Laws that might theoretically permit the actions of the centaurs and Occlumency had made up the bulk of their studies in the past few weeks, but since the recent discovery, they had an entirely new subject to study. The library at the estate proved insufficient; apparently the Longbottoms had always been a decent, upstanding lot and had no need to research certain things.

"There's no way Dumbledore doesn't know about this," Ron said for the third time.

"I imagine you're correct, but it's easy to see why he wouldn't tell Harry," Hermione said, letting out a long breath. "For a man to come back from the dead, there had to be something on the subject, and it had to be dark and obscure, or else everyone would do it. Most likely, he looked into some even worse resources than we have, and found more detailed information."

Thus far, what they had was scant. The initial thing that caught Ron's eye was a reference to another book. In the footnote, the author swears he has heard of no other way to bind a soul to anything, before or after death. It had them all thinking of Tom Riddle's diary, which had been a subject of complete mystery for them for the past three years. There was no way that simply writing in a diary could impart memories into it, even if it was enchanted; they checked both common and esoteric enchantments for diaries and there was nothing at all on the subject; it was mostly about the books having singing reminders to get their owners to write in them, and to read them once some germane situation comes up.

Further confusing the matter, as brilliant as he might have been, their enemy was only a student at the time. He was not going to invent new spells before first seeking out whether or not someone had saved him the trouble; as long as he saw some profit in continuing to attend Hogwarts, it could be assumed that he did not know everything. Even if he did have some intention to try to develop something new, he would have to do even more reading, when most likely even the most minimal research would tell him if a convenient spell already existed. They had tossed the idea around that he had somehow stolen the books from the library, never to return them, but if there were books missing, Madam Pince would have noticed. If she had any idea what they contained, she would have reported the matter.

"So, what we know, beyond any doubt is that there had to be something that was possible for Riddle to pull off while he was still in school. He might not have done it in a classroom, but he did it with the same amount of information we have."

"Well, maybe," Ron said. "Dumbledore could've pulled the books himself. Even if he knew we were only trying to figure this out, he probably wouldn't let us. He must've figured we weren't reliable enough."

"It was hardly our fault we did not know Occlumency," Hermione said ."It is not exactly on the curriculum, even for upper years."

"That's not why," he muttered, letting out a long breath as he sat back down again. "We weren't reliable enough because any adult who was at least reasonably smart could have gotten us to reveal it without even trying. We were clever enough for what we were doing, but we weren't nearly as clever as we thought we were."

"You got it in one, mate. We never would've guessed what Slytherin's monster was if it weren't for someone reading every book on various creatures and cross-referencing all of their different behaviors and whatnot, and then happened to be clutching a page from a book that-"

"I wouldn't have damaged the book if it weren't absolutely necessary. At that point, I already knew a repair charm, so it was a moot point-"

"Let me finish. We had Malfoy right in our sights and we never asked what the monster was."

"I don't think he knew," Harry said. "If he did, he might have thought Crabbe and Goyle would know already. That's right, though. We went about things in a really obvious, basic manner. It doesn't make sense to expect much more of ourselves at that age, and now that I think about it, a lot of the adults were probably embarrassed by the fact that we did everything. I bet some of the students didn't even believe it all happened."

"Didn't someone ask us if we really killed a basilisk?" Hermione asked. "I suppose Neville always believed in us, but that first meeting in the Hog's Head was kind of a sham. It was just a bunch of people who wanted to know if the rumors about you were true."

"Yeah, that's exactly it. We didn't exactly go around bragging about it, and the school basically gave us points for it, enough to win the cup, and that was that. Most of the older students probably thought it was rigged for some reason that couldn't be explained, and so the staff decided to come up with an explanation that satisfied everyone; there really was a monster in the school and the Boy Who Lived saved the day. It was probably hard not to be cynical about anything Dumbledore said after the school nearly closed."

"It was still good that they joined," Ron said after a moment. "Looking back on it, I'm just a little surprised is all."

Something like a realization, only slower, hit when the international guests arrived for the Triwizard Tournament. There were Durmstrang students who pointed him out as a curiosity, which made sense, because apparently they studied dark magic as part of standard course work and would be interested in how anyone could survive a killing curse. Apart from that, though, no one really cared that he existed except for the fact that he was Champion. After three years of believing what they wanted about his exploits, it was no particular surprise that they thought he somehow cheated to get in, or that the school did it all for him.

At the very least, he would have thought that he showed them he could mostly take care of himself when he managed to win the cup, somehow, if only by default. Perhaps it was, as people kept telling him, his tendency to be hard on himself that made his performance in the previous rounds seem like a joke. Everyone else seemed particularly impressed by the fact that he managed to bring up two hostages, while he was solely focused on the time, which had very nearly run out. It had also been embarrassing to find that they were in no real danger, not that the merpeople helped reassure him. Thinking back to something his actual friends said, had he just been trying to be a hero, disregarding the fact that he was in a competition? He had never been trying to win in the first place; he hardly needed or wanted the prize.

"I have an idea," he said after a moment.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, taking a break after moving her eyes rapidly and setting a book down.

"So far, we've been putting the other members through paces, and we've helped them practice in a controlled setting- I think we could make different sorts of challenges for them. Once they get far enough into it, they'll be coming up with exercises for each other."

"That might work," Ron ventured. "Don't reckon it's the best, but it's a way to take a break after Occlumency training." He was not terribly enthused by it, but there were a few people who were behind the three of them."

"Great. When they all get here, I want you to at least bring it up. I'll be busy."

He would have liked to at least have everything happen on a day that they were not meeting, but perhaps it was not so bad that his friends would be meeting without him. All he could do was to go along with what the Order told him, going to Grimmauld Place to meet Snape yet again. It was about time, so he got up to use the floo.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"You're the one reminding us he's a teacher," Ron said. It looked like she was ignoring him, and from the fact that he had picked up another book, he had seen it coming.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I need to trust Dumbledore. There isn't anyone else who can help me."

He took the trip as planned, ignoring Kreacher when he arrived. It might have all been a joke to him, but the elf could have gotten him and all his friends killed. Somewhat surprisingly, he heard nothing at all out of him as he walked out of the main room, going up the stairs. It seemed the property was mostly empty at the moment, but Sirius of all people was probably still there.

"Sirius?" he called out right as he was passing by his godfather's bedroom.

"That mane of mange has not deigned to grace us with his presence, Potter," Snape said, standing there and quietly putting something in his robes. If there were a more unusual image than seeing his old Potions master surrounded by muggle paraphernalia, up to and including the swimsuit models on the walls, he had not seen it yet. Why had he come here of all places? Why would he wait in an area so private, almost sacred, to its original owner, if one so full of bad memories at the same time?

"Where is he?" he asked. "I know he doesn't have anything to do with my lessons... I just know he's meant to stay here."

"That much is true, and as he is always awake for our meetings, no matter the hour, I suspect he has taken on a nocturnal schedule. At the moment, he is most likely sleeping, if your thoughtless calling out did not wake him up."

"Right." In his years with Snape, he had learned there was no effective way of saying 'yes, I get it, now please get off my case about something so trivial, and I would prefer if you did not try to maximize every stupid thing I ever did'. As a result, it was best to take the wind out as quickly as possible. After only an intense stare, it seemed they were going to begin immediately.

To his moderate disappointment, he could still see flashes of his own memory, but almost immediately it felt like they were being held in place. His efforts to hold his attacker, at least in some sense, were working. In what seemed like a small amount of time, the older wizard broke away from his control and continued to go through memories. He sneered at the thought of what they were doing.

"So, was your old club not secret enough for you, Potter?" he taunted. "Did you have to come up with a new one, only for me to find out about it almost immediately?"

He felt like he could grab onto Snape again, but it seemed preferable to have him on any other memory. Practicing another technique, almost like he had a flowchart before him, he found both of them in a dark, cramped space where he struggled to regain control for a moment. It seemed that he had successfully moved the conversation to another time, though it was hard to nail down just how old the memory was. After all, it had been years of being stuck in the dark cupboard under the stairs.

"Where are we now, boy?" the practically disembodied voice demanded. "Is this one of your favorite broom closets for wasting time with witches?"

"No," he said. 'This is where I was stuck for ten years."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. He was under the general impression that everyone in the Order knew about his upbringing, even if it had not been explicitly stated. If they knew that much, it stood to reason that they also knew how terrible it had been, and no one had commented. He was not one to complain about it, not when there was nothing that could be done in the present, and complaining made him look weak, especially not when he was not forced to stay with them at the moment. Had it always been Dumbledore who made the final decision that he would have to return to them? Would bringing it up ruin his chance that no one had noticed?

The mind reader seemed to concentrate more deeply and again they were flung through his memories. It felt like it took Harry a moment longer to get his footing again, this time stopping in the pet shop in magical London. He had not been in when they went to pick up Hedwig on his first ever shopping trip, but he had seen the inside when Hermione adopted Crookshanks. Why were they stopping there, though? Was it a significant memory? Was it not significant?

"Where is this?"

"Diagon Alley," he said. The reading he had done on Occlumency was starting to make more sense, but simultaneously, more questions were coming up. Why was the most he could do just halting Snape in his tracks? What would it take for him to get tossed out entirely?

"Even with your cleverness, you could use this, Potter. If the Dark Lord wonders why you stop in certain places, you can have him think there is something more than he realizes. I doubt your meager defenses will be enough to repel him entirely, and at the moment, we have the slight advantage that he does not know you have made any progress."

"I see what you mean. I'll... I'll have to work on that, though."

"Yes, I expect you shall. Continue making progress, and continue making no trouble for the rest of us, and there will be no need to check with the Dursleys to see how you have been."

The scene around them disappeared and all of a sudden they were back in Sirius's bedroom. Snape left without another word, letting everything he had said, and everything else that had happened, sink in. Why did he not think of it before? Of course, at least someone in the Order already knew that he had not returned to where he was meant to be, but it was more than just that they were firing on all cylinders and had not the chance to check up on things; at least one of them wanted to see what he would do with the opportunity. Harry knew it was not for nothing that he had been forced to stay there for his entire childhood, and he would have to take pains to make sure the enemy would not locate him away from where the magical protections had hidden him.

Only one question remained. Where was Sirius sleeping, if not in his old bedroom?

He knew it was not a pressing matter, and if he really did find his godfather asleep, he would surely go back without waking him, but it seemed strangely important, because that was the only reason he had not been captured by Voldemort; the fact that he never left the place. Perhaps the moment of truth was passed, but what if he finally got fed up with staying put? Harry had already checked five different rooms, starting with those closest to him and moving away from there. He walked in on Kreacher in a loo.

"Is your master here?" he asked. "I want the truth this time." All at once he remembered the anger from before. The elf had nearly cost him his life, and quite possibly the lives of all of his friends. No one was ever exactly nice to him, except Hermione, but he disregarded her attempts, calling her a filthy mudblood.

"He's with the disgusting creature."

"You're going to have to be more specific than that, Kreacher. You're the one going about in the same rags Walburga Black gave you. I'm not sure what you mean by 'disgusting creature' right now." Oddly enough, the elf smirked.

"It's the werewolf."

It was incorrect to say that Harry remembered that it was a full moon. It was more like he had not entirely ruled out the possibility, and there was the confirmation. While Sirius was under orders to stay in the house, surely no one would mind if he took a trip with Lupin to help calm him down, especially if someone had trouble brewing a Wolfsbane Potion. It was not as if they would be in a densely populated area, and it was not as if he was doing it only for his own sake. Simultaneously, the elf had touched a nerve by calling his former teacher disgusting, but the moment he had his wand out, he heard the crack of Apparation.

"Easy does it," someone was saying from downstairs. "Don't want to waste all the progress we made not hurting yourself."

Harry went out to join them, his realization that it was his two favorite adults catching up to him. Lupin looked worn out, and his godfather was just behind him, looking around after setting him in a recliner.

"What are you doing here?" the Animagus asked, looking up from the main room as his godson found the stairs.

"I was just getting a lesson in Occlumency from Snape," he said, cutting off the chance of a question about why he was not with his aunt and uncle. "I'll be going back soon, I just wondered where you were."

"Oh, that's quite understandable," Lupin said, trying to be polite, waving away something, though he was not sure what. "As I'm sure you've gathered, it's the morning after a full moon."

"Right." Should he admit that he did not really keep track? Was there any point? Would it be better to express that he was glad they got to spend some time together, even if not in human form? "Does Snape not give you Wolfsbane?"

"He does, Harry... but I should tell you, the potion has a shelf life of three years, even when no effort is taken to preserve it. It's a remarkably stable concoction." He sighed. "The truth is, Severus only provides me with the potion when the Headmaster asks for it, and I've come into the habit of storing it up rather than using it immediately. I never know when I'll truly need it, and as long as Sirius is available, I can pass my nights in relative peace."

His godfather had not looked in his direction for the duration of his old friend's little speech, but he had raised a hand to his face once, and then put it down. Was there something he was hiding? Perhaps there was something he was trying not to say?

"Well, I... I really have to be going. I'll see you next time," he said, going back to the door. There was a small business across the street where he did not even have to ask to use the floo. From the looks of it, the whole magical wireless tuning and repair operation was run by a sleepy retiree with too much time on his hands. He barely took notice of the fact that Harry always had his hood up; it was all he could do, apparently, to ask that he not smoke in the entranceway, and all it took for him to go back to ignoring what was going on was for the anonymous youth to grumble a word of assent. In his years of experience sneaking around, he had learned to be as unobtrusive as possible, which would accomplish much more than using his invisibility cloak, especially in the middle of green flames.

He had every expectation that Ron would ask him how London was, probably as a subject changer when something went too far into the theoretical. As he had the last time, he would answer that he had only seen a small part of it, and there were as of yet no interesting rumors. It was doubtful that anyone would ever bring up horcruces, and the three of them had decided to keep the matter secret for the moment, but having gone from the front page news to totally off the radar had to get people talking about whatever happened to Harry Potter. While he was working on a way to practice Apparation, he had decided that he might as well learn what else the magical streets had to teach him.