"

She sighed. "Well, I can't think of anything else—" She blinked at the open beastie-book as it flipped to a fresh page and words started scrolling across. "Oh, you're right! I'm an idiot! How didn't that occur to me?" She scooped up the book and beckoned Ron over. "Harry can speak to us through Zelda, just like Mr. Black has been communicating with the Headmaster. Zelda just got Blue's attention on the other side."

Ron brightened. "We can talk to him? Really?"

"Since she isn't writing with her hands, Zelda can transcribe in real-time," Hermione said as he sat down next to her.

"It's only one of the many benefits of mastering one's ghostly form," Zelda wrote proudly. "Along with being able to split one's attention several ways and multitask like you wouldn't believe. Hang on just a moment—Blue has gone to fetch a new friend of theirs."

A surge of jealousy flared in Ron's heart. While it was his own decision not to leave with Harry, he still didn't like the thought of his friend going on to make more friends without him. It was bad enough that Harry seemed to want Malfoy to join their group. "What's this guy's name?" he asked. "When did Harry meet them?"

"His name is Link, and the Harrys met him the day Vaati whipped up that storm," Zelda answered. "He's the version of Harry that resides here. If you were to meet him, it would be like seeing a Harry Potter whose family fed and loved him. It's remarkable!"

Ron leaned in closer to the book. "How do you know what's up with Harry's family?" he demanded in a whisper. Dean and Seamus were playing Gobstones on the other side of the room, with Neville sitting to the side to watch the mess. "Why would he tell you, but not us?"

"He hasn't told me anything; I'm simply old, bored, and observant," Zelda huffed. "His palms are covered in too-smooth burns that I can feel every time one of him picks me up and I can tell the difference between a child of naturally small stature and one who wasn't given what he needed to grow. If you saw him standing next to Link, you'd immediately know what I mean. You ought to consult that teacher, Lupin, about housing options now that Harry's godfather has become a possible out."

"Harry has a godfather?!" Ron and Hermione asked incredulously. Hermione went on to whisper, "Are you talking about Black?"

"Of course I'm—ah, now I remember. That conversation is written in the Headmaster's copy, not this one. Yes, he spoke of Mr. Black being your friend's godfather and he was fretting to Professor McGonagall over this godfather possibly starting a fuss to take the boy into his custody. I was involved at some point, through I'd have to flip through that copy to remind myself why. Professor Dumbledore tends to keep a copy of my book open either on his desk as he attempts to find my pages, or on a pedestal for another professor to read from. I don't think he understands that I can see and hear everything around me as long as any of the Bestiary's pages are exposed, which leads to me unintentionally eavesdropping quite a bit."

"Well, don't tell him!" Ron urged. "Who knows when that might come in handy?"

"Of course I wouldn't tell him! If he can't see my pages, there must be something I can't trust about that man. I never tell his proxies more than he asks for," Zelda said. "Oh, Blue has brought Link. I'll be switching to transcription now. Link will be looped in with a Hylian translation on their end."

"Hi, Ron, Hermione. How are you holding up?" Harry asked in Zelda's blue ink. "I hope Dumbledore isn't being too hard on you."

"Forget that, mate! How are you?" Ron asked. "You just fought a volcano!"

"And that was only the start of that day," Blue said dryly. "We fought a lot of crazy things. Most of us got shot with an arrow at least once, Green was eaten by a giant sand worm, I almost lost a foot in some lava twice, and Red got killed by a three-headed dragon. Brilliant, that was."

"I definitely don't wanna do that again," Red confirmed. "Getting killed, I mean. Most of the other stuff was pretty brill."

"Killed?" Link repeated as Ron and Hermione squawked the same question. "Did you use a fairy or a potion?"

"Yellow used a potion just in time," Harry said. "If fairies can revive us from near-death, too, we ought to look into those."

"Harry, how can you be so calm about dying?" Hermione asked with horror. "That isn't something to be blasé about!"

"Well, I didn't die all the way, otherwise the potion wouldn't have worked," Red admitted. "It wasn't that bad. Ignikanos—the dragon messing with the mountain—shot a hurricane at me. Since I had my skull knocked in, I don't remember it all that well. I might have had my neck broken, too?"

"Red, you're not helping," Yellow sighed. "Yes, some bad things happened, but we aren't hurt and we're doing well. We've rented a room at an inn and Green is getting sword lessons from a ninja we met in town. His name is Avoka, and he seems to be this world's version of Draco Malfoy. They're really different, but similar in weird ways. They're both really into discussing deals and whatnot. You know, that 'favor' stuff that rich people do."

"His name is 'Avoka'? Like an avocado?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "And did you say he's a ninja? As in, there's a version of Malfoy named after a fruit who became an antiquated Japanese assassin?"

"Not assassin—palace guard," Link said. "Different division."

"He's kind of loud to be an assassin," Harry agreed. "Always seems to have a knife on him, though, for some reason."

"For threatening," Link told him. "He does that."

"Yellow, I know you were redirecting us away from the topic of Red dying," Hermione said, circling back. "Don't think we'll let that go so easily. What on earth happened on Death Mountain? What have you been doing?"

"What have you been doing? Zelda told us all kinds of crazy things are going down at the castle," Harry countered.

"Scabbers was really a murderer in disguise like Black said? How did that happen?!" Red demanded. "He would have had to pretend to be an animal for twelve years! That's such a long time!"

"You'd think he would have done something to reveal himself before now, if the regular magical diagnostics that familiars undergo didn't suss him out," Blue commented.

"And all the people trapped in the Lost Woods made it back to the castle!" Harry exclaimed. "That must mean Sirius Black is there! Have you been able to meet him? Ask him about what happened to my parents?"

"You're doing that thing they said," Link observed. "Why?"

Ron decided he liked this guy. "Exactly! Why wouldn't you tell us what happened, Harry? We're your friends, aren't we?" he challenged. "I mean, you've got to tell someone so you don't go mad, so why not us?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Because…er…"

"We don't want to worry you while we're away," Yellow intercepted more smoothly. "You've already got enough going on at the castle to keep you busy. No need to fret about us. We're staying as safe as we can."

"Right," Red scoffed, "Like when you dropped fifteen meters out of the sky to thump a bratty dragon on the head with a rocket-powered sledgehammer. Perfectly safe."

"Rocket-hammer?" Link asked. "Bluesmith?"

"Yup, it was your grandma's," Harry confirmed. "Unfortunately, it's attached to our magic now, so we don't know how to give it back."

"That's okay. Mama Kappi made more."

"Harry, we need you to explain," Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, "so much."

"Starting with the 'Red dying' thing!" Ron chimed in.

"That's at the end of it all, though!" Red protested. "Don't you want to know about the cool stuff we did before I got blown into a wall? That's one of the more boring bits!"

"Explain everything, then," Ron said with exasperation. "We'll all talk about what's been happening where we are, alright?"

They spent the afternoon chatting with the Harrys, Link, Avoka when the ninja stopped by Link's house, and then Hagrid of all people.

"I've been living out in the shed," Hagrid said cheerfully. "It's a mite tight, but closer to what I'm used to. I chop wood and cook to make myself useful around here. I'd have come back to the castle earlier, but I thought I was the only one who wound up in Hyrule!" His laughter was helpfully transcribed. "I'll be back soon enough. Gaebora—Link's sister—says I'll have to make sure my heart's trustworthy before I hop on a train, otherwise it'd be safer to walk."

"Trains are scary," Link and the Harrys chorused.

"You're all just wimps. Except Hagrid, because he has a good reason. The trains are fun," Avoka said. "And at the speed they travel, there's no chance of pirates or marauders getting a cannon trained on them! They're way safer than caravans or paddleboats."

"They fly with rockets," Link said. "Rockets break gravity. Gravity is important."

"Farosh breaks gravity all the time, but I never see you freak out when he flies over your house."

"He ignores. There's a difference."

"How is it that you've fought two dragons—three, including that Keese one—and you're still afraid of the trains, Harry?" Ron asked, amused. A vague sense of jealousy tried to kick up at the thought of Harry having a whole adventure like that without him, but honestly? Ron was glad he hadn't had to deal with those things himself. Comet-tailed dragons the size of buildings and flying sand-worm monsters? He'd definitely met his quota for fighting beasties like that. He'd rather stick to monsters closer to his level, like Bokoblins.

"You haven't been on a Hylian train, Ron. They move at three-hundred kilometers per hour and they'd rather violate physics than slow down for corners," Blue said. "And Hermione, Link wasn't kidding about the rockets breaking gravity. They're powered by magic and, best I can tell, they can jet an output of force that functions as though the object they're attached to is in space. They totally ignore things like air, and sometimes weight."

"Our Levitation Charms do the same thing here—they can't totally ignore mass. I think it has to do with all the magic sunk in the land here. It doesn't like us messing with it, even with Magic Rods," Harry said.

"What's the difference between weight and mass?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Weight is the downward force of gravity acting on an object. It changes by planet due to differing gravity. Mass is how much matter—how much 'stuff'—is in something. It doesn't change, and things with a lot of mass will always be harder to move no matter the gravity," she whispered back.

"Are you telling me Muggles have weighed things on other planets?"

"Only on the moon, I think, so not quite yet. It's all physics calculations and hypotheses for the time being."

"We can show you how those rockets work with our hammer once the teachers stop being butts about us going home," Yellow said. "Speaking of them, how have they been since we took off?"

"Freaking out about you, then about Pettigrew, and now about Black," Ron said. "They still have enough time to yell at anyone who goes outside, though. Most of the Bokoblins and Lizalfoses have been whittled down, but the lake keeps spitting up Skullfish for some reason."

"We have a theory about that," Harry said.

"A hypothesis, he means," Blue corrected.

"Sure. But we think there might be, like, a big Skullfish down in the lake having babies, or some other kind of magical reproduction point. It's not like Vaati cares enough to refill the lake with fish zombies every morning, after all. There must be something down there that's keeping it infested."

"Hmm." Hermione curled her fingers under her chin. "I didn't consider that."

"We're going to check it out ourselves at some point, but yeah, that's probably what's up."

"What if we handled it?" Ron asked. While fighting dragons was beyond him, he could swim and go up against a big fish. It wasn't anything he hadn't done before. "Do you think whatever it is would be as bad as that Gleeok you slayed?"

"I doubt it. Shadow Harry would have whined at us for not testing our skills against it if it were."

"Shadow Harry?" Avoka asked. "As in Shadow Link? He's loose again?!"

"Another Harry?" Link wondered innocently.

"He's an ancient, evil-ish spirit that copied our face and memories. It's a thing he does to sword-people whenever he's called up. He's been a little nicer to us because of where we're from, so we can talk to him without him trying to kill us," Yellow said. "His idea of 'fun' can be pretty mean. He set Castle Town on fire recently, for example."

Link swore. "Rivets," he seethed.

"Link's family business got roped into the reconstruction effort, so he's been milling rivets and nails nonstop lately. It's really boring," Avoka clarified. "That explains how the Bomb Shop went up, though! Someone set a fire in the Milk Bar right next to it, and no one could figure out the manner or the motive. I'll report that to the City Guard commander tomorrow so he can mark the case as solved. It's been driving him up the wall."

It was very weird to hear a version of Malfoy sound so dutiful. Although now that Ron thought about it, Normal Malfoy had had a lot of respect for his parents and Snape before the whole Zora thing. "I'll tell my father" had been a common threat. It was like Ninja Malfoy had decided to take those tattletale traits and make them less annoying.

"But yeah, that thing in the lake might be something you can take care of without a magic sword," Harry said. "We think the Four Sword is specifically for beating Vaati and breaking his magical anchors. If whatever's down there isn't him or an electrified eye, you should be able to blast it to pieces eventually, just like we bashed Ignikanos's head in with a magic hammer. It'll just be harder to do damage without a Muggle weapon because of how tough everything here is against spell-damage."

"We have a few of those," Ron said. The Lizalfoses had broken into a Zora armory at some point and started showing up on the shore with fish-themed swords, bows, and spears. Those weapons had gone back to the Zoras at the castle whenever the students or lake natives managed to thin the small army outside, but Ron was willing to bet Prince Tiamus would let them borrow some to solve the lake's zombie fish problem.

"Are you sure you want to handle it? We can go back to help," Yellow said. "I know the dark water might be really scary. Green still has nightmares."

Ron set his jaw stubbornly. "We'll do it ourselves!" he declared. "If you can beat two dragons, we can fight one stupid fish. Besides, we're the only ones at the castle with Zora Earrings and the other people here who can breathe in water would get eaten up fins-first."

"Alright, then, we'll leave it to you," Harry said. "We'll have to talk to you later, though. Avoka can't stay here all day and I have sword-practice to do." There was a short pause. "Oh, and if you go in the lake, see if there are any pips of Bluestone down there that look like some kind of trail. The Hero of Lights—big name around here, ask Prince Tiamus about her—hid a bunch of magical items all over the place, and she might have stowed one in the lake. Erm, you may or may not want to face whatever craziness she put in front of the prize; she was mental enough to build a flaming obstacle course in the middle of Death Mountain as a shortcut, so…yeah. That's how her mind worked."

"She was the first Bluesmith," Link said proudly. "I'm named after her. Link Bluesmith the Fourth."

"And Bluesmiths are people who think rocket-powered hammers are a good idea. Keep your wits about you," Blue warned.

"Talk to you later!" Yellow said. "Good luck with the lake!"

"Hope to see you soon, once the teachers stop being arseholes," Red added. "Bye."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look of determination once words stopped spilling at high speed across the page. They'd both been feeling rather useless lately, what with the teachers keeping so much information from the students and keeping everyone cooped up in the castle. If they fixed what was wrong with Lake Hylia, it would be that much easier to go outside and see the new world. The Zoras would be able to go home, too, after weeks of being stuck on dry land.

"I'll come up with a plan," Hermione said. "You get those weapons."

Ron nodded and started putting on his shoes, glad to have something to do. Maybe with this, he could start making up for being an accomplice to a Death Eater's crimes.

Notes:

-The breed of apple Remus and Sirius are snacking on is a Hylian Sugar, so named because it's the fruit that Hyrule refines sugar from (Hylian word for apple = pammel, sugar = pam). It's the sweetest apple cultivated in the rather apple-obsessed kingdom, while green Scrub Apples are among the sourest and hardest.

-A "Hardening Chant" is wizard-speak for what a Hylian would call a Durability-Boost Enchantment.

-Harry will eventually admit to his friends what's wrong with his relatives, but at this point he still has an irrational fear that telling anyone will get him locked in his cupboard for a week. It's been drilled so thoroughly into his head that "talking about the Dursleys" = "horrible punishment for both myself and who I told" that he is incredibly averse to speaking about his upbringing, no matter how much he trusts them. Once he becomes more confident in his ability to protect himself and other people, he'll be able to open up.

-Hyrule has rivets, nails, and the primitive beginnings of welding, but has not figured out threaded bolts and screws. Also, the nails are those large, 4-6in, hand-forged square ones used in medieval construction, not quite the same kind you can buy at the hardware store.