October 31, 1991, morning

Ivy was bored. Nothing interesting had happened in nearly a month, and she was bored. Sure, classes were fine, and it was fun to go flying with Oliver or Marcus, even if they never wanted to go together for some reason. And Fred and George were entertaining and had shown her how to sneak around the castle more easily. Neville didn't appear to be that big on adventures and when asked if he wanted to go see a Cerberus he had shaken his head no. Ivy's multi-step plan of helping Pansy be less shy so that they could all be best friends hadn't yielded anything yet, and Ivy didn't have any other plans in the works. It was a little hard to play matchmaker from Hogwarts, after all. Unless she found one of the graduating seventh years… Henry probably wouldn't go for that though.

So yes, Ivy was bored.

But today was Halloween, and Henry had hinted that something interesting might happen today. Those weren't the exact words he had used, but he did mention that since it was the anniversary of her parents' death, someone might try to do something bad. He also told her to be careful, stay safe, and not do anything reckless. Ivy chose to focus on the possibility that something interesting might happen. She did keep Tiger with her all day though, just in case.

Evening

Nothing had happened. Maybe Ivy could come up with some way to make the day interesting still. The feast was good and all, but in the end, it was just more food than usual. That wasn't particularly interesting.

And then…

Okay, now it was interesting. A troll? How did a troll get inside the castle anyway? Weren't there, you know, walls? And wards? Maybe this was the sort of thing Henry had talked about. Maybe someone had helped the troll?

And poor Professor Quirrell. He was so easily frightened. This must have come as quite a shock.

All of a sudden the students were being led out of the Great Hall in what was no exactly an orderly fashion. Wouldn't it be safer to just stay here? Besides, as Draco so helpfully pointed out, the troll was in the dungeons, and the Slytherin dormitories were in the dungeons, so weren't they technically headed towards the troll? Ivy had to admit that Draco had a good point. Hey, maybe they'd get to see it!

With this optimistic thought in mind, Ivy followed Draco out of the Great Hall. As they moved along with the rest of the mass of students, she saw a little flash of red out of the corner of her eye. Craning her neck to see over the other students who were unfortunately almost all taller than her, she saw Fred and George and…Neville? They were glancing around and hurrying off to one of the side corridors. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was her chance to have an interesting day. Without a second thought, she pulled Draco off to the side and in the direction of the twins.

Draco hardly had time to protest before he was chasing after a running Ivy. Ivy thought it was very nice of him to follow after her so quickly. Why was he yelling out her name though?

It took a minute to catch up to the twins and Neville, who were also running. When they caught sight of her, and then Draco a moment later, they didn't even say anything, just kept running.

Finally, they arrive at a bathroom. A girl's bathroom. And… oh. There was the troll. It was huge. And for just a moment Ivy regretted being so excited about seeing it. A scream brought her attention to another person in the vicinity. Who was that? Oh, looked like Granger. What was she doing here?

Another scream, a few more screams, lots of screaming. Ivy may or not have been screaming as well. It was a little chaotic. Suddenly she felt something slide around her neck. Oh right. Tiger was with her still.

§Why iss there sso much running and sscreaming?§ he hissed out to her.

§Ssorry, Tiger,§ she said. §Theress a troll.§

§Yess I know theress a troll. I could ssmell it back in the chicken room.§

§Why didn't you ssay anything?§

§Sshould I have?§

Their conversation was interrupted by another smash of the troll's hammer against a sink and the subsequent screaming. Ivy probably ought to help.

"Hey George, does this count as an imminent death situation?"

George, who was throwing spells as quickly as he could just shouted out "YES."

Well Henry had said…

§Tiger, can you bite the troll?§

§Why would I eat troll? It ssmellss sso nassty.§

§Becausse it wantss to hurt uss.§

§Well why didn't you ssay sso in the firsst place, ssilly sspeaker.§

With that Tiger threw himself off Ivy in way she didn't know he was even capable of, and quickly reached the troll, sinking his fangs into the troll's thick hide. The troll tried to shake the snake off, but the snake evaded every attempt of the troll to hit it or remove the deadly animal from its prey.

It took a moment, but finally the troll succumbed to the snake venom, and landed with a loud thud on the ground. Tiger slithered back to Ivy, grumbling about nasty, mean trolls who smell bad, taste worse, and want to hurt his short speaker. Ivy was about to take offense to that last statement, when Neville cried out, "What is THAT?"

Ivy looked at him and noticed that the four Gryffindors were all staring at Tiger. Draco was also staring, but he already knew Tiger, so Ivy didn't quite understand why.

"This is Tiger," she said. For some reason, this did nothing to make the others stop staring. "He's my snake," she added. Still nothing. "He bit the troll." At this point, she was just pointing out the obvious, but she wasn't sure what they were waiting for.

This seemed to break everyone out of their momentary frozenness as well as make them momentarily forget their very recent trauma. Ivy found herself suddenly hounded by questions. And why was Draco asking so many? Again, he already knew Tiger.

Finally, they calmed down, and Granger asked, "You have a snake…named Tiger? But…he doesn't even have proper stripes?"

Draco groaned, clearly expecting the same lecture that he had received when he had asked the same question.

Ivy just responded with a cheerful, "Yep!" and everyone nodded except for Draco, who seemed a little put out for some reason.

"Umm, guys, there's still a troll here." They all turned to Neville, who was blushing a little and pointing to the dead troll.

"On it!" the twins shouted, before levitating the troll's club and hitting it over the troll's head.

"What was that for?" Draco demanded.

"Well Potter's snake can't very well take the blame for killing the troll, now can it," Granger said. "Then everyone would know she had a snake and that might not be the best idea. So this way when the teachers find it, we can just say that the Weasleys hit it over the head with the club."

The twins nodded along with this statement. Neville looked a little confused but seemed to agree. Draco looked like he was about to protest, but Ivy wasn't sure why it would be bad for everyone to know she had a snake. Lee Jordan had a tarantula after all. But she just shrugged and said, "Sounds fine to me."

Draco gave her a look, but didn't protest any further.

Suddenly several teachers came pouring into the destroyed bathroom. Their arrival brought a series of loud exclamations and questions which Ivy mostly ignored. Ivy did notice Granger start to tell some story about chasing after the troll, but Draco interrupted her and told the teachers that of course, Granger hadn't come looking for the troll, but that Weasley (no, the other one, no not the prefect) had made her cry and she had been in the bathroom this whole time.

There were various reactions to this statement. Ivy herself wasn't sure where Draco had learned that particular part of the story, but no one seemed to contest it so it was probably accurate. The twins both looked a little sheepish, which was understandable since it was their brother that had apparently played a part in this whole situation. Neville was clearly wishing that Snape would look anywhere other than in his direction, and Granger looked rather miffed that Draco had accused her of crying. Apparently Draco's dislike of Weasley was greater than his dislike of Granger. Maybe Ivy could convince the two of them to be friends. Then maybe she could put a stop to Draco's constant whining about the girl who kept beating him in class. The rest of the Slytherins would no doubt appreciate that as well. Even Pansy got tired of hearing about it, and she didn't like Granger at all. Of course, she was probably just too shy to say anything. Why else would she sit there patiently listening to Draco when no one else would pay him attention?

Ivy was asked a question by one of the adults present and realized that this was perhaps not the best moment to think about Pansy and how to get her to come out of her shell.

She spouted off something that she hoped resembled an answer, but Granger jumped in and began explaining again. Ivy shot her a grateful look. Normally she could come up with answers really easily on the spot but she was getting a little tired. And she was hungry. She hadn't had a chance to eat much before the whole troll thing.

After trying her best to pay attention to what was going on to make sure she knew which story they were going with (beat the troll over the head with a club, got it), she sighed a great sigh of relief. She wasn't entirely sure why, but it seemed like the thing to do.

After the teachers were satisfied by what had happened, and had both taken and given a number of points, she and Draco were ushered to their common room by a grumpy looking Professor Snape who kept mumbling something about dunderheads and lions.

Once they arrived at the common room, the professor turned to Ivy and said, "I hope, Miss Potter, that you do not mean to make a habit of letting your snake wander around the castle?"

Ivy thought that wasn't fair, seeing as Tiger hadn't actually been wandering anywhere. She had just carried him with her all day. But Draco blurted out, "You knew?"

Ivy personally thought that if Draco wanted to keep any part of this a secret he was doing a rather poor job of it, but the professor just looked down at the two and said, "of course I knew, though your story seems to have been bought by both the headmaster and the others present. Now, Miss Potter…"

"I promise he won't bite anyone, sir. Uncle Henry said he was only allowed to bite anyone in the case of imminent death, and George said that's what this was, so I thought it was okay." Ivy really hoped that Professor Snape agreed with George's saying that it had been a case of imminent death. If it wasn't and Henry found out about it, it wouldn't be one of those lovely eye-twitching responses. It'd be the disappointed look for sure, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Ivy hated more than the disappointed look. Except cooking, but that was irrelevant.

To her relief, the professor sighed. "Yes, Mr. Weasley was correct in his assessment of the situation. And since no complaints have been raised so far by anyone in my house I am going to presume that they are either ignorant of its presence, or are amenable to it. Am I correct in that presumption?"

Ivy nodded. "All the first year girls know Tiger. And the fifth year boys. And Draco. And all the second years. And maybe the rest of the first year boys. I'm not sure. And a few of the third years, and all the prefects."

Draco graciously pointed out that actually, all the Slytherins knew. Professor Snape raised and eyebrow at that and Ivy looked at Draco expectantly.

"You know…" Draco looked at Ivy for help, but she didn't know what he wanted exactly. "The thing…with Claridge?"

They were both looking at her. Of course she knew the thing with Claridge. He was annoying and had hurt Tracey's feelings. When Tracey had asked if she could borrow Tiger Ivy had agreed. When the other girls brought the snake back, they all looked very happy, and even Pansy said how wonderful Tiger was. For his part, Tiger had declared Tracey to be his favorite person aside from Ivy.

Ivy told her head of house and her best friend all of that. Professor Snape looked like his eye was about to start twitching, and Draco protested loudly that he was Tiger's favorite.

"No, you're his favorite boy. Tracey is his favorite person."

Draco pouted, and Ivy patted his shoulder comfortingly, while Professor Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just keep your snake from getting out. Potter."

Ivy agreed cheerfully to this, and she and Draco entered the common room, only to be bombarded by a dozen questions of where they had been and what had happened. And if Draco slightly exaggerated his role in the entire thing, well at least Ivy got the last piece of treacle tart.

November 1, 1991

"I know you told me about your school years, but I don't think I really got it until just now," Sirius said, putting the letter from Ivy down on the table. "Not until I had my entire life flash before my eyes and a decade of my predicted lifespan lost. Merlin, how did you do it?"

Harry shrugged. "We just did. It's not like most of it was planned or anything."

Sirius nodded. "Well, hopefully, that will be all the excitement that takes place this year. Have you thought any more about what you want to do about the stone?"

"Not yet. I've been thinking I should probably take care of that sooner than later, just to be safe. And to make sure Ivy doesn't somehow get the bright idea to go looking for it. As far as I know, she still doesn't know about it at all."

Sirius agreed that that was probably a good thing, although he doubted whether or not Dumbledore would allow her ignorance to continue much longer, assuming he was planning something similar to what Harry had experienced.

"Oh, and then there's Quirrell. I should probably take care of that too."

"What about Quirrell? He's the one who tried to steal the stone, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I just need to find a way to get rid of the Voldemort in the back of his head."

Oh, right. Evil dark lord possessing one of Ivy's teachers. Somehow he had forgotten that little detail. "Well, can't we just kill him?"

"I'm not sure. Last time I killed…" Harry cleared his throat. "Last time Quirrell died, but the part that was Voldemort got out. And I'd really hate to go hunting for that one. So much easier to get rid of when you know where it's at."

Sirius couldn't argue with that. "So we're dealing with a wraith that's possessing a man. Okay. Shouldn't be that hard. I think there's a book about it somewhere at the house."

They both shuddered at that thought. If they had to, which it was looking like they would, they would endure the trip to Grimmauld Place. But neither could claim to enjoy the prospect. Sirius's grandfather had died earlier in the year, leaving Sirius the sole heir of the Black estate, including the much-hated house of his childhood. Harry had of course broken into the house a couple of years previous, but he wasn't particularly eager to go back. But go back they would. They were Gryffindors. No dark, infested house could scare them away. Not at all. But then again, they had time, right? No need to rush into a situation unprepared. They were Gryffindors, sure, but they were also adults, fully capable of doing adult-like things such as thinking through things, making a plan, being responsible, and not going out in the rain or on an empty stomach. Perfect.

More time later than was strictly necessary A respectful amount of time later

Harry and Sirius stared at the door.

"You open it."

"No, you open it."

"It's your house."

"Does that mean I can burn it down?"

"No. We still need the book."

"And then can I burn it down?"

"What about the neighbours?"

"Maybe you can use fiendfyre? You have excellent control."

"I don't think Madame Bones would appreciate that."

"She doesn't have to know."

"Someone would find out."

"You could always obliviate them?"

"You plan on obliviating the whole of Britain?"

"As if you've never thought about doing that."

"Yes, but that was for a good cause."

"This is a good cause."

"No."

"It's a better cause than avoiding going on a date."

"Is not!"

"Is too! You know what, maybe I'll set you up on a date. What do you think about that, hmm?"

"Absolutely not."

"I'm sure Ivy would love to hear all about how her uncle turned down a date arranged by her adoring godfather."

Harry gasped. "You wouldn't."

Sirius smirked. "Wouldn't I?"

Harry glared. "Doesn't matter. Let's just go get the book."

"And then fiendfyre?"

"No."

Sirius pouted, but faced with an unrelenting godson-who-was-also-the-master-of-death, he gave it up as a lost cause and entered his childhood house for the first time in years.

"I can't believe Kreacher liked you."

Harry didn't stop laughing, the little bastard.

"He doesn't like anyone. Well unless they're, you know, my mother. Or my brother. Or my cousins. Or any of their friends. Okay, so maybe he just hates me. But still, why does he like you?"

"Oh come off it, Sirius. I told you I destroyed the locket. He was bound to be happy about finding that out."

"Yeah, sure, but he called me fleabag and called you Master Deathy. Hardly seems fair."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well I was nice to him and told him nice little things like the fact that I destroyed the very thing he had been trying to destroy for a decade. You bemoaned his continued existence and got in a three-way yelling match with him and your mother's portrait."

"I still don't see why we couldn't set at least that on fire."

"We can always come back."

"And have another lovely conversation with my dead mother? No thank you."

"Or to see Kreacher." Sirius couldn't believe that Harry had the gall to tease him with something so horrifying.

"You can come visit Kreacher. I will stay happily put at home."

"At my house, you mean."

"Precisely."

Harry laughed. Then Sirius stumbled upon the most brilliant idea and grinned.

Harry, catching a glimpse of Sirius's grin backed away and shook his finger. "No, no, no. Whatever, you're thinking, no."

"I haven't even said anything yet."

"But you were thinking it, and whatever it is, no. I know that look."

"What, you mean this look?" Sirius made the most innocent face he could.

"I know that one too. No."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's nothing bad. In fact, I think you'll love it."

Harry paused. "What is it?"

Sirius grinned again. "Oh, nothing. I just thought of what I'm getting you for Christmas."

Harry grumbled about how this wasn't the time to be thinking about presents, but then he froze and looked at Sirius. "No. Don't. I know what you're thinking. Absolutely not. You can't. No. No. Please no." The last one was said pleadingly but Sirius was unmoved.

He grinned and Harry sighed. Yes, it was a brilliant plan, and everyone would be happy with it in the end, he was sure of it. How could he not, when Harry was so clearly adored?

November 3, 1991

Sirius drummed his fingers. He wasn't entirely sure what Harry would think of his most recent idea.

It had all started as he contemplated life and the fact that this was the first birthday he had celebrated in eleven years. Then he had thought about why he hadn't been able to celebrate his birthday. Not that his birthday was a huge deal or anything, but it was still nice to have the option of celebrating at least. That had led him to think on the person responsible for making him unable to celebrate his birthdays (not to mention landing him in Azkaban). Pettigrew. Part of him was glad Pettigrew was in Azkaban. Let him have a taste of the dementors for once. But part of him wished he had been able to exact his own revenge. Sure, that hadn't gone so well last time, but he had waited for this day for nearly a decade. He was determined to have satisfaction.

And thus, his idea. Which he would need Harry's help to accomplish. Well, it was his birthday…

"Harry, you know it's my birthday today, right?"

Harry looked up. "Yeah?"

"And you said I broke out of Azkaban in your world, right?"

Harry nodded, clearly not following Sirius's line of thought.

"How would you feel about breaking into Azkaban?"

Harry choked. "Sorry, what? Why would you want to do that?"

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "Pettigrew."

Harry recovered, before responding, "I'm really sorry about that. I just didn't want to risk Ivy getting hurt and…"

Sirius waved him off. "It's fine. It was the right thing to do. It just seems a shame that he should be left so cozily in Azkaban now."

Harry looked like he was about to ask why Sirius of all people was calling Azkaban cozy, but noticed the look on Sirius's face and, probably realizing that Sirius was not, in fact, referring to Azkaban in that way, cleared his throat and gestured for Sirius to continue.

"So, I was thinking that we could break in, make sure our old friend Pettigrew is fully satisfied with his stay, and then, I don't know, end it?"

"And you want to do this by breaking into Azkaban?"

Sirius nodded.

"It's kind of a terrible idea."

Sirius nodded again.

Harry sighed. "I'm in."

Sirius grinned, but it faltered as Harry held up a finger.

"On one condition."

"Sure, what is it?"

"We wait until tomorrow. We don't need anyone even so much as suspecting that you had anything to do with it. And who knows who might make a connection between his death and your birthday."

Sirius had no problem with that. In fact, he was delighted. He had assumed that even if he had Harry's help, it would take some time before they were able to launch such an expedition. Harry seemed to think otherwise, and Sirius wasn't about to argue.

"Deal."

November 4, 1991

"Well that was…"

"Yeah."

"Let's maybe not…"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"We should go now."

"Yes, let's."

Overall it had gone better than Sirius could have even expected. Harry had apparated them right into Pettigrew's cell, and had set up a Patronus shield that looked nothing like anything Sirius had ever seen. It kept all the Dementors away, and gave Sirius plenty of time with Pettigrew. He had been a little worried that Harry would find the scene disturbing, but Harry gave no such indication. In fact, the only comment Harry had made the entire time was to ask if Sirius wanted to stop for Indian food on the way home.

Admittedly, Sirius didn't feel that much better when he was through with Pettigrew, who now lay dead on the ground. He had sort of hoped that he would have felt a little more…something. Instead he viewed the entire scene with a rather detached sense of emotion. Nodding at Harry to let him know he was through, he watched as the Master of Death erased any sign of their presence. Now it looked as if Pettigrew had died a normal death. Or at least as normal as one would expect to find in Azkaban.

Giving a silent thanks for Harry's foresight, since really, they didn't need anyone questioning Pettigrew's death, he grabbed onto Harry's arm and felt the distinct pull of side-along apparition.

He might not feel better per se, but he would sleep well tonight, no doubt about that.