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Part Four

"I don't see why it matters that Harry is gay, Ron. The important thing is that the Slytherins are taking the time to isolate him and make him think he can't depend on anyone except them."

"It's not that—it's not that I mind so much," Ron said, although from the flush on his face, Hermione wasn't sure that was true. "It's just that Ginny is going to be so disappointed."

Hermione sighed a little. At the moment, she had to admit, little mattered less to her than Ginny's disappointment.

They had spoken with Dumbledore. They had talked with Harry privately and in front of the other Slytherins who insisted on being with him all the time. They had talked to their Housemates, some of whom believed Harry was dangerously insane because of the stories in the Daily Prophet. They had written to Sirius, who had written to Harry, but who apparently hadn't had any impact, either.

Hermione was running out of ideas to bring their best friend back to them.

"Do you think that Nott just convinced Harry he was gay and he's not really?"

Hermione turned her head and gave Ron a stern look. Ron withered a little in the fire of the way she was looking at him.

"Okay, yeah, you don't think that," Ron muttered.

"No. It's something Harry would have discovered eventually. But it would have been better if he'd learned it when he was still our friend."

"So you think we've really lost him forever?"

Hermione looked at her hands instead of answering. She wished she could come up with something else, some way to reach Harry, to pull him back from the dark waters he was drowning himself in. She didn't want to think that he would join up with Voldemort or start believing in Slytherin blood purity nonsense, but he was exhibiting a bunch of the other dangerous symptoms the psychology books had talked about.

For now, though, they only seemed to alienate Harry further every time they talked to him. So Hermione swallowed and said, "I think if he's going to come back to us, it's going to be in his own time."

"But what do we do while we're waiting?"

"Focus on what we can do," Hermione said. "The things that would be important no matter what Harry was doing."

"What do you mean?"

"Umbridge is a terrible teacher, and she's ruining our Defense education." Hermione sat up, catching Ron's eye, and saw him sit up, too, a brightness like firelight running across his face. "So I say that we start a study group of our own where we can practice hexes, and protective spells, and all the things that the Ministry doesn't want us to learn."

Ron gave her the deep, slow smile that Hermione had always liked best, because it meant he was really thinking. "That's brilliant, Hermione. You're brilliant."

"I bet a lot of people will be pretty eager to sign up, if only because they hate Umbridge…"

As she spoke, Hermione didn't say the other thing that was running through her mind, the other truth.

And it might even help that Harry isn't friends with us anymore, because then they won't think that this is tainted by what they believe are his lies. Or were his lies. Since he seems to have changed his mind about speaking them.

Hermione blew out her irritation. Concentrate on what was in front of them. Right. Resisting Umbridge and the Ministry was important, no matter what Harry was doing.

And maybe more important than ever. If Harry never came back to them…

Well. They would just have to keep fighting, that was all.

"Ron. I need to talk to you."

Harry's voice had become so unfamiliar to him that Ron was slow in turning around. When he did, he saw his best mate—his former best mate—standing with his arms folded and his foot tapping on the ground. He looked more groomed than usual, and Ron thought spitefully that he was probably borrowing Malfoy's hair products.

But at least neither Nott nor Malfoy was in sight.

"Yeah?" Ron asked warily. He didn't think it was an ambush, but on the other hand, Harry had waited until Ron was coming back on his own from the Room of Requirement, the place to practice spells that Dobby had found for them. It had been a stroke of brilliance on Hermione's part to ask the house-elves, honestly.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Standing in a corridor?"

Harry made an impatient noise. His robes were finer than what he'd worn before, Ron thought, more tailored. "I mean, what do you think you're doing by hiding in a room that isn't there all the time and practicing spells?"

"How did you—Dobby." Ron sighed. They should have remembered that Dobby's loyalty was always to Harry first. "Well, Hermione decided that we deserve a good Defense education, and Umbridge isn't going to provide it."

Harry was quiet. Ron just waited. At least Harry wasn't yelling things or whispering with Nott or telling them how horrible they'd been to not write him a few letters during the summer.

"So you're going ahead with it?"

"The Defense group?"

"Resisting Umbridge. Resisting the Ministry. Coming up with ways to fight the—the Dark Lord."

Ron sneered. "Got to call him that to stop all your new friends from flinching out of their skins?"

"Answer the bloody question!"

"Yes, of course we are." Ron rolled his eyes. "Did you think that we'd all roll over and show our bellies just because that's your new hobby?"

Harry turned a bright, blotchy red. Then he said, "I'm resisting in ways that you don't understand—ways you can't know. How does it feel to be on the outside of all the information-gathering for once, huh?"

"Terrible."

Harry faltered, as if he hadn't expected Ron to tell the truth. Ron thought that was a little silly. Of course he would tell the truth. He always would. He just wouldn't lie back and give up the way Harry apparently thought he should.

"Your plans are messing up my plans."

"What are your plans?"

Harry was stubbornly silent.

Ron shook his head. "Maybe you have the right to keep secrets, the way we did, but that means we need to go ahead and act with the limited information we have. And, mate? Keep in mind that neither Hermione nor I would want to be saved by you cooperating with the Ministry or You-Know-Who or some such."

Harry recoiled. Ron turned and walked down the stairs in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, back tensed all the way for Harry to yell for Umbridge or the Slytherins who would try to catch Ron and drag him to Umbridge's office.

But nothing happened.

I reckon Harry still has that much loyalty left.

"Snuffles, what are you doing here?"

Hermione made sure to keep her voice down as she knelt to ruffle the fur behind the ears of Sirius's Animagus form, but she was badly shaken. She couldn't believe that Sirius would risk something like this, no matter how much he missed Harry.

Or no matter what Harry might have written to him in return. Hermione and Ron didn't actually know if Harry had ever responded to the letter they'd asked Sirius to write to Harry.

Sirius panted at her and then turned and led them in the direction of Hagrid's hut. No one was living there while Hagrid was gone, since Professor Grubbly-Plank had quarters in the castle, but Hermione still looked anxiously over her shoulder all the way. At least Sirius had had the sense to find her when she'd been walking near the edge of the Forbidden Forest and wondering what in the world they were going to do about Harry. It was almost dusk, and most of the students were crowded together in the Great Hall with its warmth and food.

They stepped behind the hut, and Sirius swirled back into his own form, hastily draping a cloak over himself that obscured his features. "I thought we should talk face-to-face," he whispered. "Can't do the Floo, since that's being watched. How's Harry?"

"I—really don't know, Sirius."

Unexpectedly, Sirius nodded. "Yeah, he sent me sort of a strange letter in response to mine. So I thought I would come and ask you, but also see him."

"That could be really dangerous! I don't know how much he's told Nott and the others about you, but if they know that you're here—"

"Harry promised to meet me alone and not tell anyone else I was here, Hermione, and I trust you."

Hermione bit her lip and kept silent. She didn't trust Harry, but there was always the chance that Sirius bringing someone or acting like he was suspicious would just drive Harry further into the Slytherins' arms.

"Did he say why he wanted to meet you instead of talking with you through the Floo?" she asked, and couldn't help the spiteful tone that came to her voice. "He's one of Umbridge's pets. She'd probably let him have an unmonitored conversation."

Sirius watched her closely for a moment, as though expecting someone else to start speaking through her mouth, and then nodded. "He said it's about securing a trial for me, turning Wormtail over to the Aurors."

"You've got to get out of here, Sirius!"

"Why?"

"Because Ron overheard Harry talking about that with Nott, one of the worst of them! A Death Eater's son!" Hermione pushed at Sirius, and he staggered a little, but didn't turn back into a dog and run away. "They're trying to use your lack of a trial to manipulate Harry, to make him distrust Dumbledore, and—"

"What do you think is going to happen, Hermione?"

"They're going to bring Aurors here to arrest you and probably take you straight to a Dementor, and—"

"No, Hermione, I mean, what do you think is going to happen to Harry after this?"

Hermione hesitated. "I don't know. I mean, I hope that he doesn't become a radical blood purist who blames Muggleborns for stealing magic from purebloods or whatever their latest nonsense is, but he seems to be heading in that direction."

Sirius shook his head. He looked saner and calmer than Hermione had known he could in the distant lights of Hogwarts. "Harry won't just be able to become his heroic self again, whatever we might want. The experience of being in Slytherin will have marked him. And he might want to continue down the path that he's following."

"Okay?"

"So I'm going to make sure that he knows I won't abandon him. No matter what he says, no matter what he does, he's always going to be my godson, and I'm always going to make sure that I'm there for him."

Hermione swallowed. "Sirius, that sounds nice in theory, but I'm not sure that he would want you there."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't want me and Ron there. Not anymore."

"Well, it's different," Sirius said, as if that could possibly be true. "You're his friends, but I'm his godfather. He's going to live with me if I can get a trial and be proven innocent."

Hermione shut her eyes in pity. She didn't want to see Sirius's face when the revelation came home to him that the Slytherins were just using this to manipulate Harry. "I don't know if—you didn't write to him during the summer, either, Sirius."

"But he knows that I want to live with him, and I'm writing to him now, and he knows why I couldn't be with him during his childhood. So it's going to be all right."

Hermione tried a couple other things to persuade Sirius out of going to visit Harry, but he seemed dead-set on it. Hermione leaned back against Hagrid's hut and watched as Sirius turned into a dog and pranced up to the school again with an aching heart.

Oh, Harry. If Sirius gets eaten by Dementors…

She didn't know what would happen next.

"It's done."

Ron started and glanced up to see Harry walking past him into the Great Hall, his face shining. He seemed like he had been speaking to Ron, but he just kept walking instead of looking at him. Ron had to jog to keep up with his best mate, or his former best mate, or whatever Harry was to him this week.

"What's done?"

Harry shot him a smile that was sweet and edged with glittering energy. "Sirius is going to be free."

"I haven't seen anything in the Prophet about a trial for him or anything."

"Well, Fudge wouldn't like to be proven wrong, would he?" Harry shook his head and continued walking once more, which led him towards the Slytherin table and meant Ron had to follow him. Ron grimaced and did, ignoring the hostile stares from Nott, Malfoy, and fellow wankers. "But Pettigrew's been handed over, and Amelia Bones is doing a private investigation."

"Are you sure it's going to work out?"

"Why not? Amelia Bones is among the least corrupt people in the Ministry."

"Well, right," Ron said, although he didn't know for sure if that was the case. The only people he knew who talked about the Ministry regularly were Percy and Dad. Dad focused on what was important to his Department, and Percy—wasn't an option right now. "But Fudge could block her, couldn't he? Since he's the Minister."

"That would presume he would find out about this investigation before it concludes," Nott said, leaning forwards. "And he won't, Weasley, unless a great idiot like you blurts it out in front of everyone."

Ron could feel his ears turning red. They were standing by the Slytherin table, and there were probably people listening who didn't like it that Harry was part of their House now, and they could probably get in the way if they wanted to.

But—

"That would presume the investigation is happening in the first place."

Nott gave a slow smile that looked as if it would cut his face in half. "The investigation is happening, Weasley."

"But how do you know? How do you know that this isn't just something someone is telling you, and you're feeding the lie to Harry, and you're encouraging him to become more disillusioned with Dumbledore if the investigation doesn't happen—"

"At the moment, I don't think Potter needs help to become disillusioned with Dumbledore," Malfoy drawled. "Since even Potter's supposed best friends just leap to do the Headmaster's bidding."

"Harry, you told them that?"

"Of course." The momentary brightness on Harry's face when he'd spoken to Ron had vanished, and he'd sat down behind the Slytherin table and started sipping water from one of those dreadful silver goblets they used. His eyes were locked on Ron. "I had to explain why I was so willing to turn my back on Gryffindor, after all."

Ron groped for the words that would tell Harry what a violation he thought that was, and didn't find them. Either Harry already knew Ron thought that way and didn't care, or he wouldn't understand.

"Right," he said, defeated, and turned his back.

Malfoy and Nott and Harry and the rest of them probably watched him walk across the Great Hall. But Ron didn't turn to look back. He took his usual seat and his usual breakfast, slumped in the first one, and picked at the second.

"Ron?"

Ron leaned back and stared at Hermione. Then he said, "Nott's convinced Harry that an investigation is happening in the Ministry to clear Sirius's name. That's it's going to happen because Amelia Bones is in charge of it, and she supposedly isn't corrupt."

"But Fudge could stop it, if he wanted to."

"That's what I told him."

Hermione watched the Slytherin table with narrowed eyes for a moment, then turned back to her own plate. "We still have to go forwards," she murmured. "Use what we have, keep up our resistance to Umbridge."

Ron thought about that, then nodded. Hermione was right. Umbridge would still be a nasty piece of work even if Sirius was declared innocent.

And if he gets Kissed?

Maybe Harry would need them then. Maybe he would come back because he would be alone in his grief and realize the Slytherins were—

Ron shook himself out of that as he heard Harry's laughter, sharp-edged and oddly flat, echo from the Slytherin table.

He wasn't a bad person, even if Harry had become one. Ron wasn't going to wish for Sirius's death so that Harry would turn back to them.

He was always going to be better than that, and it didn't matter how other people behaved.

"Please come in, Miss Granger."

Professor Dumbledore's voice was gentle, but Hermione ignored that. She marched up to his desk and put the newspaper down in the middle of it.

Dumbledore turned the paper around with gentle fingers, although Hermione was sure that he already knew what it said. The article had come out that morning, and she hadn't managed to speak to him until now, after dinner.

"I am glad that Sirius has been declared innocent."

Hermione clenched her teeth. She was, too. But she had another question to ask, and Dumbledore wasn't going to distract her from what she wanted to say.

"Yes. And if it was that simple, why couldn't you arrange a trial for him? I don't think Pettigrew could have hidden from you if you'd really devoted a lot of resources to searching for him."

Dumbledore raised his head. His face was ancient and full of regret. "I do not think that finding one particular rat in the whole of Britain, or on the Continent once he fled there, is as simple as you think, Miss Granger."

"Why?"

"Do you think that Minister Fudge would have taken my word alone as proof of Sirius's innocence?"

"Not this year. But before that? Yes! Why did you never at least try it? Why?" Hermione was horrified to discover that she was almost on the verge of tears. It made her sniffle and look away at some of the spinning silver instruments, which was embarrassing, but she did really want to know.

"I was afraid."

Dumbledore's words were so soft that at first Hermione didn't think they could possibly be an answer to her question. Then she focused on him, and the grief on his face, and realized they were. She took a long, slow breath. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Things seem to have gone right, this time." Dumbledore touched the edge of the newspaper with one hand, as though expecting Sirius and Pettigrew, who stood there in photographs on the front of it, to get up and speak to him. "But I didn't know they would. You saw how strongly Minister Fudge wished to disbelieve claims of Sirius's innocence. I was sure that without Peter, we would be unable to make a case for Sirius receiving a trial at all, instead of a Kiss."

"And you didn't think you could find Pettigrew?"

"As touching as your faith in me is, Miss Granger, I am neither omnipotent nor infallible."

Hermione flushed. "I just meant—there are ways to track people. I've been reading about them."

"Ah. In that Defense group that no professors are supposed to know about?"

"Um. Yes, sir."

Dumbledore waved a hand at her this time, instead of the paper. "Please believe me, Miss Granger, I will never report you for such a thing. I could wish that all students were clever and determined enough to organize an armed resistance against those they believe to be wrong." He sighed and leaned back. "There are ways to track people in the fashion you are speaking of, but they require some of the person's blood or hair."

"And you didn't have any of Pettigrew's."

"I did not. And there is another reason I would not do that kind of tracking. It requires intention on the part of the caster to harm the victim in order to be successful."

"You—wouldn't have wanted to harm Pettigrew."

"I might want to see him pay for his crimes, Miss Granger. But I would not appoint myself his executioner, no. I have seen what happens when I take that power upon myself."

Hermione blinked, burning with curiosity, but managed to restrain it. "So you would have—you were afraid that everything would go wrong if it didn't go exactly right, sir. And you didn't think you could make the Ministry bend to your will."

"No. I am afraid that the Death Eaters only managed it with bribes and, of course, the fact that they would have had unparalleled access to Peter."

"And—do you think it's a good thing? That Sirius is free?"

"With what the Death Eaters could demand of Harry in return?" Dumbledore spoke in a soft whisper that made Hermione feel as if she were standing out in the winter wind. "Oh, I do not consider it a good thing at all."

Hermione left the Headmaster's office in a thoughtful mood. It hadn't occurred to her that Dumbledore might have been genuinely doubtful of his ability to get Sirius a trial. But of course Hermione had thought herself that any time he came out of Grimmauld Place, Sirius stood a chance of being Kissed.

Dumbledore must have dreaded that, and felt that there was nothing he could do, no good outcome. Or at least, no good outcome that was assured.

It was only coincidence that what the Death Eaters did worked, really.

Hermione was walking with her head bowed when Harry stepped out of the shadows in front of her. Hermione dropped into a crouch, her hand going to her wand, a gesture that was instinct after she'd spent so many evenings drilling the D.A. in hexes. She straightened back up, but she looked warily around.

"It's just me. Now do you believe me?"

"Believe that you're angry about us not sending the letters? Yes, I believe you—"

"Not that. Now do you believe me that there are things the Slytherins can do for me that Dumbledore could never do? Would never do?"

It was hard for Hermione to argue that when she'd just heard Dumbledore admit that he didn't know if he could have got Sirius a trial, but she did have a different argument waiting. "And what price are they going to ask of you for it?"

"Does it matter?"

Hermione paused. Then she said, as gently as she could, "Harry, of course it matters. It's great that Sirius is free, but there are other people who could be hurt in the war, too, not just Sirius."

Harry looked at her, his eyes full of green fire. The cold look Ron had described as being on his face was entirely gone. "It doesn't matter. Not if this works."

"If what works?"

"If I tell you, then you'll just interfere or ignore me the way you did during the summer."

Hermione blinked, thinking that the last words sounded more hostile than the rest of their discussion, but she didn't get a chance to ask Harry about it. Light footfalls came up the stairs behind them, and then Nott was standing there, his arm cocked against the wall, his smile glittering as he watched them.

"You had something to say to Harry, Granger?"

"I have nothing to say to the traitor," Hermione said, tossing her head back and putting a haughty tone in her voice that she hoped would prove something one way or another, depending on the way that Harry reacted.

Harry sneered and turned to glance at Nott. "She was telling me again how I couldn't blame them for not telling me the truth, and that my godfather being free isn't such a good thing after all, because of future unnamed casualties in the war."

"I had no idea that you distrusted Sirius Black that much, Granger," Nott said, although he looked delighted. He slung his arm around Harry's shoulders. Hermione didn't think the way Harry leaned into him was feigned, and she didn't know what to think about that. "I can assure you, we are doing our very best for Harry here."

"Your best to corrupt him, you mean."

Hermione honestly didn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation, or the insults that Nott flung at her. Instead, she was staring intently at Harry, who just turned his head away and tugged Nott back to the staircase he had come up, towards the dungeons.

Hermione stood watching them go, and hoped that anyone who might be spying would think her pale, set face and clenched fists just the natural result of a conversation with her traitor of a best friend.

Because if what she suspected was true, and Harry was trying to spy on the Slytherins for them, or get what he wanted as far as both Sirius's trial and protection for her and Ron went—

Oh, Harry. I don't know if you can do it. I don't know what I should wish for.

And I don't know if you really did enjoy some of the things that you said to Ron and me. If revenge on us was part of your plan.

If it was, how can we ever come back from this?