Chapter 29, everybody! In which I am disappointed at the blatant cheating of our election and hope justice prevails soon.

Also! Some of y'all might have noticed that FFN had a major screwup this past week where nothing updated—it's theoretically fixed now, and since it started last Saturday those of you affected now have TWO fresh chapters to read! Since, you know, you can read them now. ^^;

Not sure how many people read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them back when it first came out (I think it had a reprint recently?)—Lethifolds are basically like dark blankets that live in the tropics and eat people without leaving a trace and are only repelled by the Patronus charm. They scary. D:

Also in this AU Harry hasn't actually encountered Voldemort properly yet (first year in the woods was the closest he got), so as far as he's concerned Voldy's just some weirdo hiding in the woods in Albania. We're also working with the theory that Crookshanks is the Potters' old cat, that Animagi can communicate with animals, and that animals in general have a whole network.

TroyWeb, thanks for the review! Ah thank you—I basically had a moment where I asked 'what if Malfoy didn't screw up Hagrid's first class?' and went from there. :D Mine too. :D

TheVoraciousBibliophage, thanks for the review! No, I had the same issue—it was a sitewide problem that didn't get resolved until yesterday. :\

Harry Potter © JK Rowling

One of the big topics of interest that year was very much Sirius Black, who had been spotted in a town not too far from where Hogwarts was theoretically (the school itself was unplottable, according to Hermione), but that was muscled out by discussions of Quidditch and the first Hogsmeade trip. Professor McGonagall was quick to remind the Gryffindors that they were to behave themselves on these excursions, have some decorum PLEASE.

Harry was looking forward to the trip right up until he approached the gate and realized that the entrance was guarded by Dementors.

Having to spend that day in the Hospital Wing again was not what Harry considered a good day.

Fortunately, this incident went with only the smallest of murmuring—and with Malfoy spending more and more of his spare time helping with the Hippogriffs, he didn't really have the energy for general gitness, as Ron termed it.

Ron, meanwhile, had been reduced to carting Scabbers around in one of the pockets of his tote bag in an endeavor to keep Crookshanks away from him—something which seemed very much like a losing battle, and something Harry didn't understand. Snips, Hedwig, the monster book, and the spider plant (named Murray and Scuttle respectively), all got along fine, so he couldn't understand why two magical pets couldn't do the same, even with the whole cat and mouse thing.

The Slug Club was also still in full swing, and Ross had—true to his word—put in a good word for Malfoy. The other Slytherin was now attending meetings and mingling, formal training obviously butting against wanting to talk about his newest obsession and his old habit of acting better than everyone else.

"The Slytherin common room has learned more about Hippogriffs than any of us ever wanted to know," Ross told Harry in an aside. "I think I could sneak you in in full Gryffindor colors and no one would notice."

"I mean you do have mermaids," Harry pointed out. "You could charge admission."

"I understand Fergus tried that once—I mean it was with the old Head of Slytherin, so maybe it'd work now."

There was also the question of the fact that Professor Lupin had to have someone sub for him for several days—he came back one class looking tired and wan, told them all he had one of those constitutions that meant he'd go under the weather at the slightest bug and hurried them on to the topic of Hinkypunks.

The first Quidditch game of the season was the big-ticket item though, more so the closer it got. Unfortunately, the weather didn't see fit to cooperate, and all attempts to tie his umbrella to his Nimbus failed, which left him resigned to using a repulsion charm on his clothes and glasses and hoping for the best. It did keep him mostly dry, but visibility still sucked.

As did the Dementors, which cost them the game in general and Harry his Nimbus 2000 in particular.

Madame Pomfrey wasn't the only one frustrated at Harry's reaction to the Dementors, although she did question him keeping the shattered remains of his broomstick—Harry, personally, questioned keeping a tree that delighted in smashing whatever came near it on school grounds.

Professor Lupin provided that answer.

"The Whomping Willow was planted shortly before I came to Hogwarts," he explained to Harry. "It's been here for years and has its uses, although I am very sorry for your broomstick. Is there no way to repair it?"

"None," Harry sighed—nothing they had tried had worked. "I just wish there was a way to keep the Dementors away from me—why do they affect me like this?"

"Everyone reacts differently to different stimuli," Professor Lupin told him. "Although for the Dementors…there is a spell that keeps them at bay—works well on Lethifolds too, but hopefully you never encounter one—it's a desperately tricky spell, however, even most NEWT students can't master it."

"But there's no harm in trying, right?" Harry asked. "I mean, I can't really do anything like go to Hogsmeade until I have a way around them, right?"

"That's a fair point, Harry…what are your free evenings? We'll work out a practice schedule."

Snips didn't approve of Professor Lupin and spent the whole way to his office that first practice growling, but quieted when Lupin announced the charm he'd be teaching.

"It's called the Patronus charm," Lupin told him. "It can be used to carry messages as well, but at its core the Patronus is a protection against monsters such as Dementors and Lethifolds—although you have a higher chance of encountering the former rather than the latter."

"Very," Harry said. "Considering there's Dementors around Hogwarts." Although reading up on Lethifolds had the entire room up all night prior, crammed on one bed with their monster books left loose and all of them armed with wands and blunt objects.

Lupin, of course, didn't know this, simply shrugged in acknowledgement. "Yes, well—for today I just want to start with you getting the basics of the spell down."

It was an interesting spell to say the least, considering it ran on happy thoughts—and apparently not just run-of-the-mill happy thoughts either.

"It has to be a powerfully happy thought, Harry," Lupin told him after about the sixteenth try. "Something that fills you from your head to your toes. It can't just be broomsticks and house cups."

It was enough to make him reevaluate his life up until now, he decided.

But by the end of the session Harry had started producing a small glowing mist from his wand, which Lupin declared progress.

"We'll keep working on that," Lupin assured him, handing him a bottle of butterbeer (and assuring him it was nonalcoholic, kind of like root beer). "I'm combing the castle for a fresh boggart—you're certain it'll turn into a Dementor and not…."

"I'm not afraid of someone who couldn't beat a baby," Harry pointed out. "And at this point there's an equal chance it'll turn into a Lethifold, so…."

"Ah," Lupin said, taking a swig. "You should have seen us when we first read up on those—all crammed up on one bed, didn't sleep a wink for a week."

"Sounds familiar," Harry said. Paused. "We?"

"Hmm? Ah—we being me and my friends—your father being one of them."

That was enough for Harry to stay another hour, constantly begging for a fresh story until Lupin finally told him I'll tell you more next session, go read up on Patronus charms in the meantime.

It wasn't much, but it was definitely a start.

It was also shaping up to be a whole lot of no going to Hogsmeade this year, since it was progressing so slowly. By the third session, Harry was making a fine mist, but it wouldn't be enough to hold off a Dementor (or Lethifold). Getting frustrated wouldn't help, Lupin kept reminding him—and besides, he was attempting something way above his grade-level anyway.

"Go hang out with your friends, do something fun, possibly stupid, but not too stupid," Lupin told him. "Relax and unwind."

Unfortunately, Harry was certain that such a thing would be something they could achieve at Hogsmeade, which Harry couldn't go to because he couldn't get past the stinking gates. And besides that, they barely saw Hermione anymore outside of class.

It was enough to see Harry and Ron in the library again looking up just how Hermione was pulling this off, and the rest of Gryffindor taking bets as to when she was going to have a total breakdown. The leading bets were midterms.

But Hermione remained resolute through midterms and managed to avoid a total breakdown, although people learned very quickly to give her space when they spotted her. Harry tried to suggest to her precisely once that maybe she should take some time off and decided he'd rather not make that mistake again.

Other points of interest as midterms came and went and Halloween approached was more news of Sirius Black, Malfoy still being surprisingly dedicated to Hippogriff care, and Crookshanks' continued designs on Scabbers. Ron was stressed enough at the idea of his pet dying, stressed further by Crookshanks trying to hasten his demise, and with Hermione so busy with schoolwork she never had time to even try to discipline the cat—not that she seemed to care. Harry had to agree with Ron on this point, her attitude towards Crookshanks targeting Scabbers specifically was kind of cold, all things considered.

It also made him more than a little worried about Snips around the cat, since Snips wasn't any bigger than Scabbers.

"You be careful, okay?" he asked Snips as they sat down to lunch one day. "Stay away from Crookshanks?"

Snips huffed at him, pointed at the shepherd's pie—Harry doled out a generous helping, started working on it after a moment of silence, spooned some peas as well for Snips to work on as he ate.

"Uh-oh," he noised, when he spotted Ron trudging over and sitting down. "Divination not go well again? Am I going to bite it terribly?"

"Probably," Ron said glumly, poking listlessly at a casserole. "Professor Trelawny says someone close to me is going to die—she says she saw the grim in my tea."

Harry had no idea how to respond to that. "Okay…."

"Ah, right—the grim's like this big black dog—it's an omen of death, Harry."

Harry exchanged glances with Snips, decided that wasn't any clearer. "Uh…you do know that Fang is a big black dog, right?"

"This is different," Ron insisted. "This is like…big scary black dog—like you're pretty sure it's going to eat you."

With the exception of the size and color, he figured that Aunt Marge's dog Ripper probably qualified. Wait—

"I might have seen a black dog in Little Whinging," Harry said, thinking. "And maybe during the last Quidditch match? I don't know, that one I was lucky I could see the end of my broomstick, it could have been someone's umbrella—"

Ron had gone pale. "Harry—Harry that's bad news!"

"You did tell him we see a big black dog almost every day, right?" Hermione asked between bites. "You know, Hagrid's dog?"

Harry nodded—paused, looked at her, as dumbfounded as Ron currently was.

"When did you get here?" Ron asked.

"I've been here."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, looked at Snips, who shook his head.

"Hermione," Harry asked. "Please start announcing yourself from now on—cough or something." Watch her eat for a moment. "And maybe think about chewing your food."

"No promises," Hermione said.

Ron waited until she was gone to turn to Harry. "Tell me, and be honest: that's like watching me eat, isn't it?"

Snips nodded so hard Harry was worried he'd give himself whiplash.

Snips listened to Harry on this point, in avoiding the cat—mostly because, like with that dog at Privet Drive, he very much would like to avoid being something's lunch.

But that didn't mean he wasn't vaguely interested in figuring out just why the cat was so interested in attacking the rat—hence why he was staying up and lurking in the folds of Harry's four-poster curtains, watching the door for the inevitable appearance of the ugly feline.

Sure enough, Crookshanks slipped in, making a stealthy approach for Ron's bed.

'And what are you doing?' Snips tried to say, irritated by his own chirps—but he succeeded in making the cat stop to look at him instead. Oh right, he wasn't much bigger than the rat and probably made just as tasty a treat.

The cat sat, licked itself a few times before answering. 'And what is it to you?'

Okay, it occurred to him just then that he had never tried communicating with animals before—but then again, it was just the toad and the rat, and Hedwig never really needed to verbally communicate…maybe he ought to chat up the owl some more.

'You are aggravating Harry by making his friends argue,' Snips decided to summarize, making sure to glare as he growled. 'And I for one don't appreciate Harry being aggravated.'

The cat continued to lick itself, grooming its tail before looking back up at him.

'Not here,' it said, before heading for the door, pausing a moment to look back at him before disappearing down the steps.

Snips could get the message, and despite knowing for a fact that this was the sort of stupidity that got Harry and friends in trouble, he disentangled himself and flew down to the common room, where the cat was waiting by the fireplace. Snips, however, landed on the top of one of the chairs—if the cat decided he'd make a fine snack as well, he'd much rather be out of reach.

The cat, meanwhile, licked its paw a few more times before looking up at him, tail lashing slightly.

'I'm waiting,' Snips said, glaring.

The cat eyed him carefully. 'Have you noticed something off about that rat?'

Snips had, but he didn't think that was here nor there. 'And your point?'

The cat groomed a patch of chest fur. 'Your boy—I knew him before he got that scar. His family was my family. The rat is responsible for them no longer being here."

Okay, now Snips was just confused—rats, even magic rats, didn't live all that long, and Scabbers didn't particularly strike him as being very magic. And wasn't he Percy's rat originally? Shouldn't he be on the way out the door? It wasn't unusual for animals to lose a lot of weight before shuffling off this mortal coil. In all, entirely nonsensical.

'I fail to see how the rat had anything to do with that,' he said finally.

The cat's tail flicked. 'You have seen the dog around.'

'I have seen a dog.' Anyone who went near Hagrid's did.

'I am talking about a different dog, one that was with the family too. Come—he will explain.'

With that, the cat headed for the portrait entrance. Snips hesitated—this was the sort of boneheadedness the kids did on a regular basis that gave him gray feathers; it simply was not a smart thing to do.

But…this might be his only chance to get to the bottom of this.

Resolving that this didn't absolve Harry from being scolded for this sort of idiocy, he slipped out of the common room and followed after the cat, flapping occasionally to keep himself aloft.

'If this is a ploy to eat me, I'll claw your eyes out,' he shot.

The cat flicked its tail, unconcerned. 'That is your prerogative.'

Okay, so now he had a new worry, that boneheadedness was catching. Sigh, continue to follow the cat, had to swoop down low to follow it out of the slipway it used to get out of the castle, down the lawn to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Land on a branch as the cat meowed.

Something big and black bounded out of the deeper woods.

'Did you get it?'

'No,' the cat said, looking up at Snips. 'But I have brought assistance.'

HA—there was no way Snips was assisting with this because THAT was an evil nasty vile dog he didn't know why he thought that just that he knew it was true—

And somehow, it was the same dog from Little Whinging.

The dog tipped its head at Snips' furious hissing and posturing. 'A little hissing thing is going to help?'

'NO,' Snips spat. 'I am not helping that THING.'

'Excuse you.'

'You are too helping this dog,' the cat said flatly. 'Because the dog is in agreement with me—the rat has to go.'

'The rat is on its last legs,' Snips countered. 'It will shuffle off this mortal coil soon enough, WHY are you aggravating the situation?'

The dog snorted. 'Oh please—it wouldn't be the FIRST time that rat faked his death.'

Wait, what?

'Twelve years is a long time for a house rat to live, isn't it?' the cat asked. 'Unless it wasn't really a rat.'

Wasn't really—what else would it—

'An Animagus?' he asked, hoping he was wrong.

'Yes,' the dog growled. 'An Animagus who faked his death and blamed his friend, who sold out his OTHER friends to save his own sorry hide—'

'The dog has very personal stakes in this,' the cat said. 'So do I. That rat is responsible for the death of my human—and cats hold very long grudges.'

Snips was teetering on the branch—an Animagus—but why the deterioration in health—and better yet, why masquerade as someone's pet for over a decade?

'Who is this rat?' Snips demanded.

The dog growled. 'Peter Pettigrew—he faked his death and hid as a rat for years—I thought he was dead!' Growl deepened, teeth gleaming in the night. 'I'm going to make SURE he's dead.'

Snips looked around, plucked an acorn off the tree, bounced it off the dog's head.

'Don't be an idiot,' Snips ordered. 'You can't just kill him—then he gets away with it all! You need to be smart about this.'

The dog flattened his ears at Snips' critique. 'Well, how would YOU do it?'

How would he do it, Snips mused, tapping his beak. In his experience, the only way to ensure Harry's safety was to be on top of him 24/7. To do so with this dog, where his instincts told him was bad….

But the dog wanted Harry safe too, confirmed his opinion of the rat…and if what he said was true….

Look at Crookshanks. 'Do we trust this dog?'

Crookshanks twitched the end of his tail, looking amused. 'We trust this dog.'

Well…worst-case scenario would necessitate him attacking the dog, but he thought he could manage a lucky shot. 'Then this is how we play it.'