Third Year
A/N
Here is the third year in its' entirety. As I explained in previous chapters and on social media, the pace will show starting from when we go into fourth year. Speaking of which, the first Fleur chapter will be posted you know where tomorrow for those that are subscribed.
Anyway, I have put this one out a day or two earlier than planned as a thank you for the continued support and for people reaching out to me with your kind words. I will reply to you all.
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TBR
Harry had assumed that carving runes into stone would have proven to be much more difficult than etching them into parchment. For hours, he had practiced drawing them correctly only to find that the stone was just as yielding as the former. Using his wand, he cut into the stone with little difficulty, the runes forming under his guidance with practiced ease.
"Very good," Tom praised as he finished with the laborious work and checked it for the third time. "Now, ensure that all your ingredients are suitably prepared."
Harry carried out his work in silence, placing his ingredients around his completed circle equally, nodding when he was satisfied they were set correctly.
"Thirteen ingredients and thirteen runes," he muttered.
"And the ritual to be carried out on your thirteenth birthday," Tom added. "The number has great meaning and power in many wizarding cultures."
"I know," Harry replied.
They had been over the process and significance of it countless times. He knew the steps, he understood the sacrifice and the benefits and was keen to get it underway. He needed only to wait until midnight arrived so that it could finally be done, the month of preparation having kept him busy along with his habit of frequenting 'The Hairless Hag' on a nightly basis to watch the duels.
With thirteen minutes remaining until the moment of truth arrived, he popped the cork on the bottle of phial that had held his blood for the past thirteen days and began copying the runes he had carved into the stones onto his skin using his finger.
"One minute for each rune," Tom had explained.
It was an odd thing to be doing, but Tom had explained the Arithmancy behind it.
"Thirteen rituals for your thirteenth year for thirteen purposes. The benefits will be exceptional, I can assure you."
"How can you be certain?" Harry asked. "You didn't do any until you were fifteen."
"Because I am exceptionally gifted in Arithmancy and ritualistic magic. I learnt all I could about them for almost six decades."
Harry conceded the point with a nod. The relationship between the two continued to be strained though the shared history between them was seldom discussed. The arguments would be pointless with no respite from one another, It was almost as though they picked up where they had left off, though Tom was much more open and answered any questions Harry had if he could. There was still much to be said, but knowing Harry was stuck with him, he did not press too much. He would learn all he needed to in due time and even Tom had readily agreed there was conversation to be had in the future.
He finished adding the final rune to his right wrist and took his seat amongst the tile on the ground. Giving a final glance around, the clock struck the hour and he activated the array with a small burst of magic from his wand, his body tensing from the influx of returning power he felt as his carvings lit up a bright purple.
After several moments of discomfort, his body fell limp as the runes around him stopped glowing.
(BREAK)
He opened his eyes with a groan, his stomach turning at the smell of the singed ingredients he had used. Sitting up, the room spun uncontrollably as he fought the urge to vomit and he took deep, laboured breaths to settle it.
"How are you feeling, Harry?"
"Not great," he mumbled as he approached his bedside table and downed a goblet of water.
"It will pass in a moment."
The teen hoped so. The nausea had been expected but it didn't make the feeling any more welcome.
He surveyed the scene around him. What remained of the fruits of his labour was little more than thirteen piles of broken tiles and ruined ingredients he'd used, none of any true value other than the basilisk fang that had been included to strengthen his connection to the parselmagic he possessed. It was something he was reluctant to accept but could not deny the advantage it could give him against any opponent.
Tom had insisted it become one of his focuses of progression. Voldemort had explored the branch in-depth and Harry would need to be able to counter such magic at the very least. Being told of the capabilities, he'd agreed it was important beyond this purpose. It could become a useful staple for himself and he had the benefit of another practitioner to guide him. He would be a fool to not use it.
"You should test it," Tom urged.
Harry nodded as he retrieved his wand, the familiarity of it removing the final vestiges of the sickness plaguing him. With a flick, what remained of his ritual vanished, leaving only behind the worn wooden floor in which he had awoken on.
He eyes widened as he nodded appreciatively. The entire purpose of the ritual was to strengthen the connection to his magic, to make it more reactive to his actions. He initially had been rather sceptical of the need to do so, but now that it had been done, no trace of it remained.
Before, there had always been a slight delay between his intent and the magic completing the task, almost like turning on a tap and the water having to travel a length of hose to come out the other end. Now, the hose had been removed from the equation and his magic was immediately available to him.
"Not bad," he commented as he transfigured his chair into a stool and back again.
"It will only get better the more we add to it."
"Is it really necessary?"
"Yes, Harry. The advantages they give you will save your life, will ensure you have a fighting chance."
"And what if it goes wrong and I turn out like him."
"You won't. We will only be completing rituals that will allow you to perform at your full physical, mental and magical potential. It is when you delve into the realms beyond what you should be capable of that the risks become higher and the results more harmful. We may be wizards, Harry, but there are limits none should step beyond. I know this better than any."
"And what if it still isn't enough to win?" Harry whispered.
"It will be. I believe in the potential you have, Harry. I can feel it within you. Regardless of the rituals we will complete, you would always have become an exceptional wizard. We unfortunately do not have the time to allow you to develop naturally. Think of it as speeding up to where you would one day be."
Harry nodded. Time certainly was not on his side. Already, Voldemort had presented himself in both years of Harry's schooling. Thus far, he had been fortunate, but luck was finite. Eventually, it would run out and it would be skill he needed to deal with the man.
He couldn't help but wonder just how Voldemort would interfere with his third year.
(BREAK)
"What is the big deal with someone escaping prison anyway?" Harry asked as he locked his compartment on the Hogwarts express.
He had heard whisperings during the summer when he had ventured to Diagon and Knockturn Alley respectively. He had paid little heed to the feat, his mind focused on his own work. It wasn't until he arrived at the platform to find it crawling with witches and wizards in red auror robes that he started to understand the gravity of the situation.
"Azkaban is one of the most unpleasant places in existence and it was believed escape was impossible. Whomever has achieved it, is the first to do so. It is understandable that people are concerned, Harry. The prison houses the most dangerous criminals. If one has done it, people will worry that more can replicate it."
"What makes it so bad?"
"The Dementors. Creatures that exude a darkness so cold that all positivity is drained from a person. If exposed to them too long, the mind can be irreparably damaged as you are repeatedly exposed to your most daunting memories. They also feast on the souls of witches and wizards when they can. They are not creatures to be taken lightly and are amongst the most dangerous in the known world."
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered with a shiver. He had no desire to come across such a thing. "Surely there's a way to defend yourself against them?"
"Occlumency helps, but even the strongest mind will eventually break. The patronus charm is the obvious choice, but that is an extremely advanced piece of magic that very few ever mange to achieve."
"What is it?"
"It is a manifestation of a person's positive energy. It takes exceptional skill to be able create as it relies on being able to focus on something positive enough to counter the negativity of a Dementor and the magical power to create. When faced with one of the creatures, it makes an already difficult task near impossible."
"Would be a useful spell," Harry mused aloud.
"One that you would struggle with, unfortunately, Harry." Tom sighed. "You lack the positive memories to fuel the spell sufficiently. Your life has not been one of joy."
Harry snorted at the observation.
"Is there any other way to deal with them?"
"There is, but the spell is one unknown to others. It is something Voldemort created when he failed to master the patronus charm, a spell that too became no longer necessary when his soul had been damaged to the extent it is. Dementors have no interest in him. What remains of his soul would be a poor feed."
"What's the spell?"
"One that creates the opposite effect of a patronus. Instead of overwhelming them with a positive force, it wards them off with something that replicates the feeling they exude. A dementor has no interest in feasting upon something like themselves."
"And that works?"
"Indeed. It creates quite the unpleasant atmosphere, but it will repel them the same way. It is a case of two extremes on opposite sides having the same effect. It does not happen often in magic, but here it is viable"
"Maybe I should learn that one."
"Why the sudden interest?"
"I've just learned that there are creatures out there that can eat my soul," Harry pointed out. "I'm not keen on that idea."
Tom chuckled.
"The chances of you ever encountering one are very slim, Harry. Out of my own curiosity, who was it that managed to escape."
"Some bloke named Sirius Black," Harry shrugged.
"Black?" Tom questioned, surprised.
"One of Voldemort's then?" Harry questioned, his interest in the man rising considerably.
Tom laughed.
"Sirius Black was one of the staunchest to oppose Voldemort. He was the one member of the illustrious clan that fought for the other side. What did he do to end up in Azkaban?"
"From what I heard, he killed twelve muggles and some other wizard," Harry explained, his interest waning.
"That doesn't sound right," Tom muttered. "Black was nothing like the rest of his family. Killing muggles is completely out of character for him. On many occasions, he defended them from Voldemort and his followers, putting his life on the line in the process."
"Well, that's what he is guilty of," Harry returned evenly.
Tom hummed thoughtfully. There had to be more to the story.
"Anyway, the train is slowing down. I should probably get my robes on."
He frowned as they came to a halt. One look out of the window confirmed that they were not in Hogsmeade but surrounded still by the English countryside.
"Great, we've broken down," he grumbled, throwing himself back into his seat.
He sat impatiently for a few moments before the lights began to flicker and cut out completely, eliciting another groan from the boy now shrouded in darkness and screams from the other passengers.
"Oh, it just gets better."
"You need to focus on your occlumency, Harry," Tom instructed urgently. "Lock the door with the strongest spell you have and don't give them any reason to attack."
"What's going on?" Harry questioned as he cast a plethora of locking charms and tried to steady his thoughts.
The temperature was dropping rapidly which made the task that more difficult. He frowned as the windows began to frost over and shivered as he felt a presence in his mind.
"Dementors, Harry. I will do all I can to keep them out of here. Do not draw your wand on them."
His shivering intensified as he caught sight of a black cloak drifting past his window.
"Not Harry," a woman's voice pleaded in his head.
"Move aside, girl…"
A feminine scream rent the confines of his mind and a bead of sweat ran down his cheek as he fought back the memories of a dream long passed. A flash of green light illuminated his vision and he choked on his tears.
"I'm here, Harry," Tom spoke comfortingly. "Remember when you first learnt you were a wizard and we went to the alley. Remember the look on your family's faces when they realised you knew the truth. Focus on it, Harry."
He did so, and though the memories did not warm him, it was enough to cling to until the train sputtered into life once more and the lights came on.
Harry released a staggered breath as he collapsed in his seat.
"Chocolate will help with the aftereffects."
Harry nodded as he retrieved a chocolate frog from his trunk that had been there since Christmas. He devoured it and immediately felt warmth spread throughout him.
"Slim chance, right?" he huffed.
"Whoever sanctioned that, is a fool," Tom grumbled. "Dementors have no place around children."
Harry nodded his agreement. It was a foolish thing to do.
(BREAK)
Unfortunately, it proved to be unlikely that this would be the one and only time he would have to experience the Azkaban guards. He learned during the welcoming feast that they would be stationed around the school and surrounding village until Sirius Black was recaptured, much to the apparent annoyance of the headmaster.
For Harry, it did nothing but steel his resolve to be able to keep them away from him. His mind was full of unpleasant memories and he didn't need those creatures bringing them to the forefront of his mind when he had worked so hard to keep them at bay.
"We will work on the spell, Harry," Tom promised.
He nodded as the students were dismissed and stood to head towards the tower.
"Blimey, Harry, did you swallow a bottle of skelegro over the summer?" Terry questioned.
Harry chuckled in response. Terry was one of the few people he could tolerate. He didn't try to impose himself often and was quite a bright lad in his own way.
"Not that I know of," he shrugged.
He used to be around the same height as the other boy but now stood three inches taller. He couldn't be certain if the growth was natural or one of the effects of the ritual he'd completed, but he was now taller than most in his year, other than the gangly Ron Weasley and another Gryffindor boy he was often seen with.
When they arrived at the Ravenclaw Tower, he made his excuses so that he could go to his hidden room on the seventh floor under the guise of going to bed.
He had missed the castle, especially his sanctuary, the inn he stayed at in Knockturn Alley being unsavoury at best. It did, however, provide him with ample privacy.
"So, what are we working on tonight?" Harry questioned.
"I believe it would be prudent for us to begin on the spell to fend off the dementors. As much as the Ministry believe they can control them, being around an atmosphere like Hogwarts could prove too much for them to resist."
Harry couldn't disagree, and he certainly had no desire to fall victim to one of the, that decided it no longer wanted to cooperate with the wishes of the ministry.
"How does it work?"
(BREAK)
It was an odd experience having a Defence Professor who knew what he was doing. Compared to Quirrell and Lockhart, Lupin was exceptional. The man knew the topic he was teaching, was happy to answer any questions students asked and, often, had them completing practical work. For the first time since arriving at the school, Harry felt that the lessons were worth-while.
"Today, we will be studying Boggarts," the man announced cheerily. "Can anyone tell me what a Boggart is? Harry?"
Harry had not raised but humoured the man, nonetheless.
"It is a shapeshifting creature that has the ability to turn into what any person it encounters fear the most. Other than causing distress, it is mostly harmless, so it is categorised as a lesser dangerous creature. Its' only truly effective on individuals, mostly those that cannot recognise what it is."
"Excellent, take five points for Ravenclaw," Lupin responded with a smile. "Through considerable fortune, I have managed to source a Boggart that had hidden itself in the staff room of the castle. We will be spending the remainder of the lesson practicing banishing one. "Mr. Boot, can you tell me how this is done?"
"You have to imagine the thing you fear as something amusing. You can turn the Boggart into this using the incantation Ridikulus."
"Very good, Mr Boot. Take five points for yourself," Lupin praised. "That is the correct defence against the creature, but the best way to deal with it is laughter," he added. "Now, follow me."
The class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws rose from their seats and did so, taking the stairs down to an area on the second floor where no teaching rooms were. Lupin knocked and pushed open one of the few doors here and beckoned for them to enter.
"Ah, Professor Snape," he greeted the potions master, "we were just about to deal with the Boggart in here. You're more than welcome to join us."
The man's lip curled in distaste.
"No, I think not. I have yet to see any but one of your students prove they are capable of even the simplest of tasks, Lupin. I would exercise caution allowing some of these to even draw a wand, let alone use it," he advised before exiting in a billowing of his cloak.
Lupin frowned at the retreating Snape before smiling brightly once more.
"Who would like to go first?"
Harry spent the remainder of the lesson watching his classmates be called up one by one to take their turn in banishing the boggart. Admittedly, it was a rather amusing spectacle. He found himself less amused, however, when it was his turn to tackle the creature and Lupin stepped in front of him and sent it back into the wardrobe.
"That was excellent, very well done. As you can see, laughter is the best way to deal with a boggart. Each of you take a point for your house. Dismissed."
He thought about confronting the man about his interference but decided against it and followed the rest of his class from the room.
"I believe that he did not want to run the risk of Voldemort in a classroom, Harry. It would have caused considerable upset. Though, I do find his appointment rather strange. Were the parents of the students to learn that their children are being taught by a werewolf, there would be mass outcry."
"A werewolf?" Harry whispered as he paused mid-step.
"Yes, he was one of the few that stood against Voldemort and I believe a close friend of your parents, just as Sirius Black was. All of them were members of the Order of the Phoenix."
"Wait, you mean Black as in the prisoner? He was a friend of my parents?"
"Yes, along with Lupin. I didn't know any personally well but that was the intelligence received on them."
"Why hasn't he said anything?" Harry mused aloud.
"Perhaps he does not know what to say. Maybe he feels guilty for not being there for you or what happened to your parents."
"Maybe," Harry answered with a frown. "I suppose he is here to help keep an eye out for Black. If they were friends, he'll have more of a chance of finding him than anyone else."
"My thoughts exactly, Harry."
(BREAK)
"I really think I should go there someday, Tom. Just to say my goodbyes."
Halloween had come once more to the castle and Harry found himself in the owlery as he had the previous year with his beloved companion. Hedwig had been perhaps the best investment he had made. It wasn't often he used her for the purpose she was bred for, only to order ingredients for his rituals in reality, but she was a great source of comfort and was always happy to see him. Besides, Hermione still made use of her regularly, so it wasn't like she was bereft of letters to deliver.
"When you're ready, Harry," Tom agreed. "Perhaps there will still be something to salvage from the home."
He hoped so. He'd never even seen a picture of his parents let alone held anything they possessed other than gold from his vault. He would give it all for something of them. It was a strange feeling to the boy, but the older he grew, the more he wanted to learn of them. They had brought him into the world and had been taken from it soon after, leaving behind his wealth and questions that he wanted answered.
"Lupin would be able to tell you about them and McGonagall and Flitwick also," Tom added hopefully.
"Maybe," Harry sighed. "I don't want glorified tales of them. I want to know them for who they were, what made them so respected and even their flaws. I want to know it all, Tom."
He wiped away an errant tear as he checked the map, frowning at the amount of activity within the castle. It was past midnight and all the students were gathering in the Great Hall.
"Something must have happened," he muttered as he draped his cloak over himself, ensuring he was suitably covered.
He worked his way through the corridors until he reached the Great Hall to find a confused cohort of students and Professors in a panic.
"For the love of Merlin, he has to be here," Professor McGonagall whispered furiously to Flitwick. "Black couldn't have taken him. He certainly would not have gone quietly."
"He was not seen at the feast nor all evening by any of his housemates," the charms professor explained. "Albus will find him."
Frowning, Harry hid behind a suit of armour and removed his cloak before approaching the pair.
"Find who?" he asked.
"Where on earth have you been, Potter?" the deputy headmistress demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and relief.
"In the owlery," Harry replied. "It's the anniversary of their death. I wanted some time alone."
McGonagall offered him a sad smile of understanding as she nodded.
"Well, you're here now. We have had a rather unfortunate incident. You will be sleeping in here tonight whilst a search of the castle and grounds is carried out."
Harry frowned once more.
"Why would you be worried that Sirius Black was coming for me?"
The woman's eyes widened guiltily as she looked towards her colleague for support.
"I stand by my position. Harry has a right to know the truth," Flitwick responded.
"What truth?"
McGonagall sighed and nodded reluctantly.
"I agree. You should know of the danger you're in. Follow me, Potter."
Harry did so with Flitwick in tow also with his wand drawn, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny the trio passed on their way to the transfiguration professor's office.
"Take a seat, Harry," she instructed when they arrived. "Would you like some tea, maybe a ginger newt?"
"No, thank you," Harry replied, his confusion growing.
The woman released a deep breath as she sat opposite him.
"What do you know of Sirius Black, Harry?" she asked unusually gently.
"Just that he escaped from Azkaban a few months ago," he shrugged.
"Well, the reason Black went to prison was because he murdered twelve muggles and a fellow wizard, but there is more. During the war, your parents went into hiding when you were born to protect you…"
"The prophecy, Harry."
"They were placed under the best protection available, the Fidelius Charm, have you heard of it?"
Harry shook his head.
"The Fidelius Charm is a very complex piece of magic. It is cast to protect something from even the most determined of wizards. Under the charm, it simply cannot be found, however, it does have drawbacks. For it to work, a secret keeper is needed to protect the place under it," Flitwick explained.
"Sirius Black was your parent's secret keeper. He is the reason that You-Know-Who was able to attack them and you that Halloween night. He told the Dark Lord of the location" McGonagall informed him. "I thought that he had managed to get to you tonight."
Harry felt nothing but rage pounding through his veins and he shot to his feet.
"That is incorrect, Harry. Sirius Black did not give Voldemort their location."
Harry paused and attempted to compose himself, his breathing heavy as the fury was mixed with confusion.
"So, you think he wants to kill me?"
"That is the only logical reason he would attempt such a risky move, though it does not explain why he targeted Gryffindor Tower. It is common knowledge that you did not follow in your parent's footsteps and ended up in Ravenclaw."
"I expect the man is deranged," Flitwick interjected. "Twelve years in Azkaban is more than enough for even the strongest of wizards to crack."
McGonagall nodded her agreement.
"I need you to promise me that you will not go looking for him," McGonagall demanded. "Please, Harry."
Harry nodded slowly.
"I won't look for him, but If I come across anyone that had anything to do with what happened to my parents, I will kill them," he vowed.
"Thank you," McGonagall responded, ignoring his final comment. "Come, we will escort you back to the Great Hall. The search of the grounds will take hours yet."
Harry followed the two professors, his understanding of the situation no clearer than before the conversation had taken place.
"Black did not betray your parents, Harry," Tom reiterated. "It was a spy of Voldemort's, another named Peter Pettigrew."
"Who was the wizard Black murdered, professor?" Harry asked. "You mentioned the muggles and a wizard."
"Oh, he was friend of your parents and even Black, another one of the so-called marauders," McGonagall huffed irritably. "Peter Pettigrew was his name. He managed to corner Black and was killed."
Harry paused immediately. Something did not add up about the situation. Why would Pettigrew corner Black when it was he who was guilty? The only logical explanation was that it was the other way around, but how did Black end up in Azkaban.
"I do not know," Tom sighed. "Ascertaining the truth should have been simple enough. Veritaserum would have done that."
Something was off. If it was so simple to verify the truth, why hadn't it been done?
"Potter?" McGonagall pressed, noticing he was no longer following.
"Sorry, professor, you said the marauders?" he questioned, the other part of her sentence piquing his curiosity.
"A band of pranksters," the woman grumbled. "Your father, Black, Pettigrew and even Professor Lupin. Those four are responsible for much of the greys I have. Believe me, I am relieved you did not follow in their footsteps, Potter. I have enough trouble with the Weasley twins."
And there it was, the something he wanted; anything that belonged to one of his parents. His heart warmed at the thought as he patted his pocket, checking that the map was still there.
"Find yourself a sleeping bag, Potter, and get some rest. We will be in here standing guard," the woman whispered as they entered the darkened hall.
By this point most of the students had fallen asleep and Harry found a space for himself where he dragged one of the unused sleeping bags to. Once he was inside, he pulled it over his head and withdrew the battered piece of parchment from his pocket and lit his wand with a flick.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered.
The map came to life, introducing the four creators leaving Harry just which one of the four was the moniker of his father.
"Pettigrew was Wormtail," Tom explained. "I suppose Lupin would be Moony, given his condition. It truly is a wonderful piece of magic and very advanced for any student to manage."
Harry sighed as he pondered the final names. His father was either Padfoot or Prongs, neither name at all familiar to him. He frowned as a lone dot on the map moved through a hidden tunnel on the grounds of the school.
"There goes Sirius Black," he mouthed.
"Likely an innocent man, Harry. A man that has been punished for a crime he did not commit."
Harry sighed as he cleared the map and placed it back in his pocket. He didn't know the truth of what happened, but all the evidence he had pointed to Black being innocent. Something important, however, was missing and it would need to be gotten to the bottom of.
(BREAK)
The intrusion of Sirius Black on the castle had been the talking point for weeks before the school settled back into normality, well, as normal as it could be with the knowledge that the dementors were only a short distance outside of the gates. Lessons resumed as did the student trips to Hogsmeade, something Harry did not partake in. For one thing, he had been told by his head of year that he would be unable to attend as he hadn't had his permission slip signed, and mostly, he had no need to visit the village. With the map, it would be possible, but he had no desire to. He much preferred the warmth of the castle, particularly as a thick blanket of snow had appeared when November had given way to December and the colder months of the school year began.
Besides, he had yet another ritual to prepare for, this one to be completed on the winter solstice, an exceptionally good date for ritualistic magic according to Tom.
This would mark his sixth foray into the practice, the other five having been completed successfully. He found the more he did them, the easier they became though he still had the unfortunate bout of sickness when he was done. The results, however, had proven to be worth the effort thus far. His relationship with his magic was stronger, as per the results of the first ritual. He had managed to increase his magical stamina with the second, his endurance with his third, his healing time with the fourth and his sensitivity to foreign magic with the fifth.
That was the one he'd questioned the most, but Tom had insisted upon it.
"It will help you to recognise different types of magic, what enchantments are in place and if something is cursed. It will be one of the most useful skills to possess if you work on it."
And that was the crux of the ritualistic approach. Just because one had completed a ritual, it didn't mean they automatically reaped all the benefits. The skills and capabilities had to be worked on and developed constantly. The rituals were not a gift of magic but an opportunity to betterment.
It was strange but Harry liked that he had to work on these skills himself. To him, it would have felt ill-gotten had he simply been suddenly blessed with capabilities, cheap even. The rituals were just the beginning but certainly an exceptional boon to his magical practice as a whole. He certainly wouldn't be where he was without them, and when the thirteenth was complete, he would again be much further along his journey than he currently found himself.
The next was the one he was looking forward to most. It was designed to give him a better relationship with natural magic. Once that relationship was formed and strengthened, he would be able to work on more esoteric magic, old magic that had fallen out of favour with the implementation of incantations and wand movements, even elemental magic would be much more open to him, and by Tom's own admission, such types of magic was incredibly useful and amongst the most dangerous to come up against.
There were of course basic elemental practices studied at Hogwarts, but the Aguamenti nor Incendio charm could compare to the true practice of elemental spells. He was excited to be able to add some to his ever-growing arsenal.
Until then, however, he had a Quidditch match to attend. Terry had reminded him that he had not witnessed one the previous year as it had been cancelled at the last minute. With little better to do and welcoming the rest from his practice, he decided he would join the boy for the Ravenclaw Vs Gryffindor match.
"It will be fun," Terry assured him as trundled through the snow and to the stadium in the distance. "Merlin, it is cold."
Harry noticed it too. The grounds were always cold at this time of year, but this was the worst it had been so far.
"Don't forget, the dementors aren't too far away either," he pointed out.
Terry shuddered.
"Don't remind me. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life when they came on the train. Goldstein just about crapped himself."
Harry couldn't bring himself to laugh at the plight of the arrogant boy. The dementors were indeed amongst the foulest creatures in existence and he had no doubt that many had succumbed to that urge throughout history.
"Let's just hope they're gone soon," Harry sighed knowing that it was unlikely. The creatures would remain here for the foreseeable future.
The duo entered the stadium and found seats about midway up in the Ravenclaw stand amongst the rest of their housemates. Harry was surprised by how full the stands were and had thought more would opt to stay in the warmth. Apparently, the love of the sport won out and most of the school was in attendance.
After the need of a few warming charms, the two teams were finally announced, and the game got under way. It was an education for the teen as he watched how each of the positions were played. The chasers and beaters were the busiest, constantly flying to score points or prevent scoring for the latter by aiming bludgers towards the opposing chasers. The Weasley twins, for all their pranking, were an effective duo with their bats and Harry found he quite enjoyed the sport.
Though the keepers were not the busiest when it came to flying, they seemed to be the eyes and ears of the team, shouting instructions and offering tips here and there.
The seekers were the ones to watch when they did pull off a manoeuvre, either diving after the snitch they had seen or attempting to force the other to make a mistake by luring them away from an advantageous position. It was almost as if they were in a game of their own for the most part, rarely, if at all, involving themselves in the action. They kept their distance from the other players, their eyes searching for the elusive glint of gold that would often decide the winner.
It was an interesting experience, but he wouldn't say he had become a fan of the sport.
He cast another warming charm as another stab of coldness broke through the last and frowned when it had no effect.
"Dementors," Tom warned.
Harry scanned the sky for any sign of them and spotted a few drawing ever closer to the stadium, the excitement acting as an all you can eat buffet would to a starving man.
"Shit," he cursed as he drew his wand, the screams from the other revellers who too had spotted them ringing out loudly.
"Focus, Harry," Tom encouraged. "Remember all that you have endured and let it out. Use it."
He had been working on this since he'd arrived at the castle, tapping in to all the negativity his life had consisted of; his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys, the loathing he had been exposed to throughout his years and the murder of his parents. The unwelcome yet familiar sound of his mother pleading for his life in his mind was what spurred him into action as the Azkaban guards entered the grounds.
(BREAK)
It was not often that Albus Dumbledore was able to enjoy the simple pleasure of watching a Quidditch match. His responsibilities as headmaster did not usually allow for such luxuries. Today, however, he had cleared his schedule so that he could attend a match, and to also ensure the safety of his students.
Ever since the Minister had insisted on the presence of the dementors, he had done all he could to convince the man to change his mind, but to no avail. Fudge was adamant that they would remain and had now even begun to ignore his owls and calls. It was most disconcerting.
As the match got underway, he allowed himself to be immersed in the action, though he remained alert to his surroundings. If the Dementors were going to prove him correct, it would take place during an event such as this where euphoria and excitement was rife.
On this occasion, he felt no satisfaction in being right, merely disappointed and angry. He drew his wand to disperse the creatures so that he could insist on another meeting with Cornelius, only to find his intervention was not needed.
He shivered as a wave of coldness much like that of the Dementors washed over him and balls of black magic the size of Quaffles began peppering the creatures and driving them away from the stadium with a series of ear-splitting screeches.
He looked to find the source of such magic and found himself staring at the visage of a very grim Harry Potter, his emerald eyes glaring at the retreating cloaked figures.
"What on earth was that, Albus?" Professor Snape questioned.
"I must admit, Severus, that I am unsure," Dumbledore replied. "Would you mind fetching Harry and bringing him to my office whilst I attempt to contact Cornelius?"
Snape nodded mutely as he left to carry out his task.
Dumbledore too took his leave and left Minerva to continue with bringing an end to the match and escort the students back to the castle. He had never seen such a spell used to drive away the dementors and he was keen to learn just what Harry had done to achieve such a feat.
(BREAK)
Shortly after the stadium had been cleared, Harry found himself seated in front of the headmaster and Professors Snape, Lupin and Flitwick, having been escorted here by the potions master as he ignored the whispers that followed him.
"Would you kindly explain what you did in the stadium, Harry? And just how you manged to drive the Dementors away?" Dumbledore requested.
"It's a spell I've been working on, well, sort of a spell. Since they searched the train, I've been working on the patronus charm. I can form a strong shield but nothing corporeal. You need to have happy memories for that, professor. Without the patronus, I found an alternative."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Just how did you discover it?"
Harry shrugged.
"Dementors feed off negative energy and are aroused by positive. I figured that if you attack them with something equally negative it would have the same effect when they are heightened into a frenzy. Muggles call it fighting fire with fire."
Dumbledore nodded sagely.
"I must say, it was a rather splendid display of magic, though the motivation behind such leaves me concerned."
"No offense, professor, but hearing my mother pleading for her life while a madman laughs outweighs any concern you may have. I will do whatever is necessary to keep them away from me," Harry returned heatedly.
Both Snape and Lupin paled at the revelation and Dumbledore adopted a sympathetic demeanour.
"You have my apologies, Harry. I was not aware that you remembered the event."
"I dreamt of it every night for years, and when they get close, I relive it all over again. I'm sure I can be forgiven for having such hatred towards them."
Dumbledore merely nodded in response.
"So, the spell you used is fuelled by the negative feelings you have?" Lupin broke in interestedly.
"As I said, the patronus doesn't work. You need a happy memory to fuel it sufficiently."
The man frowned at the headmaster before turning his attention back to the teen.
"Could you possibly demonstrate what you have achieved with the charm? Producing even a shield is an extraordinary piece of magic for someone your age."
Harry shrugged as he flicked his wand into his hand.
"Expecto patronum," he whispered.
A bright shield formed at the end of his wand, radiating warmth throughout the room.
"Where did you learn the spell?" Lupin enquired.
"In a book that Professor Flitwick gave me."
Flitwick nodded.
"Forgive me, Professor Lupin, but Harry is exceptionally gifted in charms. He has been progressing at an exceptional pace. I believe the same can be said for his transfiguration work also," Flitwick explained.
"Indeed," Dumbledore answered. "May I ask, Harry, where in the curriculum are you currently working in both subjects?"
"I'm most of the way through sixth year in charms and closer to seventh in transfiguration," he answered.
Not that such a thing counted for much. The curriculum was predominantly studying theory and completing a few examples of spells that supported them. It did little to address the wider aspects of either charms or transfiguration. Both had proven to be little more than a basic understanding of types of magic that fell within the branch.
"That is excellent progress, Harry," Dumbledore praised, "you still continue to astound me with your dedication to your studies."
"I have motivation, professor," Harry returned evenly.
Dumbledore offered him a bow.
"How is he fairing in potions, Severus?"
"He is a competent brewer," Snape responded sagely. "I expect that he will be one of the very few able to progress beyond his OWL examinations."
The headmaster hummed satisfactorily.
"Just one final point of enquiry, Harry. Are you continuing with your work on occlumency?"
Harry nodded. He had received a book from Dumbledore during the summer with a note explaining he had been registered as a practitioner.
"Every night before bed," he confirmed.
"Then keep up the work. The benefits of the art will prove to a great asset to yourself in the future. And do keep working on the patronus charm," he encouraged.
Harry nodded as he took his leave. He had a feeling the man wanted to chastise him for his use of magic in the stadium but could find no grounds to, not without pressing further as to why he didn't have a sufficiently happy memory to fuel the patronus charm.
It seemed that he much preferred the bliss of ignorance or felt that the protections around the Dursleys more than made up for what he had to endure. What he did learn, however, was that the man clearly did not check in him often. Had he done, he would have learned that Harry had not been in the home for considerably more than a year.
(BREAK)
He read the letter he had received once more before folding it up and placing it in his pocket with a frown. Ever since Halloween, he had been pondering what mistake had been made pertaining to Sirius Black and his evident, or what he came to believe, lack of evident betrayal of his parents. It had begun to irk him that he could not piece together just what had happened upon his capture.
Tom continued to insist that Pettigrew had been the one to inform Voldemort of the Potters whereabouts and not Black as the wizarding population believed. Something had to have gone amiss or someone had purposely ensured Black was blamed, but what or who?
"You must tread very carefully, Harry," Tom had warned when he decided he would seek out the truth, if only to have the dementors removed from the nearby village.
It had taken much time to formulate a plan that would give him the truth he sought, and to do so, he needed assistance.
Firstly, he needed evidence of just what process had been followed to imprison Black, and as such, he had penned a letter to the Head of the DMLE playing the role perfectly of a poor orphan teen who wanted to ensure justice was served to the man responsible for the death of his parents. He had formally requested a transcript of the trial and interviews surrounding the case and the reply he had just received was as damning as it was frustrating.
With a shake of his head in disbelief, he pulled the letter from his pocket once more.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I would first like to ensure you that we are doing all we can to apprehend Sirius Black.
As to your request, I am unable to provide you with official documentation as it is held in the strictest of confidence for the privacy and protection of all involved. However, as you have a personal affiliation with the case, I can inform you, without going into specific details, that I was unable to locate any such transcripts pertaining to his trial. This is a rather unusual occurrence that I will be investigating, of that you can be assured.
Please accept my apology for this oversight. I will have this corrected as soon as possible and will inform you of my progress.
I would like to point out that records of trials are not permitted to be removed under any circumstances unless permission is granted by the Minister of Magic himself. From my investigations so far, no person with authority to make such a request has done so.
It is also my duty to inform you that should I be unsuccessful in my efforts to locate the document in question, Sirius Black will have to stand once trial again upon his capture to ensure due process has been carried out.
Again, you have my apologies for this.
On a personal note, if you do wish to raise a complaint of how your request has been handled or you are dissatisfied with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's service, I would suggest that you write directly to the minister of magic himself. I am certain that he would be very accommodating to yourself and any needs you have.
Regards,
Amelia Bones
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement
"What does that even mean?" he grumbled.
"Amelia Bones is no fool, Harry. If she has been unable to locate a transcript then there is a strong chance a trial never took place. From what we know, it is the only explanation that makes any sense. Her position, however, is a difficult one. There is very little she can do without repercussions for herself. I believe she is inviting you to take whatever action you feel is needed, without implicating her."
"What would you suggest?"
"Caution, Harry. We must think carefully before we act. It is unlikely that Black will be captured. He has managed so far. We must ensure that we have all the facts before we move forward."
Harry nodded as he left the owlery and began making his way back towards the Ravenclaw common room. He was so lost in his thoughts that he unintentionally bumped into someone as they exited the library and sent dozens of sheets of parchment they were carrying all over the corridor.
"Sorry," he muttered as he gathered them up with a wave of his wand and handed them to the girl. "Hermione?" The girl looked to be exhausted, her hair in disarray and the bags under her eyes prominent. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, Hi Harry, I was just finishing my homework," she answered tiredly.
"I didn't realise homework had that effect on you," Harry deadpanned. "What class needs that much of it anyway?"
"Well, we get lots for runes and arithmancy. Muggle studies and care of magical creatures isn't so bad, but I still have the normal load too."
"Merlin, you're doing four extra classes?" he questioned.
The girl shrugged.
"I dropped Divination," she defended.
"Bloody hell, I think you need to drop another two, you're half dead."
Hermione sighed as she shook her head.
"I'm fine," she insisted. "I'm trying to help Hagrid also. That's taking up a lot of my time. Fourth year will be easier."
"Helping Hagrid?"
"With his trial, well Buckbeak's," she corrected with a frown.
"Who's Buckbeak?"
"A Hippogriff who attacked Malfoy," Hermione explained. "Well, he was an idiot and insulted him and got injured because of it. His father is insisting that Buckbeak is executed."
Harry released a deep breath.
"If Lucius Malfoy is insisting on it, there's nothing you can do, Hermione."
"I have to try," she hissed angrily. "No one else will stand up for him."
Harry shook his head at the girl.
"Then I wish you good luck, Hermione. People like Malfoy tend to get exactly what he wants."
"I know," she huffed. "If only Hagrid wasn't so fascinated with dangerous creatures. First a dragon and now this."
"A dragon?"
"He hatched one in first year. Luckily, we managed to convince him to hand it over to Ron's brother before it got too big. He works at a reserve in Romania."
"Bloody hell, that could have been bad. The man lives in a wooden house."
"I said the same thing," she huffed. "Anyway, I have to go. This homework won't finish itself."
"Take care, Hermione," Harry offered as the girl left.
She offered him a wan smile in response before she vanished, and Harry could turn his attention once more to his own problems. He was certain how to proceed, but he would need to make a decision. As far as he knew, it had been left up to him if he wanted to pursue the matter. Truthfully. He did, he just did not know the best way to proceed.
He released a deep breath as he pushed open the door to the common room and was met by the laughter of many of his housemates. This noise was one of the reasons he avoided spending time here. It was as distracting as it was irritating.
"Does Loony want her stuff back?" a sixth year named Roger Davis seemingly mocked a small blonde as he held a book out of reach of the girl.
"I think she is actually going to cry," Cho Chang snorted, gaining a laugh from several members of the house. "Oh, there she goes."
Harry felt his ire being provoked as he watched mostly older students mocking and bullying the girl. Harry hated bullies more than anything else. He had spent much of his life being a victim and seeing another being made to feel the same way sickened him. Those that were not involved in what was transpiring were pointedly looking away, feigning ignorance to it.
"Harry," Tom warned as he approached his housemates, a forced grin adorning his features.
"What's so funny, Davis?" he asked.
Roger didn't even deign him with a look as he continued to dangle the book above the girl.
"Just having some fun with Loony," the boy replied, his grin firmly in place.
"Ah, well I like to have fun too," Harry replied as he drew his wand.
"Have at it," Roger shrugged indifferently.
Harry met the teary gaze of the younger girl and swallowed deeply. She was scared, just as he had once been. He offered her a smile before turning his attention back to the older boy and firing a spell.
Roger screamed in agony as he collapsed to the ground clutching his hand.
"What are you doing, Potter?" Chang demanded.
The rest of the house were watching the development, many shocked by what Harry had just done.
"I'm just having some fun," Harry replied with a smirk as he hit the boy with another spell, this time hitting his foot.
"Potter, stop it," one of the seventh-year prefects demanded.
"Oh, so now you decide to do your job," Harry bit back. "What, so it is acceptable to pick on a second year but when someone has a crack at one of your friends, it's not okay?"
"You broke his hand," Chang interjected.
"No," Harry denied. "I'm having fun. Isn't this what fun is? Enjoying yourself at someone else's expense? WELL?" he demanded furiously. "Get up, Davis, unless there is anyone else who wants to join in the fun. You were all happy enough when it was against a little girl so why not me?"
"It's only a joke, Potter," Chang defended.
"Does Luna look like she is joking?" Harry bit back. "What I did to Davis was a joke in my eyes. Should I do it again?"
Chang shook her head as the common room door opened, admitting a confused Professor Flitwick.
"Who is casting offensive magic?" he squeaked irritably.
"I was just having some fun, professor," Harry responded when his housemates turned to him. "Apparently, causing people pain and misery is what we do for fun here, isn't that right, Davis?"
"Excuse me?" Flitwick pressed as he took in the sight of one of his sixth years curled in a ball on the floor.
"Well, I returned to the common room to find quite a few members having fun at the expense of a second-year girl. I decided I didn't want to miss out and had some fun of my own. I think we should make it a regular thing, professor. Whenever people want to have fun with Luna, I get to have fun with them."
"Are you insinuating that there is bullying taking place?"
"Not at all, professor. I saw it with my own eyes," Harry responded.
The usual cheery demeanour of the man vanished as his eyes swept around the room, taking in the guilty looks of those in his house.
"You two, escort Mr Davis to the hospital wing," he barked at a couple of seventh years. "Miss Lovegood, I would like you to join me in my office, and Mr Potter? That will be a week of detentions for attacking a fellow student."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"Let's just hope I do not have reason to again," he sighed threateningly.
"Potter! I will get to the bottom of this," Flitwick assured him firmly as he escorted Luna from the room.
When he was gone, Harry turned his attention to the room, his fury still threatening to boil over.
"I will say this once and once only. If anyone even thinks about bullying that girl once more, what I did to Davis will seem like a joke., you bunch of cowards."
He took his leave through the common room door, leaving behind a rather subdued house. Potter had always been quiet, never once involving himself with the house in any way. They certainly had never seen him angry and what he had done to Roger Davis had certainly got their attention.
(BREAK)
Word of what happened within the tower spread quickly and Harry once again found himself as the talking point of the school, much to is chagrin. Unwittingly, he had created a divide within the house of those that supported what he'd done and those that still followed Roger, though Harry was unaware that a political climate had existed. According to Terry, Roger had been unofficially in control of the house on a student level and Harry attacking him had taken a lot of that power away and Harry had unintentionally carved a reputation for himself of being one not to cross.
Tom had explained that having such a reputation was both a good and bad thing. It meant there were less that would try to assert their authority over him, but those that did would do so with more vigour.
True to his thoughts, Davis had not taken what Harry had done to him well and had attempted to seek retribution on the younger boy. It had not ended well for the sixth year who once more had to spend time under the care of Madame Pomfrey when he had very publicly attempted to attack Harry. As a result, Davis and two of his friends had spent a couple of days in the Hospital Wing and Harry earned another weeks' worth of detention. Not that he cared. Davis had gotten less than what he deserved, and Harry's reputation only increased with his public putting down of the sixth year.
There had been no further attempt by Roger and Harry could once more turn his attention to the thing currently plaguing him; the issue of Sirius Black.
He had yet to decide on what he would do to get to the truth of what happened. He had attempted to send the man a letter, but wherever he was, he could not be found by an owl. Hedwig had been most displeased that she could not carry out her task. As such, Harry faced quite the conundrum. The only option he could see as viable was to anonymously tip of the media about the missing transcript, though he was loath to do so. That would mean putting himself further into the limelight, something he had done all he could to avoid since entering the wizarding world.
Thankfully, there was only a few weeks left of the school year, then he would be free for the summer, free from Davis and his lackeys and free to continue with his own plans.
He had only two more rituals to complete in the series and then he would be done for the time being, the next he would do was not able to be carried out until the next winter solstice.
Since December, he had been working on exploring his newfound relationship with natural magic, but progress was slow. He found that it was complex, much more than anything else he had studied other than perhaps arithmancy. Natural magic relied on specific training and was not covered in general magic use like most of the results of his rituals were. It was something he had to make time for to focus on and could not rely on his standard drills as he could for the others.
Pushing the thoughts of his rituals aside, he exited the common room, ignoring the respectful nods of his housemates as he passed. The fifth and seventh years were sitting their OWLS and NEWTS respectively this week, so it was more than likely that the Quidditch pitch would be free. It had been some time since he had been flying and he needed a reprieve from his workload.
He audibly groaned as he reached the entrance hall and was accosted by the transfiguration professor.
"Come with me, Potter," she demanded.
With a deep sigh, he followed the woman. He couldn't fathom what she could possibly want with him. Since his last altercation with Davis, he had kept himself out of trouble, as far as he knew.
She beckoned for him to join her in her office and offered him a seat whilst she took the one opposite.
"I apologise if I have interrupted something important, but I would like you to do something for me," she explained as she slid a rather thick booklet of parchment towards him. "This is the transfiguration OWL exam for the year. I would like you to complete it. You have two hours," she informed him as she placed a quill and a pot of ink on the desk.
"Erm professor…"
"There is no talking allowed during an exam, Potter," the woman chastised.
Harry frowned in confusion as he opened the book and read the first question.
"How many Principal Exceptions are there to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"
He dipped the quill in the ink and began writing, ignoring the expectant look of the transfiguration mistress as she watched him carry out his work.
(BREAK)
He finished the final sentence with a flourish before McGonagall snatched the paper away from him and rose from her seat.
"Please, wait here, Potter. I will return shortly."
She left leaving a very confused Harry in her wake. The exam wasn't as difficult as he had expected it to be. It mostly consisted of questions based on theory, but with the clear assumption that the candidate sitting it would be able to understand and elaborate on the topic of discussion. Harry had done this as best he could and had almost run out of time as a result.
He released a deep breath from the unexpected exertion and waited as he had been instructed.
The door opened again around ten minutes later and McGonagall entered with a woman who was even older than her, much to Harry's surprise. The deputy headmistress took her seat as the woman stared at him speculatively for a moment before nodding seemingly to herself.
"Okay, Potter, my name is Madame Marchbanks. If you would please stand, then we may begin."
Harry did so and the woman waved her wand, transfiguring the chair he had vacated into a small table.
"I would like you to transfigure this rat into a goblet. Bonus points are available for additional detail," she explained she put the squirming rodent on the table.
Harry froze it with a flick of his wand. He visualised what result he wanted to achieve, and the rat shifted, landing on the desk with a clunk when he was finished.
"Very good, Potter," the woman praised as she inspected is bronze goblet with the Hogwarts crest engraved into it. "Non-verbally too and good use of a freezing charm to still it."
Harry offered a respectful bow as she pocketed the goblet.
"Now, I would like you to reverse the transfiguration I did on the chair and tell me how I could improve the quality of the work."
Harry frowned, but did not carry out the transfiguration first. Instead, he placed his hand on the makeshift table and felt for the magic within.
"You weakened the structural integrity of it by not enlarging the screws to accommodate for the increase in surface area. So, if I were to sit on it, it would not be able to support my weight," he explained as he turned it back into the chair it naturally was.
The woman raised an eyebrow at him and nodded approvingly.
"Demonstrate your explanation, please, Mr Potter."
Harry shrugged as he did so, ensuring that the construct maintained its' integrity when the shape of the wood was remoulded."
"Good. Finally, I would like you to demonstrate a piece of transfiguration of your own choice. It can be anything you like so long as it is done competently."
Harry pondered what he would like to demonstrate before nodding thoughtfully and focusing. After a few moments, his work was complete, and he snatched it out of the air to inspect. Satisfied, he handed it to the woman who scrutinised it much deeper than himself, humming as she did so.
"This is exceptionally advanced work, Potter," she commented. "Explain how you achieved this."
"I created the train first, focusing on the working parts to ensure it would be able to move around the tracks. I then conjured and warped the glass around leaving a gap to cast the magic to create the falling snow and the charm to syphon it away so that it would not just fill up and eventually explode from the pressure. I then sealed the ball and cast the unbreakable charm on it," he explained.
"And what charm did you use to create the snow?" Marchbanks asked with a frown.
"It is an elemental spell, Madame. It's not a charm."
The woman shook her head as she chuckled to herself as McGonagall stared at him in disbelief.
"It is not often I am asked to examine a student younger than those of the age to sit these exams, Mr. Potter, but I made and exception for Professor McGonagall. She was quite insistent that you were ready. I find myself in agreement with her. I am astonished at the level you have demonstrated in both charms and transfiguration and utterly flabbergasted by your use of elemental magic. Did you know about this, Minerva?"
The woman shook her head.
"Not only is your work excellent, you completed it with finesse worthy of praise. Despite what your other examinations in the future hold, I believe you would be remiss if you did not dedicate serious focus to transfiguration and charms. The former has so few masters of the subject and I believe you would have a prosperous career. Take it from a woman who has been examining students for over seventy years, Potter. You have a real gift."
"Thank you, Madame," Harry responded, unsure of how to react to the praise bestowed upon him.
"Professor Flitwick is waiting for you, Potter," McGonagall broke in. "I imagine Madame Marchbanks will be there also to test you on charms."
"Unnecessary," the woman dismissed. "Potter has demonstrated more than enough for me to work with. Go and sit the theory exam. You will hear from us during the summer."
Harry could only nod dumbly as he left the room wondering what on earth was happening.
(BREAK)
It was that very evening that Harry drifted lazily across the length of the quidditch pitch on one of the school brooms, pondering the strange events of the day.
"You earned those opportunities, Harry," Tom assured him. "I have had very little input on your charms and transfiguration work. That was all you. You have proven to be a natural at both and are reaping the benefits of your efforts."
Harry smiled despite himself. He had worked exceedingly hard in the subjects, both coming rather easily to him but needing to be honed and nurtured.
"I know," he agreed with a sigh. "I just don't know what to think."
"It means that your professors believe in you. That is why they have pushed you so hard this year."
Harry nodded. Flitwick and McGonagall had been rather tough on him, pushing him much further than he'd expected. He smiled again as he dived towards the ground and allowed the tips of his toes to skim along the grass. Even though his day had been interrupted, he had still managed to make time for a fly.
He pulled his broom to a stop as he heard a scream coming from the grounds.
"What was that?"
He took to the sky once more as the screaming increased by grew distant. He hot towards it just in time to see a redheaded figure be pulled into the roots of the Whomping Willow and a lone girl shouting helplessly before a branch of the violent tree felled her with a flail of one of its' branches.
"Hermione," Harry called as he disembarked from his broom and shook the girl.
Her eyes fluttered open before she dissolved into a panic.
"RON?" she called.
"Hermione, what's happening?"
"It took Ron. The dog. It took Ron in there," she hurriedly explained as she pointed dramatically.
"Go and get Dumbledore," Harry instructed, "or any teacher you come across first. I'll try and get him."
He held up a hand to prevent the protest he felt coming.
"GO," he said firmly.
The girl shot to her feet and sprinted towards the castle as fast as her legs could carry her.
"What are you doing?" Tom asked as Harry approached the tree with his map in hand.
"Sirius Black is padfoot," he sighed. "Large dog. I have no idea what he wants with Weasley, but we have to stop him doing something that will land him in Azkaban for a legitimate reason."
"Be careful," Tom cautioned. "We do not know his mental state. He could be much more dangerous you expect."
Harry nodded as he threw himself to the ground and rolled towards the tree roots, the branch that followed grazing his cheek before he could slip into the opening.
He ignored the trickle of blood running down his cheek as he lit his wand and found himself in a cramped tunnel.
"Silence yourself, Harry."
Harry did so with a wave of his wand and made his way across the uneven ground, ducking from time to time to avoid scraping is head on the low ceiling. Eventually, the tunnel turned sharply in an upwards direction and Harry was faced with a trap door.
Carefully, he pushed it open and looked upon a room that had been trashed. Broken pieces of furniture littered the floor and there were deep scratch marks in the wall.
Seeing nor hearing anyone within the room, he pushed it open and climbed in, his wand ready to defend himself should he need to. It was when he was halfway across the room, he heard a pained whimper, and he increased his pace to reach the source.
"Where is Wormtail?" a hoarse voice demanded.
"Who is Wormtail? I don't know what you mean," the voice of Ron Weasley replied desperately.
"DO NOT LIE TO ME!"
Another whimper sounded and Harry cracked the door open soundlessly. Inside, he could see the pale Weasley propped up against the wall with a man stood in front with his back to Harry.
Slipping on his cloak, Harry pushed the door and stepped in, the opening causing the man to turn his attention to it. The first thing Harry noticed was that he looked very unwell. He was deathly thin and paler than any person should be. The next was the murderous glint in his eye. This man was ready to kill to get what he wanted.
He laughed as he turned back to Weasley.
"The most haunted building in Hogsmeade," he shrugged. "Now, I will only ask you one more time. Where is the rat?"
"The only rat I know is my pet, Scabbers," the boy answered weakly.
"And how long have you had this rat?"
"I've had him for three years, he was my brothers before that," Ron explained frantically.
"Hmm, rather strange for a common rat to live so long, don't you think?"
Harry's eyes widened at the implication. Pettigrew had hidden himself as a pet with the Weasleys. But how did Black know that?
Carefully, he made his way across the room as he slipped his wand out of a gap in the cloak and hit the redhead with a stunner before revealing himself.
Black stood and pointed his wand at him, his arm falling limply to his side as he took in his appearance.
"James?" he questioned hopefully.
"Harry," the teen replied.
To his shock, the man burst into tears as he dropped his wand and fell to his knees.
"It wasn't me, Harry, I promise it wasn't me. You have to believe it. Peter, the rat…"
"I know," Harry interjected harshly.
"H-how?"
"That doesn't matter. We must be quick. Dumbledore is on his way and I need you to do something for me."
"Anything, I'll do anything, Harry."
"Did you have a trial?"
Sirius shook his head.
"They threw me in Azkaban and left me to rot," he grumbled.
"Okay, I can work with that. I need you to go. Find somewhere to lie low and write an open letter to the Daily Prophet explaining what happened."
"They'll never believe me, Harry."
"They will if you have my help. I've already laid the groundwork with the DMLE, but you have to trust me. You being here is a bad idea. If Dumbledore catches you, he will have to call the aurors."
"But, Pettigrew…"
"Will be caught eventually. We cannot completely clear your name if he is dead."
Sirius huffed as he nodded his understanding.
"Why are you helping me?"
"I don't think my dad would want one of his best friends being blamed for something he didn't do," Harry answered sincerely.
Sirius smiled, his eyes alight with warmth at the mention of the man.
"You look like him, Harry, so very much. But you look like her also."
"We will have all the time in the world to make comparisons later. You need to leave now," Harry urged.
"It is a little late for that," a voice sounded at the door.
Harry turned to find an uncharacteristically angry Professor Lupin stood with his wand pointed at his former friend.
"Dumbledore is on his way with the aurors, Sirius."
"Moony?"
"You don't get to call me that," the man hissed. "You lost that right the night James and Lily were murdered because of you."
"Moony, it wasn't me. I wasn't their secret keeper. Wormtail…"
"Even you wouldn't be that stupid," Lupin denied.
"He's telling the truth," Harry broke in irritably. "Sirius didn't even have a trial. Why would I help the person who helped murder my parents escape?"
The man faltered slightly, his wand dropping an inch or so.
"But…"
"It wasn't me," Sirius declared once more. "I could never do that to Lily and James. I would have died before giving them up."
Lupin swallowed deeply as he nodded.
"I wanted to believe that, Sirius. All these years I wanted to believe there was a mistake, that you hadn't followed the rest of your family."
"I didn't, not ever. You were my family. You, James, Lily and Harry."
The man's lower lip trembled as he nodded and choked on the emotion he felt.
"Bloody hell, Lupin, he needs to get out of here."
"I'll get you some time to escape," the professor vowed as he left the room.
"What about him?" Sirius asked jerking a thumb towards the unconscious Weasley.
"I'll handle it, just go," Harry urged.
The man nodded and bound through the door, changing into a large, black dog midleap.
When he was gone, Harry revived the redhead with a flick of his wand.
"Come one Weasley, we need to get out of here."
"Where is he? Where is Black?"
"He escaped," Harry sighed as he pulled the boy to his feet. "Don't worry, he really is gone."
Weasley nodded uncertainly.
"What are you doing here?"
"I found Hermione trying to get in. She explained what happened and I sent her to get Dumbledore. I came in here to help you."
"You're a mad one, mate," Ron chuckled. "Taking on sixth years and now a murdering nutter?"
Harry snorted.
"How is your sister after last year? I've not seen her much."
"She's getting better," Ron answered with a smile. "It's taking time, but she's getting there. She's still seeing her healer, but mum reckons it's for the best. Thanks to you, she's alright."
Harry dismissed the praise with a wave as he climbed out of the hole and back into the Hogwarts grounds. Thankfully, the tree did not take a swing at him this time as he stayed put to help the redhead out also.
"Blimey, that was terrifying," Ron huffed. "Do you think they'll catch him?"
Any response Harry may have had was cut off by a howl sounding a short distance away.
"What was that?" Ron questioned as he drew his wand.
Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as the howl sounded again, this time, much closer.
"RUN," he shouted.
Ron didn't need telling twice as he took off sprinting, his longer legs putting distance between himself and the trailing Harry.
"You can't outrun it, Harry," Tom panicked. "You will have to fight. Keep your distance and slowly make your way back to the castle."
Harry nodded as he stopped running and turned to face the oncoming werewolf. He took aim and fired an arrow at the creature, eliciting a yelp of fury as it grazed the shoulder but continued pursuing him without breaking its' stride.
"You need something bigger. It is too fast."
Harry sent a stream of fire towards it, slowing its' progress as it halted to avoid being burnt.
"Good now move back, slowly."
Harry managed a few steps before the werewolf was on him once more, forcing him to roll underneath as it pounced in his direction. As he steadied himself, he fired another arrow, this time embedding the projectile into the chest of the beast.
It roared angrily as it pawed at the shaft, snapping it and leaving the head protruding from the flesh. Still, despite being injured, it was intent on attacking.
"You need to use something stronger!"
Reluctantly, Harry transfigured the blades of grass beneath the feet of Lupin into thick, metal spikes, causing another howl to be bellowed as they shot through his feet. He then bent the tips to hold him in place as he conjured a thick coil of chains before using them to secure the limbs and maw of the creature.
For a moment, it fought against them savagely before conceding the loss with a pathetic whine.
Harry fell to his knees breathing heavily and trembling as the adrenaline wore off. Never in his life had he been so fearful that he might be killed, not with the basilisk the previous year and not even when Quirrell had seized him by the throat.
It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, his talent in transfiguration and charms being the thing that had undoubtedly saved his life.
"You did well, Harry," Tom praised.
Harry could only nod as he spotted several figures approaching from the castle, only the tips of their lit wands visible until they were only a few feet from the contained werewolf.
"Merlin, Potter, are you responsible for this?" McGonagall asked, he hand clutching at her chest.
"Wrong place, wrong time, professor," Harry chuckled as he pulled himself to his feet. "It's not his fault," he defended the man. "He came here to help apprehend Sirius Black."
"And where is Black now?" a dark-skinned man in red auror robes questioned.
"Escaped in the chaos," Harry sighed. "My apologies, I couldn't fight the werewolf and keep him here. I'm only bloody thirteen," he added seeing the unamused look of the auror and the few colleagues he had brought. "Maybe if you were here, then you could have dealt with both."
"Give the lad credit, Kingsley," a heavily scarred man intervened. "I don't know any kid that could deal with a werewolf as effectively as that. Black will show himself eventually."
The other man nodded as he turned his attention to the werewolf.
"Would you like us to take him, Albus?"
The headmaster shook his head.
"I will see to Remus, shortly. Minerva, could you and Severus take him to a secure room in the dungeons whilst he sleeps off his transformation."
McGonagall nodded as her and Snape set to work moving the creature, the aurors also helping with levitating him inside.
"Perhaps you can explain to me what has happened this evening. Miss Granger has given her version of events and Mr Weasley will do the same once he has been checked over."
Harry nodded as he followed the man towards the castle.
"Professor? Do you think I will ever have a normal year here?" he huffed.
"I would like to hope so, Harry. Alas, next year will be far from it. I do not wish to ruin the surprise, but we are in for quite the treat."
Harry could only shake his head in response, not wanting to know just what was waiting for him upon his return to the castle. Before then, he had other things he needed to handle first. He had to ensure Sirius was declared a free man, he had his two rituals to complete and he had two months in which he could continue working on his magic and be left in peace, or so he could hope.
A/N
This is what I consider to be the end of the prologue, and now, we can move on to the meat of the story. I'm predicting this to reach around the 300 – 400K mark so could be my longest yet.
I'm managing two chapters of this a week along with two chapters of my original work. There are other things I am working on also that will be revealed in due course, all writing related of course.
I know I say it a lot but thank you all for the support. It truly is appreciated.
Love as always,
TBR