When Patterns Are Broken

Harry was wide awake, staring at the ceiling of the Great Hall. He traced the constellations he recognized as they slowly spun above him, smiling at the jagged line of Cassiopeia.

There were too many people. It was too loud, stuffy with the breaths of hundreds of students. Ghosts phased in and out of the walls. Teachers and prefects walked between the sleeping students, having hushed and distracting conversations. Hermione and Ron had emotionally exhausted themselves and quickly fell asleep. They had worried he had been kidnapped, or killed. He felt bad for worrying them, but he hadn’t been doing anything. Was he supposed to keep everyone informed of his whereabouts at all times?

Everyone seemed to have their own unlikely theories about how Sirius Black had got in. Hours after Percy had called lights out, he’d heard Dumbledore admit that even he didn’t know. Snape was suspicious of Lupin—Harry could read between the lines—but he didn’t know why Snape was.

An hour before breakfast, they were finally allowed back in their dormitories. Harry found a pile of candy from his friends on his bed and he picked out a Pepper Imp, amused by the fire he breathed out while eating it. It helped him stay awake. 

At breakfast, the Great Hall returned to its normal state, Harry threw back cups of strong black tea while the hall’s chatter washed over him. He wasn’t surprised to see a school owl coming right for him, with an invitation to speak with the headmaster. He picked up his bag and made to leave.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked. 

“To meet with the headmaster. Could I copy your Arithmancy notes later?”

“What are you talking about? She’s in Divination with me this morning,” Ron said. 

Someone behind Harry cleared their throat. 

“As Head Boy,” Percy said, “I will escort you to the headmaster’s office.”

“Alright?” Harry said dubiously. “I know how to get there, you know.”

Percy was not to be dissuaded, marching at Harry’s side all the way to the gargoyle.

“Pepper Imps,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I think I can manage the rest of the way.”

“Very well,” Percy said, finally leaving. Harry shook his head and stepped onto the spiral staircase, growing queasy from the motion as it carried him up. The door to the office was already open, so he walked in. 

“Good morning, Harry,” Dumbledore said from behind his desk. “Did you sleep well?”

Harry took a seat across from him, choosing to focus on Fawkes, who was burning silently on his perch. The flames helped him calm down. 

“I didn’t sleep at all,” Harry said honestly, closing his eyes. 

“Concerned about Sirius Black?”

Harry shrugged. “Do you know how he got in yet?”

“We’re still investigating,” Dumbledore said. “Professor McGonagall and I have spoken, and we thought it would be wise if you stopped attending evening practices.”

Harry bit his lip, then said, “Oliver isn’t going to like that.”

“I would also suggest you avoid any night time wanderings,” Dumbledore said, looking over his glasses. “Your safety is important.”

“Is it?” Harry asked, looking back to Fawkes. “That’s good to know.”

“Harry?”

He looked at Dumbledore, flames still dancing before his eyes. It was distracting. “Yes, sir?”

“This is important.”

“I understand what you’re saying, professor. May I go to class now?”

Theories about Sirius Black took over the school. No one even considered that he wasn’t after Harry, though Harry caught Theo rolling his eyes in Arithmancy as their classmates argued over which onomantic method would be best in predicting what Black would do next. Harry didn’t think it had a chance of working without his full name. 

The Fat Lady refused to return to her post, even though her portrait wasn’t damaged at all. Black had apparently tried to pry her off the wall, chipping her frame and cracking the stone around her in the process. In her place, Sir Cadogan sat on his fat gray pony and spent half his time challenging people to duels when they just wanted to go to bed. 

Everyone was watching Harry. Percy trailed him from a distance, the ghosts and portraits stared, and Ron and Hermione stuck to him like limpets. Oliver talked incessantly about the upcoming match, following him into classrooms and being kicked out by the teachers. Harry was late to Defense trying to shake his captain off, and was surprised to see Snape at the front of the room. 

“Today we shall discuss…werewolves.”

Harry sighed and flipped to the end of the book.

“But, sir…”

Harry listened to his classmates argue with Snape, the detentions handed out like candy, too exhausted from the stress of being stalked by the entire school and Oliver’s suffocating anxiety about the upcoming match to contribute. Until the end of the lesson.

“...ways to recognize and kill a werewolf. I want two rolls of parchment—what is it, Potter?”

Harry put his hand down. “Werewolves are people, sir. Are you seriously expecting us to kill people who have lycanthropy?”

Snape sneered at him. “As I was saying, I expect two rolls of parchment by Monday morning. Weasley, stay behind—”

“That’s murder! If they’re transformed you could just restrain them until—”

“Continue speaking, Potter, and you will be joining Weasley in detention! Class dismissed.”

“I’m going to the library,” Harry said, shoving his book into his bag, seething. “This is unconscionable.”  

“Unconscionable?” he heard Ron say to Hermione

The quidditch pitch was flooded, which didn’t matter given the game was played hundreds of feet in the air on enchanted sticks. Harry had his goggles on, able to see clearly despite the storm raging around them. They were playing Hufflepuff, and the team was making disparaging comments about pretty boy Cedric Diggory. It didn’t matter. Harry just had to catch the tiny golden ball and he’d be able to go back to bed. 

The game started off wretchedly enough. His broom was battered around by the wind, no one could see where they were going, and the thunder was deafening. Oliver called a time out just as the lightning started. Harry wondered if the snitch would act like a lightning rod. If anyone was going to get struck by lightning, it would be him. 

Back in the air, a flash illuminated the stands, and Harry nearly fell off of his broom when he saw a dog he recognized sitting in the top row. How had the dog even known this was his first match of the season? Or traveled to Scotland? Or got onto the school grounds? Harry pushed aside his questions, newly dedicated to winning the match. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the dog.

He rose up, risking getting closer to the electrified clouds to get a better view, and he saw the snitch. Harry took off like a bullet, ducking under a bludger and leaning into the wind, urging more speed out of his broom. The snitch darted up and he followed, not paying attention to anything happening around him. He started feeling colder. Something was moving around below him, but he wrote it off as other players. He stretched forward and made a grab for the snitch, nearly losing his grip on the slippery metal. Relieved that the game was over, he looked down. 

A sea of black rose beneath him, dementors with their putrid arms outstretched, their hideous maws gaping open. He stared dully at the snitch in his hand, the cold like a vise around his chest. He had to do something, he couldn’t just sit there. 

He shoved the snitch into a pocket and pulled out his wand. He had just won a difficult game, it should be easy to be happy. 

“Expecto… ”

A scream cut through his thoughts. “ Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry! ”

“Expec… ”

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now.... "

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead— ”

Harry grabbed his head. It felt like he was breaking apart. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at the dementors.

“Expecto patronum! ”

A silver mist flew out of his wand, forming a faint shield that struggled to take shape. His arm shook with the effort. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. All he heard were the screams. His shield flickered out. 

“Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy… ”

He slid off his broom, no longer having the strength to hold on, horribly familiar laughter ringing in his ears as he fell into darkness. 

Harry heard his teammates talking around him and chose to keep his eyes closed until they left. It didn’t work. 

“We won! It was mad!”

“Katie saw your pocket moving.”

"Malfoy tried to raise a fuss, but Madam Hooch confirmed it. Good thing snitches have flesh memory."

“We thought you died.”

“It was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Dumbledore is furious.”

Harry sighed and sat up. He squinted, finally spotting his glasses and relieved to see his wand.

“Did anyone grab my broom?”

Harry wondered what to do with the shattered remains of his broom. There was little else for him to do during his stay in the hospital wing, other than entertain his endless stream of visitors. Theo came by after hours to confirm he was still alive, and once Harry thought he woke up in the middle of the night to a cold nose pressed against his hand, but in the morning he wasn’t sure if he’d dreamt it. 

Hermione went above and beyond acting as a research assistant for his werewolf essay, finding everything from spells far above their level of casting, to oppressive laws passed by the Wizengamot, to a dense technical treatise on the expensive and difficult to brew Wolfsbane potion. It was far more than two rolls of essay material, and together with Snape's unexplained antipathy towards Lupin, a picture began to form. 

Once he was released from the hospital, Harry checked his Astronomy notes for full moons, comparing them to when Lupin was absent or sick. It all fit, even back to when he'd first seen him on the Hogwarts Express. It wasn't incontrovertible proof, but Harry suspected Lupin was a werewolf. He made note of the next full moon. Maybe he could do some spying and see if Lupin was taking the full week of Wolfsbane.

He was chilled by the realization that Snape wanted them to look up ways to kill their own teacher.

He didn't think about the sound of his mother dying. 

Despite the lurid subject of the essay, Harry was slightly disappointed that Lupin canceled it, though maybe it was more for his own benefit; he did look run through the mill. 

Lupin had him stay after class to talk about the match. 

“Is there any chance of fixing your broomstick?” Lupin asked, packing his briefcase. 

“No. I think the tree knew it was mine.”

“They planted the Whomping Willow the year I started here. People used to—”

“Why did they?”

Lupin stopped packing and looked up. “Why did they do what?”

“Plant the Whomping Willow? I flew a car into it last year and nearly died.”

“I’m not sure,” Lupin said with a small smile. “It’s an interesting specimen, and endangered. Professor Sprout could tell you more.”

“I’ll ask her,” Harry said, watching the hinkypunk's lantern swing. Lupin covered it with a cloth, and it squelched indignantly. Harry looked up at him. “Did you hear about the dementors too?”

Lupin looked at him sharply. "I take it they're the reason you fell?"

"Yeah," Harry said, watching Lupin. "I heard my mum begging Voldemort to kill her instead."

Lupin went white as a sheet. He made an aborted gesture, as if to reach out to Harry. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I—" He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Are there any ways to deal with dementors, other than the Patronus Charm? I tried it, but there were about a hundred of them…"

Lupin's head snapped up. "You've been practicing that spell on your own? Harry, that's a highly advanced piece of magic. Even most adult wizards can't cast it. You shouldn't be doing something like that unsupervised."

"I did ask you if you could cast one," Harry said.

"You said you were just curious…" Lupin sighed. "Very well. If you'd like, I can give you lessons starting next term."

"I'd appreciate that, professor," Harry said. "What should I do if I run into them again before then?"

"You won't," Lupin insisted. "Professor Dumbledore has barred them from the grounds."

"That didn't stop them during the match," Harry pointed out. "How does the Ministry control them?"

Lupin looked at his desk, sighing again. "The Ministry provides the dementors victims."

"Azkaban."

"It's a small island, impossible to escape, particularly with the dementors on guard. The prisoners become trapped in their own minds, reliving their worst moments. Most go mad within weeks."

"That's torture," Harry said. "I can't imagine if one of my friends was there." 

"No," Lupin said faintly, "neither can I."

"I wonder how Sirius Black escaped? He must have found some other way to deal with them. They aren't allowed wands in Azkaban, are they?"

"He must have," Lupin muttered. He picked up his briefcase and cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I have rather a lot to do before the holiday. You should run along before you're late to your next class."

Harry watched Lupin leave the classroom in a hurry. He really didn’t understand the man. 

The last weekend before term ended happened to be a Hogsmeade weekend. Harry once again planned to kick around the empty castle. Maybe he and Theo would find another secret room. Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn’t realize he was in the third floor corridor until he was accosted by Fred and George.

“What are you two up to?” Harry asked warily. 

“We’ve got an early Christmas present for you,” George said.

“If you’ll just follow us into this empty classroom,” Fred said. 

“If you try anything,” Harry said, stepping into the room, “I’ll light you two up like a Catherine wheel.”

The twins grinned at each other. “We might take you up on that later,” George said, closing the door.

“We’ve been meaning to get into the fireworks business,” added Fred. He pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his cloak and set it on a desk. 

“The secret to our success,” George said, slapping the parchment. 

Seeing it was safe to touch, Harry picked it up, looking it over. It was blank. “Are you supposed to write on it?” Harry asked, taking out his wand and giving it an experimental poke. Nothing happened. 

Hoping the twins weren’t having him on, Harry said to the parchment, “I stabbed an enchanted diary with a basilisk fang last year. Do you want to find out what that’s like?”

Fred and George looked alarmed by this turn of events. 

Ink bloomed to life on the parchment.

“Mr. Moony strongly suggests Mr. Potter does not destroy the Marauder’s Map.”

“Marauder’s Map?” Harry said, glancing at the twins before looking at the next words.

“Mr. Prongs urges Mr. Potter to restrain his violent tendencies and ask his fellow mischief-makers for assistance.”

“Mr. Padfoot wonders where Mr. Potter gets it from.”

“Padfoot?”

“Mr. Prongs is sure he doesn’t know.”

“Mr. Wormtail remains skeptical.”

“Well, you got it talking faster than us, Harry,” Fred said faintly. 

“How do you work it?” 

George took out his wand, touched the parchment, dramatically cleared his throat, and said, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Harry snorted at the password, then watched in amazement as ink spread out, revealing a map of the castle and grounds. He stared at three dots clustered together with their names floating beside. The map showed all the ghosts in the castle, and Harry saw Mrs. Norris stalking around. Crookshanks was, to his surprise, exploring the castle grounds. He didn’t see any house-elves, and the owlery was less populated than he thought. Harry wondered what qualified an animal to be on the map. He didn’t see Lee Jordan’s tarantula, nor Scabbers. 

His eyes scanned the map, picking out far more secret passages than he had suspected. Just outside the room was one that led off the map. 

“This goes to Hogsmeade?” Harry asked, tracing it with a finger. “Where did you even get this from?”

“Filch’s office.” The twins said. 

“There are seven passages that lead to Hogsmeade,” Fred said. “Filch knows about four of them. The one on the fourth floor is caved in, and the Whomping Willow is planted on top of another.”

Harry went still at that. Why would someone put a Whomping Willow on top of a secret passage? It was too big a coincidence. Were they trying to keep something out, or keep something in? It occurred to Harry that the Marauders must have known about that passage if it was on the map. And if Sirius Black was one of them, it was no mystery how he was getting in the castle.

“The one outside the room leads right to the cellar of Honeydukes,” Fred was saying. “We’ve used it loads of times.”

“We owe the Marauders so much,” George said fondly. 

“When you’re finished, say mischief managed,” Fred said, tapping the map. The ink vanished. 

“See you in Hogsmeade,” George said with the wink. 

Harry picked up the map again. “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs…” His eyes widened, remembering the initials he had seen months ago, in Godric’s Hollow. “Moony must be Professor Lupin,” he said to the map. “But who are the rest of you?”

Harry left the room and stood before the statue of the one-eyed witch. “Another password?” he asked, looking down at the map. A tiny speech bubble appeared with the word. He didn’t see anyone nearby, except a ghost down the corridor sitting inside of a wall. 

“Dissendium.”

A part of the statue opened up, and he peeked in. “And how do I close it? Dissendium?” It slid shut.

Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower, trying to guess what the nicknames meant. “A fork has prongs,” he said, ignoring Sir Cadogan’s perfunctory challenge. He headed up to his room to collect his invisibility cloak and glamour glasses. After glancing out the window he got a winter cloak too. Stuffing it all into his bag along with a spare robe, Harry had another idea. He checked the map, then headed to the library. 

Harry slid into a chair next to Theo, who was nose deep in a book.

“Did you finish the essay on manticores?”

“I did,” Theo said, not looking up. “I’m still surprised Hagrid didn’t manage to get one for us to observe.”

“Not for lack of trying, I’m sure,” Harry said. “Are you staying for the holidays?”

“Father wants me at home. I take it you’re staying?”

Harry sighed. “It’s safer for me to.”

Theo gave him a strained look. “I understand.”

“Lupin said he’d teach me how to do a patronus next term,” Harry said. “Want me to ask him if you can join?”

Theo shook his head. “You can just show me after.”

Harry waited a moment, then said, “I found a secret passage to Hogsmeade. Want to go?”

Theo closed his book. "Please."

Harry led him to the witch statue, resisting the temptation to use the map. He checked down the corridor before he said the password. Harry climbed in first, bracing himself as he slid down. It was pitch black where he landed, and to his surprise his wand lit up almost before he thought about it.

"That's impressive," Theo said, landing behind him and lighting his own wand with a soft lumos. 

"I've been practicing since summer," Harry said, starting down the tunnel. It was damp and cold, and they stumbled along the uneven ground. It seemed like some giant mole had dug it out.

"This isn't as convenient as I thought it would be," Harry said, tripping again.

"How did you find it?"

"Fred and George told me," Harry admitted. "They didn't tell me it'd take hours to get there. They probably thought it would be funny."

"We could work on it, make it better," Theo said. "Where is it supposed to let out?"

"Honeydukes."

They reached a set of worn stone steps. Harry looked at them forlornly and started up.

"I'm not sure this is worth it," Theo said, panting. 

Harry started to agree, but hit his head against what turned out to be a trap door. He put his wand out, and waved for Theo to do the same, then climbed into a dusty, empty cellar.

Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, which Theo watched with luminous eyes. 

"It was my dad's," Harry explained. 

A door opened. Harry grabbed Theo and pulled him under the cloak. They watched an older man come down the stairs, sift through some boxes, and leave.

"We could just rob Honeydukes and go back," Theo said.

Harry pulled off the cloak and searched through his bag. "After walking all that way I'd like to actually see Hogsmeade." He switched out his glasses and put on a different robe.

"You're well prepared," Theo said, looking him over.

"Can't let the famous Harry Potter be seen, can I?" Harry said. "Let's try the door, I bet the shop is packed."

They went upstairs, slinking out from behind the counter and joining the milieu of students. He spotted Hermione and Ron looking at Cockroach Clusters of all things, and hoped they weren't buying any for him.

There was notice from the Ministry on the door that he and Theo paused to read. 

"Dementors sweeping the streets at night, lovely." Theo said. "What next?"

Once outside, Harry asked, "Where to first?"

"Three Broomsticks?" Theo suggested. "We missed lunch at the castle. I'm not exactly dressed for this weather."

Theo looked miserably cold, so Harry gave him his other robe. "You can give it back later. Let's hurry."

Hunching against the wind and snow, they quickly crossed the street. The Three Broomsticks was heaving, but they managed to get a small table near the fireplace, warming their hands on tankards of butterbeer.

Harry took a sip, surprised at the rush of heat that spread through him. "Does this have actual alcohol in it?"

Theo smirked at him. "A little. It can get house-elves drunk."

Harry wrinkled his nose and took another sip. He watched Hermione and Ron hurry in, finding a table not far from them. He and Theo were debating what food to get, when the door opened again. Harry choked on his butterbeer when he saw McGonagall and Flitwick, then Hagrid somehow getting through, followed by a comparatively diminutive Cornelius Fudge.

Theo started to turn to look, but Harry grabbed his wrist. "Just act natural," he whispered, letting go. 

Theo nodded. "I'll go order."

Harry watched the fire, studiously ignoring his teachers and the bloody Minister of Magic sitting at the table next to him. Theo came back with their food. Harry gave him a weak smile and speared a sausage, watching as the proprietress Madam Rosmerta joined his professors and Fudge for a drink.

He was shocked by the ensuing conversation

“I can’t believe they’re talking about this in public,” Theo murmured. “Half the school’s in here.”

Harry shushed him, but Theo’s staring grew more intense with each new revelation. Sirius Black’s friendship with Harry’s father, Sirius being the best man at his parents’ wedding—Harry had a photo of that he would have to check—Sirius being Harry’s godfather, being his family’s Secret-Keeper for the Fidelius Charm, Hagrid taking him away from Sirius on Dumbledore’s orders. Harry held the table in a white-knuckled grip, and didn’t notice the wood smoking until Theo kicked him. He shook ash off his fingers and kept listening. He got a new name: Peter Pettigrew, the mousy boy in the pictures. A posthumous Order of Merlin and a finger. 

Harry watched the party leave with narrowed eyes. 

“You don’t look very surprised,” Theo said, once the adults were gone.  

“I didn’t know about Peter Pettigrew,” Harry offered. He’d barely touched his food, and wasn’t hungry anymore. Harry wondered how Lupin factored into all of this, if he did at all. “I’m mostly upset that they went on about it in the middle of a pub. They know how rumors work around here. Look,” he added, nodding towards the door. “Hermione and Ron are already running back to the castle.”

“Should we go back too?” Theo asked.

Harry shook his head. “Let’s have a look around the village. Think we could break into the Shrieking Shack?”

"Where have you been?" Hermione all but shrieked when Harry made it back to the common room. "We've been back for hours! Ron and I heard something we need to tell you."

"In the library," Harry said, sitting down on a couch and resigning himself to an uncomfortable conversation.

When they were finished, Ron leaned forward anxiously. "You really don't look well."

"I'm just tired." And he was. Going back through the tunnel had taken ages.

"I know you must be upset," Hermione said, "but you mustn't do anything stupid."

Harry looked up at her. "Like what?"

"Like going after Black," Ron said.

"I'm not going to do that," Harry said. 

His friends looked at each other, surprised.

"You're not?" Hermione asked.

"You're not going to try to kill him or something?" Ron asked.

Harry gave him a dirty look. "Seriously? I think I'm done with this conversation. I'm going to bed."

Once upstairs, Harry found the photo album Hagrid had given him. He hadn't paid much attention in the past, being focused on his parents, but he immediately recognized Sirius as his father's best man. He also noticed the maid of honor, Dorcas. He lightly touched the picture, wondering if he could learn more about her from Lupin. Somehow he doubted the man would be forthcoming about Sirius.

The next morning Harry got up early. He checked the map and was pleased to see that Theo was already in the Great Hall. He found the present he'd wrapped in his trunk and hurried down, catching Theo on his way back to the Slytherin dormitory. Harry pulled him into an alcove.

"This is for you," he said, pressing the package into Theo's arms. "For Yule."

"You didn't have to," Theo started, looking down at it. He looked back up at Harry. "Thank you."

Harry smiled briefly. "Write to me? If you can, I mean."

"I'll try."

Harry wasn't sure what to do with their friendship. He knew Theo roomed with Malfoy and the others, which he imagined was a nightmare. He didn't know how worse it would be for someone friends with a Gryffindor, particularly one named Harry Potter. He didn't want his friend to be a target in his own dorm room.

Harry hoped his own housemates wouldn't mind. The whole Heir of Slytherin thing hadn't helped with the house rivalry, but he knew Hermione at least didn't care about things like that.

Sighing, Harry went back to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

By lunch, the castle had emptied out. Harry was reading in the common room, thinking about starting his homework like Hermione had done. Crookshanks was staring at Ron again, and Ron stared back with a hand protectively over his pocket.

"It's been a while since we visited Hagrid," Ron said.

"Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle," Hermione said.

Harry closed his book. He didn't want to visit Hagrid, not after what had happened last time, but it would be nice to get out of the castle without crawling through a tunnel. "Yeah, let's go."

Once outside, Harry regretted his decision. It was freezing. They forged on through the snow and reached Hagrid’s hut. Harry let Hermione and Ron ahead of him and hung back. After hearing Hagrid drunkenly bellow about Sirius Black the day before, he wouldn’t be surprised to find the man still sloshed. 

Harry stared across the snow as Hermione and Ron banged on the hut’s door. He wondered if the dog was still around, or if he’d gone back to London, or somewhere else entirely. He’d sent Hedwig off with a basket of food from the kitchen as a Yule gift, figuring hunting would be worse during the winter. And the snow was Hedwig’s element, she deserved some time to just be an owl. 

Hagrid finally emerged, crying and shouting and falling over Hermione and Ron. Harry followed them inside to learn about this new drama. There was a note about Buckbeak’s hearing on the table. Harry thought the matter had been settled, but wasn’t surprised that Lucius Malfoy had pushed for the hippogriff to be arraigned. 

Harry heard a crunching sound, and turned to see Buckbeak in the corner, gnawing on a ferret or something. Harry bowed, and went over to pet him, avoiding the blood on the floor. 

“I’m sure I’ve read a case about hippogriff-baiting where the hippogriff got off,” Hermione was saying. “I’ll look into it for you.”

“I think you should get a solicitor,” Harry said, scratching Buckbeak’s head. “We’ve got classes, and we don’t know a thing about how the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures works.”

“I can make time,” Hermione said firmly, giving Harry a significant look. 

“I think this is something the adults should handle.” He gave Buckbeak’s beak a pat. “I’d be happy to testify about what happened, though.”

“Ron and I will help you, Hagrid,” Hermione declared. “We’ll save Buckbeak, don’t you worry.”

The walk back to the castle was tense, but Harry thought one good thing came out of the visit. The flobberworms were finally dead. 

The next day Hermione took over the common room with centuries worth of cases, lassoing Ron into her research. Harry found an herbology book in the library on different types of trees and was reading through it. Hermione kept shooting him looks, which he ignored. He did send off an owl to his tax solicitor, Mr. Lappin, to see if he knew anyone who represented magical creatures. 

The next day was Yule, the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. Harry woke when it was still dark. He headed for the Forbidden Forest, hoping to find a fallen branch he could burn. He found some beech trees on the edge of the forest and gathered a few sticks. 

At breakfast he was surprised by three owls carrying packages. 

The first wasn’t an owl at all, but a fierce looking bird with a hooked beak and the same coloring as Hedwig. Harry thought it was some kind of falcon. It dropped a book-shaped package off and flew away again, not interested in sticking around with the lesser birds. 

“Who’s that from?” Ron asked. 

Harry turned it over and saw his name written in Theo’s handwriting. “A friend of mine,” he said. “I’ll tell you later.”

The next bird was an owl, a barn owl with a dark coloration he had never seen before, its face almost entirely black. It carried a small box with Kreacher’s scratchy letters on it. 

“What about that?” Hermione asked. “It’s a bit early for Christmas.”

“My relatives,” Harry said. 

Lastly, and most astonishingly, was Hedwig. Carrying what was obviously a broom.

“I thought you hadn’t decided on a model yet,” Ron said, watching Hedwig land. Harry fed her some bacon and she flew off. 

“It was a rush order,” Harry said quickly, flailing for an excuse. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he revealed he didn’t know where the broom came from, not with the castle up in arms over Sirius Black. He also didn’t want to unwrap it in the Great Hall, so he picked it up and hurried back to the common room with his friends.

“What’d you get?” Ron asked once they were settled. 

“You’ll see,” Harry said, dead curious himself. He unwrapped the handle first, and nearly covered it back up when he saw the name. 

“I don’t believe it!” Ron said. “You bought a Firebolt!”

“I did,” Harry said, staring in awe at the broom. He’d written Walburga and Kreacher about the match and the fate of his old Nimbus, of course. He didn't expect this. It was the best broom on the market, but the Black vaults could certainly afford it. 

“Do you mind if I give it a go?” Ron asked, eyes sparkling. 

“Sure,” Harry said. “Want to come with, Hermione?”

Later that night, after Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep, Harry crept down to the common room to add his piece of beech to the fire. He unwrapped his gift from Theo first. It was a heavy book which he suspected was written in Old Norse, given it was entirely in runes. It would take him ages to translate it since he didn’t know a word of the language, but he was sure Theo would help. There was a curious weight to it that had nothing to do with its physical size. 

He opened the gift from Kreacher. It was a watch, but none like he had ever seen before. The outer numbers were that of a regular clock, and he saw it was nearly midnight. There was a small silver disk floating in the center that showed the waxing moon. The backing was dark and twinkling with small lights, which Harry suspected reflected the sky above. There were probably more features, but he didn't recognize them. He turned it over in his hand, marveling at the craftsmanship. He saw RAB engraved on the back. Smiling sadly, he slipped the watch over his wrist.

Harry moved closer to the fire, and added another stick. 

Harry hadn’t seen Lupin during the break, so his plans to observe him the week leading up to the full moon were delayed by a month. When school started again, Harry waited to see if he would remember about the patronus lessons, but Lupin never approached him. So he started practicing with Theo again, in an abandoned classroom. 

“I think I saw a leg that time,” Theo said. 

Harry sat down, frustrated. “It doesn’t matter if I can’t do it in the presence of a dementor. They actively drain positive feelings, so you’re already at a disadvantage.”

“We should go back to focusing on intent,” Theo said. He stood up and held out his wand. “You said your nonverbal magic requires strength of will, right?”

“And loads of practice,” Harry said. “Which we’ve been doing.”

“You haven’t talked to Lupin about it?”

“No.”

Theo lowered his wand. “Why not?”

Harry’s expression hardened, but then he sighed. “He was friends with my parents. I recognized him from some pictures I have. I never met him before this year, and he’s never said anything about it to me.”

Theo thought it over. “You could still use him to learn things.”

“I know,” Harry said. “It’s just…it’s hard. I wish I didn’t care.”

Theo stared at him for a moment, then lifted his wand again. “We’ll just keep practicing on our own. Expecto patronum.”

“Is that a wing?”

Harry was doing his homework, minding his own business, when Ron started screaming bloody murder. He sprinted into the common room dragging a stained bedsheet, shouting about Scabbers. Harry hadn’t honestly thought about the old rat in weeks, though he vaguely knew issues with Crookshanks were ongoing. 

“Blood!” Ron yelled in Hermione’s face. Harry stood up to intervene. “Scabbers is gone! And do you know what I found on the floor?”

He flung a handful of orange fur over Hermione’s runes homework.

“Maybe he was injured and ran away?” Harry suggested. He thought about checking the map, but he knew Scabbers didn’t show up on it and so dismissed the idea. It was also ridiculously crowded with so many people and ghosts and pets in the castle that it was hard to find specific people on it. “We could borrow Fang from Hagrid, see if we can track him?”

Harry looked at the blood on the sheet, wondering if that could be used to track Scabbers. 

“Whose side are you on?” Ron shrieked. “Scabbers is dead!”

Hermione was near tears, staring at the cat fur scattered over her translation. Ron stormed off before Harry could think of a reply. 

Harry didn’t know what to do. The evidence was circumstantial, but Crookshanks had a history of attacking Scabbers. There was no body, and Crookshanks was unavailable for questioning.

Harry avoided the common room, where Ron was angry at him for not taking his side, and was busy mourning Scabbers. He also avoided the library, where Hermione was abusing her Time-Turner to disastrous effect. He tried talking to her about it, but she was upset at him too. Even after he showed her the letter he had received from Mr. Lappin. She took a moral issue with bribing the Committee.

His friends did rally for the match against Ravenclaw. His Firebolt had been a great source of inspiration for the team. It was almost a joke how superior it was to other brooms, especially for a school match. He'd sent a thank you note to Kreacher and Walburga, but never received a reply.

After shaking off Cho Chang for the umpteenth time, Harry had a straight shot at the snitch. He leaned in, the world blurring around him, focus unparalleled. Screams shook him out of his trance, and he looked down to see three dementors. 

He didn’t think about it. He didn’t have the time. He simply acted, flicking out his wand and shouting, “Expecto patronum!” A huge silver figure charged out and ran down the dementors. He didn’t dwell on it, pushing impossibly more speed out of the Firebolt and crushing the snitch in his hand. 

His teammates swarmed him. It was suffocating, but he bore it as well as he could. 

“That was quite some patronus.”

Harry looked up and saw Lupin looking abashed. 

“I’m sorry I forgot about our lessons, I…” Lupin shook his head. “I think you gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright.”

Harry followed Lupin out of the crowd, where he saw Malfoy and a few other Slytherins in an ungainly pile. McGonagall stormed over in a rage, and left her to it. 

The common room party ran late, and Harry went to sleep utterly spent. 

He woke up in the middle of the night to Ron screaming. Sirius Black had broken in. 

“He could have at least stopped to say hi,” Harry said to Theo. The break-in had taken the wind out of his sails with regards to his successful patronus, but Theo had taken to the spell with renewed vigor. He’d sworn up and down he didn’t know what Malfoy had been planning, and Harry believed him. Even if he had been involved, it would have been a clever and somewhat safe in-the-field exercise. 

Hilariously, Sir Cadogan was fired. Sirius Black had used the list of passwords Neville had lost at some point, and Sir Cadogan was naive enough to think having the password was the same as being allowed into the common room. The Fat Lady was reluctantly back in place, still claiming to be traumatized but willing to resume her role. 

Harry hadn’t told anyone about the one-eyed witch, but neither had Fred nor George. He hadn’t heard about any break-ins at Honeydukes. He did think about the passageway under the Whomping Willow but, well, it was the Whomping Willow. And he knew that Lupin knew about it, as he’d been one of the map-makers. Harry was reluctant to approach him since he didn’t want to give up the map, or get Fred and George in trouble. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do. 

“How do you think someone could get past a Whomping Willow?” he asked Theo. They had been studying in the library, Harry practicing a new silencing spell while he took a break from reading. 

“Go around,” Theo said, frowning over an arithmantic equation. 

“What if you had to go through it?”

“Get it to stop moving somehow,” Theo said, scribbling an answer. “During that match where you fell, Dumbledore used a spell to slow you down. Something like that might work.” He looked up at Harry. “Why are you asking?”

Harry debated with himself, but he’d already shown Theo the one-eyed witch and didn’t relish another trip through the tunnel. 

“The tree’s planted on top of another passage to Hogsmeade,” he finally said. “I wanted to see where it went.”

“If it’s under a tree, it’s probably another dirt tunnel,” Theo said.

“Yeah, but it might be shorter.”

Theo looked down at his work, finishing another equation, and said. “Alright.”

“Maybe a freezing charm?” Harry said, standing up. “Hermione used one on the Cornish pixies last year, but I don’t remember the incantation.”

That Saturday, after everyone had left for Hogsmeade, Harry made his way to the Whomping Willow and waited for Theo. He kept an eye on the map to make sure none of the teachers had seen him; they’d just order him to go back inside. He put it away when he saw Theo approaching. 

“No disguise today?” Theo asked, stopping to look at the violently flailing tree. 

“I’ve got the glasses in my pocket,” Harry said. He pulled them out to show Theo. 

“This is intricate work,” he said, looking them over. “Can I borrow them sometime?”

“For sure,” Harry said, taking the glasses back. “Ready?”

“You try first.”

Harry pointed his wand at the Whomping Willow and said, “Immobulus.” The spell hit a few branches, slowing them down, but after a moment they started swinging again. 

They took turns, and at one point Harry managed to freeze half the tree on his own. They then decided to try together, and the whole thing came to a temporary stop. 

Harry laid down on the grass, breathing heavily. 

“Do you even know where the entrance is?” Theo wheezed. “Maybe the roots cover the whole thing.”

Harry pushed himself up, looking at the base of the tree. “There’s a kind of shadowy spot there, next to that big root,” he said, pointing. “Let’s try freezing it again, and I’ll run over.”

Harry was relieved to see it was the entrance to a tunnel, and he hurriedly waved Theo over before climbing in. 

“There was something strange about that root,” Theo said, shuffling behind Harry. “And this is almost exactly like that other tunnel. When you told me what you and your friends got up to, I didn’t expect so much crawling around.”

After a while they were moving uphill. Harry could see a patch of light and quickened his pace. It turned out to be a hole, and Harry lifted himself through it before turning around to help Theo. 

“Where are we?” He asked, looking around. “This place looks worse than...”

“Than what?” Theo asked, holding his wand out to a shadowed hallway. 

“The place I stayed last summer. It took weeks to clean it up, but at least everything wasn’t broken.”

They explored, but there wasn’t much to see. Whatever furniture the place had was long destroyed. All the windows were boarded up. There were big gouges on the floor and walls which Theo examined with a frown. Harry suspected they were from a werewolf, and felt a pang of sympathy for Lupin being alone in here through his transformation. 

“I’m going to try to get a board off a window, maybe I can figure out where we are,” Harry said. He pointed his wand at a window and tried a silent diffindo. A tiny crack appeared. He looked up at the ceiling in annoyance, then tried again verbally. 

One of the boards split in half, the bottom half falling to the floor with a loud thump, startling Theo. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, then looked through the gap. He gasped and ducked down immediately.

“What do you see?” Theo asked, moving in to look. Harry grabbed him and pulled him down. 

“Malfoy. I think he saw me. Ron looked like he was about to jump him.”

Theo looked at the window, then back to Harry. “We should go.”

They got through the tunnel in record time. Theo discovered that pressing the strange tree root froze the entire tree, which was frustrating to find out after all their effort, but useful to know. 

“So that was the Shrieking Shack,” Harry said, trying to contain his nerves. 

“It didn’t seem very haunted,” Theo said. “We’re covered in dust, by the way.” He reached up and brushed a cobweb out of Harry’s hair. 

“I can do something about that,” Harry said. “Hold still.” He cast a light scourgify that left Theo’s clothes looking like new. 

“I don’t know that spell,” Theo said, straightening his robe.

“It’s alright, I know some shortcuts I can take back to the tower.”

They split up. Harry tried to shake out his clothes while he sped through the castle. He took a corner at a run and slammed into Snape. He fell backwards and scrambled away. 

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said, looking triumphantly down at him. “I was hoping to run into you. Come with me.”

As he followed Snape through the dungeons, he tried to beat the dust out of the rest of his clothes. It just made it worse. 

Once in his office, Snape pointed at a chair and Harry sat down. Snape stood over him. Harry looked at the fire in the hearth, trying to calm down. 

“Mr. Malfoy came to me with a strange story, Potter” Snape said. “He ran into Mr. Weasley at the Shrieking Shack. Weasley was apparently alone. Rather, Mr. Malfoy believed Weasley was alone, until he happened to glance at the Shrieking Shack. Can you guess what he saw?”

“I could speculate,” Harry said evasively.

“Look at me when you are speaking to me,” Snape snapped. Harry glanced up. 

“I don’t know what Malfoy saw, professor.”

Snape stared at him. Harry stared back, though everything in him screamed it was a terrible idea. He tried to focus his mind, but it was a struggle with Snape looming over him. 

“Your head, Potter. In the Shrieking Shack.”

“I didn’t know my head was in the Shrieking Shack,” Harry said. “That seems like the kind of thing I would notice.”

“Enough of your cheek, Potter! If your head was there, so was the rest of you. You have no business in Hogsmeade, and certainly not in a dangerous building!”

“I wasn’t—”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

Harry looked away, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this. He sat there while Snape ranted about him being famous, him being arrogant, something about Sirius Black, his dad strutting…

“Did my dad actually strut?” He asked, interrupting Snape, feeling hysterical. Snape looked furious. 

“Do you think this is funny, Potter?”

“I think it’s pathetic,” Harry shot back, instantly sobering. “I never knew my dad. He’s been dead for years.” He looked back at Snape. “Dumbledore told me he saved your life. Is that why you’re so obsessed with him?”

Snape’s expression could curdle milk. “Did the headmaster not tell you that your father and his friends had played a joke on me? A joke that would have led to my death? He was saving his skin as much as my own.”

“Well, my dad is actually dead. So is my mum, for that matter. Are you trying to get revenge on him through me or something? How old are you, anyway?”

Snape bared his teeth at him. “Turn out your pockets.”

“What? Why?”

“Do it, or I’ll take you straight to the headmaster!”

Heart pounding, Harry pulled out the map and his glasses. Snape picked up the glasses. 

“Could you please be careful? That’s my only other pair.” Snape glared at him, but set the glasses down, picking up the map instead.

“And what’s this?”

“A spare bit of parchment.”

“Is it? I suppose I could just…” Snape gestured to the fire. Harry flinched. 

“I see,” Snape said, taking out his wand. “Reveal your secrets!”

Harry watched stiffly as Snape tried to suss out the map. He nearly lost it when Snape called himself the master of this school, and when the map proceeded to insult him. 

“It was much nicer to me,” Harry said. Snape glowered at him, but didn’t respond, instead shouting for Lupin through the floo. He stepped through a moment later.

“Looks like a Zonko’s product to me,” Lupin said, looking over the map. “Nevertheless, if you believe it is ‘plainly full of dark magic,’ I shall have to examine it further.” Lupin tucked the map into his robes. “Harry, come along, I need to speak to you about your vampire essay.”

“I’m not getting that back, am I?” Harry asked once they reached the entrance hall.

Lupin looked around, then said, “I happen to know for a fact this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch years ago. I am astounded that you didn’t hand it in.”

“If you knew it was confiscated by Filch,” Harry said, “why haven’t you tried to get it back from him?”

Lupin hesitated. "I don't think that's relevant."

"I think it's very relevant, Mr. Moony."

Lupin gaped like a fish. "How do you know that?"

"Apparently it's not relevant," Harry spat out.

"Listen, Harry, I—"

"You know what?" Harry exclaimed, angry and overwhelmed. "I don't care! Keep the stupid map! But don't judge me for not turning it in when you've known about it this whole time. I'm thirteen. What's your excuse?"

Harry stormed away, headed for the common room. He ran into a breathless Ron, who had tried to warn him about Malfoy but couldn't find him. Before they got to the Fat Lady they came across Hermione, crying over a letter.

Buckbeak was going to be executed.