14. Seriously?
Fortunately, the questions on the parchments Marchbanks gave them were nearly the same as the practice NEWTs that The Professor had given and reviewed with them in the Room, only with fewer questions. They had taken several different practice tests, none with repeated questions. It seemed that there was a pool of questions the examiners used, and varied the exact questions from year to year, so merely knowing the previous year's questions would not be that much of a help in answering this year's, except certain questions that had to asked every year, like the one about Gamp's Law.
He barely finished all the questions in the time allowed. Hermione had finished first and was going over her answers.
"Excellent," Marchbanks said as she summoned the tests to the desk she was sitting at. "Why don't you two relax in the tub while I look these over? It won't take long." * She made a notation and started reading.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then shrugged and went over to the tub and hopped in.
"Well," Harry said in a low voice, staring over at the Madam Marchbanks looking over their parchments. "That was unexpected."
"I'll say," Hermione muttered, "If not for occlumency I wouldn't have remembered half the things I wrote down just now. We had no time to revise, or anything!" she huffed, "If we had, I know I would have done better!"
Harry chuckled. "Our practice tests, though, were scarily accurate, weren't they?"
"Yeah," she said nodding. "They're the only reason I remembered as much as I did! Thank Merlin The Professor reviewed our answers and showed us where to improve."
"Well," Harry said lightly, "I'm sure if you don't like the score you get, you can retake the test later! This was sprung on us as a surprise, so they can't penalize us if we do poorly."
She pressed her lips together. "I know, that's the only reason I'm not losing it right now."
Marchbanks suddenly said, "House-elf!"
There was a slight pop, and a house-elf said, "Zacky be here."
The elderly witch waved her hand negligently, not taking her eyes off the parchment she was reading. "Bring us lunch."
"Zacky do!" he said excitedly, and popped away.
She put down one parchment and picked up the other.
Zacky returned with a table loaded with dishes of food. Griselda looked up. "Bring me a ploughman's platter and water."
"Zacky do!" he said happily and quickly assembled a plate and brought it over to her, with a glass of water.
She glanced at Harry and Hermione. "Help yourselves, I'm almost done."
They had just seated themselves, feeling more than a little weirded out at sitting to lunch with a Professor dressed as lightly as they were when Professor McGonagall came in.
She seemed surprised to see their attire, but said nothing considering Marchbanks might have told them not to dress, yet.
"I'm almost done," the elderly witch called out. "You should have them show you their self-transfigurations, they are quite good — they even made their own gill-system. And not only can they do Merfolk, but owls and hawks well-enough that they can fly."
Harry and Hermione ended up reprising the transfigurations they had shown Marchbanks.
By the time they finished, the examiner had finished, as well.
"I don't believe I have seen anyone do Merfolk, before," McGonagall said slowly.
"I haven't seen anyone do that, either," Griselda said. She looked at the two. "I just gave them the standard test for a Transfiguration NEWT to see if they had concentrated only on those forms." She shook her head. "I am . . . surprized . . . that they managed to complete them. There are many, many Seventh Years who couldn't have done that, nor as well with the answers, given either."
Harry and Hermione gave her wide-eyed looks, and exchanged a look with each other. McGonagall was also staring at Griselda in disbelief.
The older itch leaned back in her chair and gave the two students a considering look. "Have you thought about learning the animagus transfiguration?"
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, and sighed. They had wanted to keep this a secret as long as possible. On the other hand, they could tell these two and the fidelius would prevent it spreading any further.
Plus, Harry knew Hermione would want to show off to improve her score.
"We actually can do that, already," he said quietly.
Griselda nodded solemnly while McGonagall just stared at them.
Harry just shrugged. "My dad, Pettigrew, and Sirius managed it when they were in Hogwarts."
"So that's how they managed to get into the forest without being seen!" McGonagall said, shaking her head. She stopped and stared at the two students. She raised an eyebrow, "Well? What are you?"
Harry shook his head and grimaced. "I can tell you, but you can't tell anyone else. You know Tom Riddle's Death Eaters are after me."
"I'm sorry," Marchbanks said, sitting up, "What do you mean, Tom Riddle? And Death Eaters?"
"Haven't you heard?" Harry said. "My First year, Professor Quirrell was a follower of Tom Riddle, which is Voldemort's real name."
She gasped at hearing his fake name.
"Quirrell was possessed by Tom," he continued. "He surreptitiously tried to kill me several times that year. Second year, a . . . memory . . . of Tom possessed a student, and, again, tried to kill me. In addition, one of his so-called former Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy, tried to kill me at the end of the year but he was interrupted and failed. Plus, the Headmaster and Professor . . . Moody . . . believe a Death Eater entered my name into the Tournament this year in an effort to get me killed."
Griselda was slack-jawed, and staring at McGonagall's slow nod confirming what Harry was saying. "So, you really didn't enter yourself?"
"Absolutely not," Harry said, shaking his head.
They all sat silent for a moment.
"Anyway," he continued, "we've used the Fidelius Charm to protect the secret, so, while we can show you, you won't be able to tell anyone about them."
"The fidelius?" McGonagall repeated incredulously.
"Uh, huh." Harry stood, and a moment later an Australian magpie was walking around. Walking, not waddling or hopping as most birds did. Its long legs allowed that. He finally flew up to the backrest on the chair and preened a bit.
Then Hermione shrank down on her chair to become a Bengal cat.
Marchbanks stood and walked over to examine the two, as did McGonagall.
"May I?" Griselda asked Hermione, pantomiming picking her up. After receiving permission, she inspected Hermione carefully, then handed her to McGonagall. She looked over at Harry and held out her arm. Harry fluttered over and received the same close inspection.
She pointed to the chair, and Harry flew back to it. McGonagall put Hermione back on her chair.
Marchbanks reached into her purse, took a couple of parchments out, and retook her seat. "Well, I can tell you both that you've scored Outstandings Plus on your Transfiguration NEWT, which automatically give you Outstandings Plus on your OWL . . . considering you haven't taken them!" She sighed and started filling out the parchments.
Hermione was practically bouncing in her chair with happiness, eyes fairly gleaming, hands clasped together.
McGonagall was giving them an incredulous, but proud, look.
"I've seen smoother transfigurations, faster transfigurations, and some truly remarkably transfigurations in my years as an Examiner for the Ministry, but never by students so young of age." She cleared her throat. "That you did so well in both written and practical would have gotten you both Exceeds Expectations. Your Merfolk transfiguration would move that to Outstanding. The animagus transformations would have given you both an Outstanding Plus, but with the fidelius we can't count that." She sighed.
"However, you very publicly revealed your self-transfiguration skill. So, adding the first complete one, the Merfolk, puts you both into the Outstandings. The Plus is for the second and third complete transfigurations, and your ages." She was writing as she spoke. When she finished one parchment, she started the other. When she finished both, she took out a knife and put a drop of blood on each.
She looked up at them. "The Ministry will send you an acknowledgement of your NEWTs in transfigurations in a few days, probably Monday."
They nodded.
She turned her attention to her luncheon plate. "So, lots of burning the midnight torches?" she said, and quirked one eyebrow.
"If I didn't know better," McGonagall said, giving the two a stern look, "I'd say they were using a Time Turner."
They gave her a startled look, which was a bit of a giveaway, Harry thought. Then Hermione said, "I give you my word, I swear, that neither of us has a Time Turner, no-one is letting us use one, and we are not using anything that would allow us to go back in time to have more study time like a Time Turner would. We are absolutely not doing anything that might be dangerous to ourselves, or the time-stream, like a Time Turner." She took a breath. "I remember the rules on Time Travel quite well, and we haven't even come close to violating any of them."
Harry cleared his throat, "I read somewhere that a soldier once said, "Nothing focuses the mind more intensely than prospect of impending death." He took a breath and let it out. "I can certainly admit surviving this Tournament has my utmost concentration." He glanced at Hermione. "And Hermione has always been smarter than me — heck, I think she's the smartest witch in the school."
Hermione blushed at his praise.
While McGonagall looked mollified, she still looked a bit suspicious.
"So," Griselda said as she started on her lunch, "He-who-must-not-be-named is not really dead, just as the Headmaster has been claiming all these years?"
Harry nodded. "He's currently possessing an animal of some kind, I believe, and working with Peter Pettigrew to return to life."
The old witch would have done a spit-take, but she was chewing and only choked a bit in surprise.
"Pettigrew? But he's dead!" she said incredulously.
Harry shook his head. "We," he pointed at himself and then Hermione, "and Professor Lupin saw and spoke with him at the end of last year. He admitted to being my parents' Secret Keeper, as well as killing all those Muggles. We even saw his Death Eater tattoo on his arm."
Griselda leaned back; lunch forgotten. "Why haven't you told anyone?" she said, astonished.
Harry chuckled darkly. "We did. We told Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore. Minister Fudge didn't believe us. He didn't even try to verify what we said by checking our memories with a pensieve or talking with Professor Lupin." He stared at Marchbanks. "Instead, he decided to believe Snape's made-up story that we had been confunded."
"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected.
"Snape," Harry repeated, "a so-called reformed Death Eater," The Professor had told them about both Karkaroff's and Snape's being Death Eaters long ago, "made up a story, with no evidence, that we had been confunded." He gritted his teeth a moment. "He has a pathological hatred for my father, which he has extended to include me. I now know he is a legilimens, so he could easily see in my mind that I was telling the truth, but he would rather lie than tell the truth where I am concerned." Harry snorted. "According to him, I am just like my father," he said bitterly, "whom I don't remember, who never raised me — a selfish, attention-seeking prat playing off my fame and fortune to avoid the consequences of my constant rule-breaking."
Marchbanks looked over at McGonagall inquisitively.
McGonagall sighed. "Professor Snape bears an unhealthy dislike of Mr. Potter. He belittles Mr. Potter at every opportunity and has never spoken well of anything he has done. He is known to have taken points and assigned detentions for no valid reason, dozens upon dozens of times, as well as blamed Mr. Potter for things he has not done."
She frowned. "Just yesterday, he accused Mr. Potter of cheating. He claimed that Mr. Potter could not conceivably cast such an advanced transfiguration as a merman, and, therefore, that Mr. Potter had promised a favour or paid a seventh-year to do the transfiguration for him to impress the judges. He wanted to take points and assign a detention . . . as if he could punish a Champion for something they did in a Task!"
She sighed and shook her head. "The Headmaster says he has complete confidence in the man . . . but if I were Headmaster, he would be gone before dinner. He might be a Master of Potions, but he is not suited to teaching children."
The elderly witch slowly nodded.
Harry just shook his head. "So, Sirius Black, my sworn godfather, is an innocent man. However, because the Headmaster has complete confidence in Snape, a former Death Eater who clearly hates both Sirius Black and my father — and me, by proxy — and willingly lies about anything to do with the three of us, the Minister refuses to believe the truth and my godfather has a Kiss-on-Sight order for his life."
He sighed. "And Headmaster Dumbledore says there is nothing he can do without evidence, also dismissing our memories that can be viewed in a pensieve."
"I was with Harry when that happened and gave Director Bones memories of our conversation with both Pettigrew and the Minister after the First Task, but I haven't heard anything back, so I guess the Minister quashed the investigation," Hermione disappointedly added.
Harry glared off into the distance for a moment, then shook his head. "Anyway, yes, Voldemort, Tom Riddle, is trying to come back." He frowned at her subtle winch.
He stared at her a moment. "What did Tom do that has people so scared of him that they refuse to say his name? No one will tell me except to say he was a horrifying wizard."
Marchbanks expression darkened. She sighed and shook her head. "The truth is that he put a Taboo Spell on his name. He knew the moment anyone said his name, and sent his Death Eaters to retrieve whoever it was. Then he tortured them to death. Being behind protective spells, such as those here at Hogwarts, did not stop him. Using his name with the Taboo cast on it made a hole in those protections that he could use."
Harry and Hermione sat back in shock. That was actually a very good reason to refuse to say the wizard's name.
"You say his real name is Tom Riddle? How do you know this?"
Harry shrugged. He pulled out his wand, and, copying what the younger Tom had shown him, used it to write Tom Marvolo Riddle in the air. With a second movement, the letters rearranged themselves to spell, I am Lord Voldemort.
"He showed me this in Second Year," Harry explained. "Then he told me 'Do you think I would use my Muggle father's name? Me, with the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side?'" Harry shook his head. "Tom was a Prefect in Hogwarts, an orphan, he told me." He sighed. "You can ask for more information from the Headmaster, he knows the whole story."
He chuckled. "We should spread that information as far and wide as we can. Then, if he puts a Taboo on 'Tom', he'll go mad with the number of people in Britain with that name — there must be thousands!" He grinned at the adults. "Plus, how many times a day does someone say, 'Hi Tom,' to the Leaky Cauldron bartender?"
Harry shook his head resignedly. "Headmaster Dumbledore told me to always call something by its true name, that doing otherwise gives it a power over us." He glanced at McGonagall. "Yet he always calls Tom by his made-up name, Voldemort." He frowned. "Makes me wonder, why?"
Hermione sighed sadly. "Seems rather hypocritical, don't you think? Don't do as I do, do as I say!"
"What do you think all Riddle's conservative supporters would say," Harry continued after a moment, "about his support of Pure-blood ideology if they all knew he was the rawest sort of Muggle-born — his mother a Squib and father a Muggle? That the three most powerful wizards of our century, Professor Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Riddle are all Half-bloods? One is an accident, two is coincidence, three times proves their ideology is wrong!"
Marchbanks sat quietly, picking at her lunch, as did McGonagall, Harry, and Hermione.
"But what about Family magics?" the older witch suddenly asked.
Harry shrugged. He and Hermione had had some interesting discussions with The Professor about that in their evenings and Beach "Days" in the Room. "When two Pure-bloods of separate families marry," Hermione said, "do their magics add? Or do they dilute each other's with the other, making both weaker? If they added together, then every family that married into the Black family should have a record of metamorphmagi in their ancestry right now." She looked at the older witches. "However, looking at the genealogy books in the library, that hasn't happened. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. The more the Blacks married other Pure-bloods, the less that trait showed up in their family, and almost never in the ones they married into. It would seem that exclusively marrying Pure-bloods dilutes each families' individual magic, over the generations."
She smirked. "Meanwhile, Andromeda Black married a Muggle-born, who has no family magic that anyone can discern, and their daughter, Nymphadora is the first metamorphmagus in a century." She studied their thoughtful expressions. "Maybe the way to encourage family magics is to bring in magic that has no predetermined leanings, which adds to the pool, instead of diluting it with another talent and making both weaker because the total pool isn't large enough to fully support both talents?"
She looked over at Harry, then back at the two adults. "Plus, according to the books we checked, the Potters, who have a record of marrying Muggle-born and Half-bloods, have the fewest squibs out of all the Pure-blood families."
She smirked again. "And, as Harry said, the three most powerful wizards of our century are Headmaster Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Tom Riddle, and all three are Half-bloods. Which tends to support my conclusion that 'new' magical blood strengthens a family's magic."
The two women exchanged looks and went back to their lunches.
Finally, Griselda looked up at Harry. "Would you mind sharing your memory of the times that you encountered He-Who . . . Tom?" She reached into her purse and took out three more rocks that she quickly transfigured into vials with corks.
Harry looked at Hermione, and shrugged. "You'll need . . .," he did a quick calculation, "five."
The elderly woman looked at him, nodded, and transfigures two more vials.
In short order, he filled the vials with meeting the possessed Quirrell in the Forest, over the dead Unicorn; the entire trip through the third-floor corridor to the Mirror, waking in the hospital, and his subsequent discussion with The Professor; meeting the teenaged Tom in the Chamber, beginning at his statement that he had many questions and ending with Harry's denial that Riddle was the greatest sorcerer in the world; Sirius dragging Ron into the Shrieking Shack up to the dementors attack; and him waking in the Hospital wing to Snape convincing the Minister that Harry and Hermione were deluded about what had happened.
She carefully placed the vials in her purse, then looked at Harry and Hermione. "Given what you've told me, and if these memories bear-out, I'll record your NEWTs in the books, but not put it through officially. So, you won't receive any owl-post regarding it. I know you have it; you know it, and only the people you tell will know of it. So, someone will have to specifically ask if you have any NEWTs to find out. And at your ages, I seriously doubt they will do that."
She paused, then added, "When you officially take your NEWTs, it will be revealed that you have this, and when you got it. You don't have to take the OWL, of course, although I would suggest it to keep up the appearance that you aren't that skilled, yet. Anyone asking for your OWLs will only receive the OWL results, not that you also have any NEWTs"
They were quiet again, each lost in their own thoughts, although Hermione's grin at getting the NEWT. wouldn't stop.
Finally, McGonagall took her wand and cast the tempus spell. She looked at the two students. "It's still early in the afternoon, so you may go, if you wish."
Thanking both Professors, but for different reasons, they quickly redressed and hurried out.
.o\O/o.
It was a bit weird to only have two "days" of Room classwork and a "day" for lazing in the Beach Room.
One side effect to the new regimen was that Hermione insisted, on Sunday, while they waited for Ron to come down from the dorm room on normal mornings, that she start his day with oral sex. "Harry, for almost three years I've been giving you a blow-job every morning, except the mornings in the castle. And I missed doing it every one of those mornings. I'm not gonna make it an every-other-day missing. It's an ingrained habit, now, so you'll just have to put up with it!" She smirked. "As if you'll complain."
He not only wouldn't, he didn't. A notice-me-not and sound-cancelling charms on themselves, and draping his invisibility cloak over them made it easy to accomplish without anyone being any wiser. His reciprocal pounding with his John Thomas would make getting up half-an-hour early well worth the effort.
He was surprised at dinner to see that Snape's name in his glasses was a light-orange. Crouch as "Moody" was a definite, solid red, not to his surprise.
Wednesday was Ron's birthday, March First, which the Gryffindors happily celebrated that evening. In anticipation of the day Harry and Hermione had searched for a broom for the boy in the Room of Abandoned Things. They had found and refurbished a Comet Two Sixty. It wasn't a Nimbus or Firebolt, but it was far superior to the brooms the Weasleys had at home, or the school brooms. They also procured a large supply of sweets from Honeydukes for him to enjoy over the next few months.
Their days in the Castle quickly fell into a routine of boring classes during the days in the school, and then in the Room continuing their lessons the first and second "days" on the subjects they had previously ignored, and the next "day" relaxing.
Not being gone for two "weeks" each night made it easier to connect with people in the castle. They explained their new attitudes to not having the pressure of the Second Task looming.
McGonagall, realizing they would be bored in her Transfiguration Class, started giving them special assignments to complete or research objectives. But that was only after they each demonstrated their mastery of the current week's material in front of the other students. She, and they, did not disclose that the special assignments were for earning a Mastery in Transfiguration.
Friday brought an owl from Sirius to meet them at two in the afternoon in Hogsmeade the next day. That same morning, Rita Skeeter had an article in The Daily Prophet about how Harry was smitten with the Muggle-born Hermione. She was, Rita claimed, an average looking witch with unkept hair, who must be using a love-potion to attract his attention.
Later, Snape was as unpleasant as always, using the article from the Witch Weekly magazine to try to provoke Harry. His name in Harry's glasses, now, was a dark-orange. Interrupting the man's obvious delight at his taunting, Professor Karkaroff came into the class to complain about his arm.
His name was also a dark-orange.
.o\O/o.
The four — Luna had started hanging around the trio for reasons no one but Harry and Hermione knew — had an enjoyable morning wandering the village the next day. Harry bought a pile of socks for Dobby as thanks for all his work shuttling them back and forth. He also restocked his chocolate supply. After their lunch at the Three Broomsticks, they met up with dog Sirius.
Harry and Hermione had explained to Luna about Sirius' innocence.
"She knows you're a good boy, Padfoot," Harry said, ruffling the grimm's fur. After a few moments eyeing the young girl, the grimm led them out of the village to where he was hiding in a small cave hidden in a fissure between boulders.
Sirius, when he changed from his animagus, was wearing ragged grey robes; the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been the last time they had seen him, and it was a matted, untidy mess once more. He looked very thin.
Harry sighed and pulled out the small bag he had expanded. "Here," he said holding it out, "there're several dozen meals and drinks in there."
Sirius eagerly grabbed it and pulled out a platter. He tapped it with a wand he had acquired somewhere to dispel the stasis, and the cave filled with the aroma of chicken, chips, and seasoned, cooked corn. He set the plate on a rock and grabbed the chicken. His eyes rolled up at the first bite, and he seemed to almost inhale the chicken. The bottle of butterbeer disappeared almost as quick. "Merlin! I needed that!" He shook his head wryly. "Been living on rats, and I tell ya, that's not something to brag about."
Harry sighed. "We have a ton of things to tell you, but here isn't the place. It's too close to Hogsmeade, and just being in Britain is dangerous for you."
"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an animagus," Sirius said with a shrug.
"Why're you here, anyway, Sirius?" Harry said.
"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," said Sirius. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."
"And Pettigrew, who might also be hanging around here as backup for Crouch Junior, might see you." Hermione stated flatly. "One 'anonymous' note to the Aurors and you're a dead man."
Sirius looked shocked at the thought, and then glanced worriedly around the cave they were in, and especially out the opening to the forest.
Harry rolled his eyes. "And this is not a great place to live, either." He looked around the cave, then at Hermione, and raised an eyebrow. She pursed her lips, then tilted her head slightly.
"I know of a place you can hide where no one can find you and we can see each other whenever we want," he said, glancing at Sirius.
"Oh, really?" the man said, not quite believing him.
"The only problem is Buckbeak." He stared at the greyish-white hippogriff. He glanced at Hermione. "What colours would look good?"
She stared at the creature, then walked over to pick up a feather on the floor of the cave. She held it up and tapped it with her wand. It changed to smooth shiny black. She held it up against his coat. "What do you think Buckbeak? Would you like this colour? You can return to the Hogwarts herd and no one would ever suspect it was you."
Ron grinned. "A simple colour charm, eh? Not bad, not a bad idea at all!"
The hippogriff just stared at her.
She pulled lightly on his wing, and tapped it with her wand after he stretched it out. It changed to match the feather. She tapped it again, to return it to its original colour.
The hippogriff's eye's widened and he frowned.
She went through several colours: chestnut, bay, dun, pearl, and pinto before he settled on champagne, which was a golden-cream sort of colour, but very shiny.
"Harry, would you do the honours? You have much more power than I do."
Harry frowned. A simple colour-change charm would work. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He concentrated on the feather that Hermione was holding as the sample of colour, and cast the strongest colour charm he could manage, wanting the feathers to be that colour as long as possible. A glow surrounded the hippogriff for a moment, and when it faded, the most beautiful hippogriff they had ever seen stood there.
Buckbeak shook his head, then turned to inspect his wings and barrel. He pranced a bit and twisted to the side, flipping his tail up to inspect it, too. He nodded his head, and seemed quite happy.
"Merlin," whispered Sirius, eyes almost bulging out at the sight of the new appearance of his friend.
"There," Harry said. He was a bit winded. That had taken more out of him than he had thought it would. "That will do while we look for a way to make it more permanent."
"Until then, we can ask to Dobby check Buckbeak every morning to make sure the colour will last the day," Hermione said, nodding her head.
"Dobby?" Ron said before Sirius could.
"He's the house-elf I freed from Malfoy, remember? He doesn't want to bond to a new family, but he's working at Hogwarts. Sometimes he does things for me, if I ask."
Ron nodded.
Sirius grinned widely. "You took a house-elf from Malfoy?" he said gleefully.
Harry grinned back. "He was very unhappy at the Malfoy's, so I tricked Malfoy, Lucius, into giving him a sock and freeing him."
Sirius burst out laughing. "You'll have to tell me the complete story, later," he declared.
Harry nodded. "What I'll do, Sirius, is have Dobby take you to the Chamber of Secrets. You'll be safe there, no one can accidentally find you. If you need anything, Dobby can get it for you. Tonight, at about eleven, I'll meet you and explain what's going on. Okay?"
Sirius was glancing back and forth between them. He took a deep breath and let it out, running a hand through his messy hair. "Okay? I guess?"
Harry nodded and called for Dobby.
Five minutes later the four students were watching Buckbeak wing his way towards the Hogwarts hippogriff herd. They started back to Hogsmeade, and thence to Hogwarts.
They would meet up with Sirius after curfew.
In the meantime, Sirius could unwind in the Chamber under the school in confidence that no one could ever find him there. With a comfortable couch, a nearby table, and a bag full of food, he could completely relax and not be worried he would be found out.
.o\O/o.
Ron, predictably, was uninterested in sneaking off to visit with Sirius. He was more interested in sleeping. Even the lure of a beach wasn't good enough to balance extra lessons, especially with more lesson time than a typical Hogwarts day.
Sirius was stunned when he walked into the Room from the outside corridor with Harry — Hermione always liked to go first. It was set up as a standard "day" with the casual area of couch, armchairs, and convenient tables in front of a cheery fireplace; the classroom area set up, but currently dark; the back duelling/practice area, also dark; and two doors leading to their bedrooms.
"We'll explain everything over breakfast, Sirius, I promise, but right now we need some sleep." It was already ten o'clock and past curfew. He grinned at the wide-eyed, slack-jawed wizard. "There's a full bathroom in the bedroom, with big tub and shower."
Sirius slowly walked over to the door with the outline of a grimm and opened it.
"We'll see you tomorrow," Harry said, chuckling with Hermione at Sirius' stunned expression. He followed Hermione into the other bedroom.
The next morning, Sirius no longer looked as tired and worn as before. Having a long soak in a tub of hot water had removed a great deal of the dirt and grime he had picked up in Azkaban. Having robes that weren't worn rags also helped improve his appearance, and his own view of himself.
They were, of course, wearing their casual clothes. They weren't familiar enough with him to wear less — Harry wasn't sure he ever would be that casual with being starkers in front of anyone but Hermione — and Luna.
"Won't you two be missed in your dorms this morning or at breakfast?" he said, concerned and frowning.
Harry laughed. "Sirius, while we got eight hours sleep, plus an hour to get ready for our day, only about twenty-five minutes have passed in the Castle!"
Sirius' expression after they explained exactly where they were and how the Room worked left the poor man slack-jawed and blindly staring into the distance.
"We never dreamed there was a room like this at Hogwarts, nor that it could do what you say." He glanced at Hermione. "Three-and-a-half years of real-time, the equivalent of four-and-a-half years of school? In only three months?"
He leaned back in his chair, stunned. "You could take your NEWTs today!" He shook his head, glancing around the Room.
The two teenagers nodded. "For the core classes? Yes, we could," Harry said.
"But, unfortunately," Hermione said, "Harry and I have classes to catch up on, so," she glanced at Harry, "we need to get started on that." She stood and looked expectantly at Harry.
"So," Harry said, smirking, "We'll see each other every day without anyone being any wiser." He glanced at Hermione and shook his head, "And have we got a lot of stuff to tell you!"
He sighed, stood. "Why don't you ask the Room if it has any robes or other clothes that would fit you," he suggested. He frowned. "Maybe there's a wand that would work better than the one you have." He turned and followed Hermione over to the classroom area.
Sirius managed to keep himself occupied for the rest of the morning outfitting himself with a wardrobe, finding a trunk to use, and listening in occasionally to their lessons.
At lunch, Hermione asked for some potions that would help Sirius recover, and several appeared with notations on when to take them. Knowing that the Room couldn't create the potions, it meant they were being taken from either Madam Pomfrey's or Snape's stores. Snape would be furious, and Madam Pomfrey puzzled.
They spent the afternoon showing him the things they had salvaged from the room, and their thoughts on selling them to raise money for the school.
Then they started on what had really happened to Harry during the First Task, and the prophecy. Then came soul-mates, life-debts, and what they had figured out about the soul-jars, horcruxes, that Tom had created. They told him of the ones that had been destroyed and creating Voldemouse, how Crouch, Junior, had replaced Moody, and what they had done, subsequently. They also mentioned turning over the memory of what had happened in the Shrieking Shack. That last led to a discussion of Harry's experiences in First and Second Years, which required The Professor to supply them with a Pensieve so Sirius could see for himself what had happened.
Sirius alternated between speechless and spitting mad. "This is insane!" he shouted. "Hiding the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts knowing that Vol . . . Tom, would happily kill every child in the school if it got him the Stone? Tests for a Dark Wizard that Firsties could easily pass? He could have taken a hundred hostages and said 'Turn over the Stone and let me leave in peace, or they all die!' What would Dumbledore have done, then?
"And then not knowing where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was when all he had to do was ask Moanin' Myrtle? Not knowing the creature was a basilisk? Doing nothing to help you while everyone accused you of being a Dark Wizard? Leaving you to dangle in the Tournament without providing you with tutors, even other students, to help you? What is that old goat buggerer doing? Is he senile?"
This went on for some time.
It was easy to get him to agree to not tell Dumbledore anything they had shown him or said since meeting in Hogsmeade.
Eating dinner calmed him down . . . a little.
"Well," he said afterwards, "at least I can help, now!" He shook his head. "While you are stuck here at Hogwarts, I can take Voldemouse, find, and get other Horcruxes."
.o\O/o.
* Standard handwriting reaches speeds of 20 to 30 words per minute, any faster and the words tend to become impossible to decipher (which is why typing at a mediocre fifty or sixty words per minute is such an improvement!). Reading, on the other hand, ranges from 200-250 words-per-minute, and professionals who must read a lot, reach 300. Thus, something that took two hours to write (30 * 60 * 2 = 3,600 words) would take a maximum of fifteen minutes to read, and probably only twelve.