Chapter Text

The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework. Neville seemed close to a nervous collapse and he wasn’t the only one.

“Call this a holiday!” Seamus roared at the common room one afternoon. “The exams are ages away, what are they playing at?”

Hermione was so swamped between homework and detention, she was usually the last one to leave the common room at night. This left Ron, with the time he had, to try and sneak around the castle, keeping Crookshanks at hand in case of another Pettigrew attack; unfortunately, one of the Aurors, a younger one with hair that often changed color, was catching on to him, so he stopped before anyone else took notice.

Harry, meanwhile, had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Oliver. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Oliver constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

“So you must catch it only if we’re more than fifty points up,” Oliver told Harry every chance he got. “Only if we’re more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match, but lose the Cup. You’ve got that haven’t you? You must catch the Snitch only if we’re—”

“I KNOW, OLIVER!” Harry yelled.

All of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn’t won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley was Seeker. But Harry doubted whether any of them, even Oliver, wanted to win as much as he did. He couldn’t wait to see Malfoy’s face when Harry caught the Snitch. Ever since leaving Care of Magical Creatures, he’d taken to being more dramatic than ever, gaining the pity of most Slythrins, especially Pansy Parkinson, as he complained about how brutish Hermione was for hitting him. Though, fortunately, not all of them seem to sympathize with him, what with Crabbe and Goyle’s new allies, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabinni, laughing behind his back during Potions. Still, Harry was determined to beat Malfoy in front of the entire school.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at its breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the Hospital Wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

Harry was having a particularly bad time of it walking to classes, with some Slytherins sticking out their legs to try and trip him up. Oliver gave instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere, in case Slytherin tried to put him out of action. The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so it was impossible for Harry to get to class on time, because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. Harry was more concerned for the Firebolt’s safety than his own. When he wasn’t flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk, frequently checking that it was still there.

Harry slept badly. First he dreamed that he overslept, and that Oliver was yelling, “Where were you? We had to use Neville instead!” Then he dreamed that Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team arrived for the match riding dragons, he was flying at breakneck speed, avoiding spurts of flames, when Lily Potter appeared, taking the Firebolt back by pulling out from under him. He fell through the air and woke with a start. 

It was a few seconds before Harry remembered that the match hadn’t taken place yet, that he was safe in bed, and that the Slytherins definitely wouldn’t be allowed to play on dragons. Exhausted, he lay back down.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. Harry couldn’t help grinning broadly as he saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding them too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as they passed. Harry noticed that Malfoy looked paler than usual. 

Oliver spent the whole of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried them off to the field before anyone else finished, so they could get an idea of the conditions. 

“Okay — no wind to speak of — sun’s a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it — ground’s fairly hard, good, that’ll give a fast kickoff—”

Oliver paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling onto the lawn.

“Locker rooms,” said Oliver tersely.

None of them spoke as they changed into their scarlet robes. In what seemed like no time at all, Oliver was saying, “Okay, it’s time, let’s go—”

They walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd were wearing scarlet rosettes, waiving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners. Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Snape sat in the very front row, wearing a green and  very grim smile.

“And here are the Gryffindors!” Yelled Lee, acting as commentator as usual. “Dursley, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—”

Lee’s comments were drowned by a tide of “boos” from the Slytherins.

“And here comes the Slytherin team, led by captain Flint. He’s made some changes to the line up and it seems to be going for size rather than skill—”

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Harry, however, thought Lee had a point. Malfoy, who was already taller than Harry, was easily the smallest person on the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.

“Captains, shake hands!” Madam Hooch said.

Flint and Oliver approached each other and grasped each other’s hand very tightly, as though each was trying to break the other’s fingers.

“Mount your brooms!” Said Madam Hooch. “Three… two… one…”

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar of the crowd as fourteen brooms rose in the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his forehead, his nerves leaving him in the thrill of the flight. He glanced back, saw Malfoy on his tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch.

“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the SLytherin goal posts—”

Harry watched as Alicia was intercepted by Warrington, who started tearing through the field — until he was hit by a Bludger sent by George. Angelia picked up the Quaffle, who swerved around Montague and ducked a Bludger, scoring their first goal. Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; when she was nearly thrown off her broom as Flint went smashing into her. 

“Sorry!” Flint said as the crowd below booed. “Sorry, didn’t see her!”

A moment later, Fred chucked his Beater’s club at the back of Flint’s head. Flint’s nose smashed the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

“That will do!” Shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between them. “Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!”

“Come off it, miss!” Fred howled, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.

She scored and Lee and the crowd went wild. They were leading twenty-zero. Harry turned his broom sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding, fly forward for Slytherin’s penalty. Oliver was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goalposts, his jaw clenched.

“‘Course, Wood’s a superb Keeper!” Lee told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch’s whistle. “Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! HE SAVED IT!”

Relieved, Harry zoomed away, gazing around for the Snitch, but still listening for Lee’s commentary. It was essential that he hold Malfoy off the Snitch until Gryffindor was more than fifty points up—

Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out. Montague had served in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle, he grabbed her head. Katie cartwheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle. While Madam Hooch was shouting at Montague, Katie put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper.

“THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—”

“Jordan, if you can't communicate in an unbiased way—”

“I’m telling it like it is, Professor!”

The game continued, as Flint took the ball from Angelina, managing to score; there was an eruption of cheers from Slytherin, and Lee swore so badly, McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

They were now thirty to ten. It was the dirtiest game Harry had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor took an early lead, Slytherin was rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole, a Slytherin Beater, hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he thought she was a Bludger. George elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Oliver pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

Katie scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. But their Beaters, Bole and Derrick, took advantage of their absence to aim both Bludgers at Oliver; hitting him so hard in the stomach, he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

Madam Hooch was beside herself, and awarded Gryffindor another penalty. Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal — seventy-ten.

And then he saw it. The Snitch was sparkling twenty feet above him. 

Harry put on a huge burst of speed; the wind was roaring in his ears; he stretched out his hand, but suddenly his Firebolt was slowing down— Horrified, he looked around. Malfoy had grabbed hold of the Firebolt’s tail and was pulling it back.

“You—!”

Harry was angry enough to have blown him up — Malfoy was panting with effort, but his eyes were sparking maliciously. He’d achieved what he wanted — the Snitch was gone.

“Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I’ve never seen such tactics!” Madam Hooch screeched \, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back into his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

“YOU CHEATING SCUM!” Lee howled into the megaphone, dancing out of McGonagall’s reach. “YOU FILTHY CHEATING, B—”

McGonagall didn’t even bother telling him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy’s direction, her hat had fallen off, and she was shouting furiously.

Alicia took Gryffindor’s penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy’s foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

“Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores,” Lee groaned. “Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor…”

Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other. He wasn’t going to let him anywhere near the Snitch.

“Get out of it, Dursley!” Malfoy yelled in frustration as he tried to turn and found Harry blocking him.

“Angelina Johnson get’s the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!”

Harry looked around. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking the pitch toward Angelina — they were all going to block her — Harry wheeled his Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet he shot towards the Slytherins.

“AAARGH!”

They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed towards them; Angelina’s way was clear.

“SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eight points to twenty!”

Harry, who’d almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in midair, reversed and zoomed back into the middle of the field.

And then he saw something that made his heart stand still. Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph on his face — there, a few feet above the grass below, was a tiny gold glimmer.

Harry urged the Firebolt downward, but Malfoy was miles ahead—

“Go!” Harry urged his broom. He was gaining on Malfoy — Harry flattened himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him — he was at Malfoy’s ankles — he was level—

Harry threw himself forward, taking both hands off his broom. Malfoy's fingers were just touching the Snitch — he knocked Malfoy's hand out of the way and —

“YES!”

He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The tiny gold ball held tightly in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

Then Oliver was speeding towards him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Harry felt two large thumps as Fred and George hit them; then Angelina, Alicia and Katie’s voices, “ We’ve won the Cup! We’ve won the Cup!” Tangled together in a many armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands were raining down on their backs. Then he and the rest of the team were housed onto the shoulders of the crowd. Thrust into the light, he saw Hagrid, plastered with crimson rosettes — “Yeh beat ‘em, Harry, yeh beat ‘em!” There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. McGonagall was sobbing harder than even Oliver, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; and there, lighting his way towards Harry was Ron. Words failed him. He simply beamed up as Harry was borne towards the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with an enormous Quidditch Cup.

If only there had been a dementor around… As a sobbing Oliver passed Harry the Cup, as he lifted it into the air, Harry felt he could have produced the world’s best Patronus.

The party continued in Gryffindor Tower, and it was even better than when they beat Ravenclaw; the room was loud and dizzying as everyone cried, hugged and cheered together, filling their stomach’s with treats and butterbeer. 

Harry and Ron had just separated from the group to get more drinks, when Harry spotted Hermione standing at the portrait hole, waving them over. Pulling on Ron’s robes, Harry followed her outside. Hermione was out of breath but her eyes were sparking, and she gave Harry a big hug when he came out.

“Congratulations, Harry! I’m so glad we've won, I wish I could’ve been there,” said Hermione.

“You really missed big,” said Ron. “Malfoy almost had it, but Harry swooped in at the last moment and — WHAM! He got the Snitch!”

“Wish I could’ve seen Malfoy’s face,” Hermione sighed wistfully.

“What’s going on, Hermione?” Harry asked her.

“Oh, right,” she said, breaking into a grin. “Do you have the Sneakoscope?”

Harry reached for his pocket, only to remember he was still weathering his scarlet Quidditch robes.

“Never mind,” Hermione said hurriedly, “we’ll get it next time — you have to come with me, I think I’ve found where Hufflepuff’s cup could be hidden!”

“You could’ve led with that!” Ron exclaimed as they followed her down the hall to the marble staircase. “Where is it?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain, come on.”

When they reached the seventh floor, they were all rather winded; Hermione led them down to the left corridor and Ron and Harry looked around.

“Wait, I’ve been here before,” said Ron. “This was where Pettigrew was.”

“I passed by here too,” Harry said, thinking back to when he first received the Map. “I thought there was a room here, but I couldn’t find it.”

Hermione grinned. “That’s because you didn’t walk past it enough times… Watch this.”

Pacing three times in front of a spot in the middle of the corridor, Harry watched in awe as a door formed in the wall. Hermione pulled it open and they followed her in — and inside they found a large storage room, filled with piles, upon piles of junk. An old cabinet, thousands of discarded books, old brooms, and all other sorts of miscellaneous items.

Harry looked around, eyes wide. A strange little pinprick of pain crossed the scar on his forehead and he rubbed it.

“Well, what do you think?” Said Hermione. “If that cup is in this school, it just has to be here.”

Ron walked around, open mouthed, before stopping at the nearest pile, lifting up a picture frame with a ripped canvas.

“This is incredible, ‘Mione. How'd you find this?”

“Well, I was cleaning the trophy room,” she said. “And I got to thinking. I remembered what both of you said, about the seventh floor, the missing room, Pettigrew… And I thought, what if there really is something there? So I came up here and just started pacing — when, all of a sudden, here it was! This… this Come and Go Room.”

Ron put down the frame. “I’ll be you Pettigrew knows about it. If it appeared on the Map, the Marauders ought to know, right? D’you think…”

“Even if he knows, he couldn’t have found it yet through all this,” said Hermione, shaking her head.

“But what about a summoning charm?” Said Ron.

“I don’t think he has a wand,” Hermione said. “Think about it, if he did, why would he have attacked you with a knife? Why not fight his way through that crowd of Hufflepuffs? The only thing he’s got is his Animagus form — he’ll need his human one to get away with the cup.”

Harry rubbed his forehead, and looked around, a familiar sensation making his skin itch. 

“I think it’s really here,” he told them. “Remember that feeling I got from the diary last year, when I touched it? I think I’m getting the same feeling here…”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You’re magic must be sensing it! Incredible…”

“We’ll still need the Sneakoscope though,” said Ron.

“Yeah,” Harry said. He looked around the room, feeling hopeful. “And we’re finding that cup.”

—————

Harry’s euphoria from winning the Quidditch Cup and finding the Come and Go Room lasted at least a week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, all anyone felt like doing was strolling onto the ground and flopping on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of of Gobstone; or in Harry, Ron and Hemrione’s case, explore a hidden room full of junk holding a Sneakoscope up to different piles and waiting for a reaction.

But they couldn’t. Exams were nearly upon them, and students were forced to remain indoors, bullying their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George had been spotted working, preparing to take their O.W.L.s; while Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s, the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming incredibly edgy and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the common room in the evenings. 

To make matters worse, the Aurors tightened security even more than before, there weren’t many of them to begin with, and they were getting grumpier and grumpier by the day. Pettigrew had been at large for many months now, and from what Harry could gather, the Ministry truly didn’t seem all that convinced that he was after something in the school. During one of his lesson’s with Lupin, he’d walked in on him trying to talk Kingsley into calling Potter and Black to the school to help with the search. 

Though he could see everyone’s frustration at being so short staffed, Harry agreed with Kingsley. He thought of the Potters, how awful it must have been to lose their baby, and how desperate they must see the man who betrayed them back in Azkaban. But being so close, yet so far from capturing him, would be heartbreaking. 

As he practiced with the boggart dementor, listening to his mother’s screams, Harry wondered about his father. His father, who may have been a dark wizard that murdered his muggle wife. 

Not knowing what really happened to his parents was bad enough; but knowing exactly what happened to their son, and tirelessly searching for Pettigrew with no new leads, sounded downright awful.

Exam week began and an unnatural hush fell over the castle. The third years emerged from Transfiguration at lunchtime on Monday, limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they’d been set; which included turning a teapot into a tortoise. 

Then, after lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam, where they were tested on their Cheering Charms. Harry slightly over did his out of nerves and Ron, who was partnering with him, ended up in a fit of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quieter room for an hour before he was ready to perform the charm himself. After dinner, the students hurried back to their common rooms, not to relax but to study for Care of Magical Creatures, Potions and Astronomy. 

Hagrid presented them with a two-part exam the next morning; in the first, they had a written exam, where they identified the grooming, diet and physical aspects of all the creatures they’d cared for that year; and in the second, they were all challenged with riding a Hippogriff around the school and back.

They had Potions that afternoon, where they prepared Confusing Concoctions. Sitting behind Neville, Harry noticed he couldn’t get his potion to thicken, and was panicking the closer Snape got. Harry was about to whisper to him, when he caught Snape’s eye and froze. To his surprise and satisfaction, though he tried not to show it, Snape sighed, and said rather carelessly, “Perhaps with some more lovage…” before continuing down the line, taking notes.

Then came Astronomy at midnight, up in the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning; and Herbology in the afternoon. 

Their second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lupin compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken: a sort of obstacle course outside, where they needed to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a hinkypunk, then climb into and old trunk and battle with a boggart. 

“Excellent, Harry,” Lupin muttered as Harry climbed out of the trunk, grinning. “Full marks.”

Flushed with his success, Harry hung around to watch Ron and Hermione go through the course. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as they passed through even the boggart, though they both came out a bit shakily, and they too received full marks. All their work studying and training in the Chamber of Secrets, and tutoring from Harry, helped them pull through. Lupin was particularly impressed, and gave Ron and Hermione some extra points.

“The hinkypunk nearly got me,” Ron told them as they entered the Great Hall for lunch. 

“The boggart took me by surprise,” said Hermione, “I thought for sure it would have changed from Quirrell to McGonagall telling me I’ve failed at everything.”

All around them in the Great Hall people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of their exams that afternoon. Hermione’s final exam was Ancient Runes, Ron’s was Muggle Studies, and Harry’s was Divination; so, after lunch, they wished each other luck and parted ways.

Harry joined Neville, Parvati and Lavender as they climbed up to the seventh floor, where they found many of the class sitting on the spiral staircase to Trelawney’s classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying. Pansy saw them peering around.

“She’s seeing us separately,” she informed them importantly, before returning to looking at her copy of Unfogging the Future with her friend .

“Have you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?” Neville whispered worriedly to Harry as they sat down. 

“I don’t think so,” Harry muttered back. “But if you have to, you could always make something up, some tragic accident or something, you’ll be alright.”

The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, “What did she ask? Was it okay?”

But they all refused to say anything.

“She said if we tell, everyone we’ve told will suffer a horrible accident,” Lavender proclaimed as she came out, only causing Neville to worry more.

Parvati came down the ladder glowing with pride.

“She said I’ve got the makings of a true Seer,” she informed Harry and Neville. “I saw loads of stuff… Well, good luck!”

She hurried off down the spiral staircase to find Lavender.

“Neville Longbottom,” said a familiar, misty voice from over their heads. Harry gave Neville thumbs up as he shakily climbed up the silver ladder.

Harry was now the only person left to be tested. He waited rather impatiently, until finally, after about twenty minutes, Neville came back down.

“How’d it go?” Harry asked him, standing up.

Neville looked like he was going to be sick. “I think I passed,” he said faintly. “But I’ve predicted the death of right about everyone I could think of… See you back in the common room, Harry — she said you should go ahead.”

Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically, before climbing the ladder himself. The tower was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire alight, and usual sickly scent made Harry cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and tables to get to where Trelawney sat waiting for him before a large crystal ball.

“Good day, my dear,” she said softly. “If you would kindly gaze into the Orb… take your time now… then tell me what you see within it…”

Harry bent over the crystal and stared. His brow furrowed, because the more he concentrated, the more uncomfortably warm he became, and as his nostrils stung from the perfumed smoke, the more he was convinced he was seeing something within the swirling white mist.

“Well?” Trelawney prompted delicately. “What do you see?”

“There’s a shape… a dark shape,” Harry told her.

“What does it resemble?” Trelawney whispered. “Think, now…”

Harry squinted, leaning in closer. “An animal of sorts… something on four-legs, a bit hairy—”

“Ah,” Trelawney sighed sadly. “The Grim once more, I’m afraid. As it becomes clearer and clearer, I fear…” She turned away, dabbing at her eyes.

But Harry kept looking, tilting his head. “I’m not sure, Professor. It doesn't quite look like a dog to me. The snout is a different shape, perhaps a—”

Trelawney sighed once more, shaking her head.

“Well, dear, I think we’ll leave it there… I’m sure you did your best.”

With one last fleeting look, Harry got up. He picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him.

“IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.”

Harry wheeled around. Trelawney had gone ridged in her armchair; her eyes unfocused and her mouth sagging.

Something inside Harry hummed and he stayed completely still, unable to take his gaze off her. Her eyes started to roll. Her body shook. And Trelawney spoke again, in the same voice, so harsh and unlike her own.

“MASTER AND SERVANT WILL REUNITE. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANTS AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER BEFORE. TONIGHT… BEFORE MIDNIGHT…THE SERVANT…WILL SET OUT… TO REJOIN HIS MASTER…”

Trelawney’s head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped up again.

“I’m sorry, dear boy,” she said dreamily, “the heat of the day, you know… I drifted off for a moment…”

Harry stood there still staring.

“Is there anything wrong, my dear?”

“You— you just told me the that the— the Dark Lord’s going to rise again… that his servant—”

Trelawney looked thoroughly startled.

“The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? My boy, that’s hardly anything to joke about… Henry Potter gave his life to destroy that dreadful man. Rise again, indeed—”

“But— but you said—”

“I think you might’ve dozed off too, dear!” Said Trelawney. “I would certainly not presume to predict anything quite as far-fetched as that !”

Harry stared at her for a moment longer. “Professor?”

“Yes?” 

“Do you… do you use your wand very often?” Harry asked, his heart starting to beat a bit faster. 

“Hmm? What an odd thing to ask, my dear,” Trelawney said, sitting up. “Not very often I suppose, I find I don’t really need one. Funny, the last person who asked me was the Headmaster, such a charming man, that one…”

Excusing himself, Harry climbed down the ladder as fast as he could, dashing back to Gryffindor Tower. Trelawney’s word’s still echoing in his ear. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just witnessed, but he knew it was real. Dumbledore knew there was something special about Professor Sybil Trelawney, and now Harry was convinced too.

People strided past him, laughing and joking, heading for the grounds and a bit of long-awaited freedom; by the time he reached the portrait hole and entered the common room, it was almost deserted. Over in the corner, however, sat Ron and Hermione, playing with Crookshanks as they waited for him.

“There you are Harry, we were about to—”

“No time,” Harry panted. “We need to find Hufflepuff’s cup, now!”

“Calm down, Harry,” said Hermione. “What’s happened?”

“Trelawney, she’s had a prediction,” said Harry. “I mean a real prediction, not like the Grim or something, I saw her! It was as though she was having a seizure or something, her eyes rolled back, and her voice was different—”

“Is she all right?” Ron gasped. “D’you think we should call Madam Pomfrey?”

“No, she's fine, she doesn’t even remember it,” Harry said, shaking his head. “But she said the Dark Lord was rising again, and that his servant was coming for him tonight! We’ve been fools — Riddle, Tom Riddle — he’s You-Know-Who! He’s Vol—”

“Don’t say his name!” Ron yelped, going pale.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she began to pace. “Tom Riddle… Tom Riddle… Oh, what was his full name in the yearbook…”

She pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag and began to scribble. When she finally stopped Hermione showed it to them. Harry and Ron squinted to make out her tight handwriting.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

I am Lord Voldemort

“That confirms it,” said Harry in a low voice. “This is it — this is why everyone is so worried. Because they know You-Know-Who’s still around, they’re trying to stop him.”

“But that’s impossible,” said Ron. You-Know-Who’s been dead twelve years — Henry Potter killed him.”

“He must’ve killed part of him,” Hermione said, throwing the parchment into the fireplace. “Think about it, they’ve been chasing parts of him from the beginning. The Philosopher Stone and the diary, only a select few people knew…”

“You-Know-Who had followers,” said Harry. “But Dumbledore did too, didn’t he? It wasn’t just the Ministry who fought him, Dumbledor faced him before too.”

“The war might be over, but Dumbledore’s Army still stands, they’re still fighting,” Hermione breathed. “Only a few people, but they’re out there. The Ministry believes it’s over, they want us all to believe it, to keep the peace, but Dumbledore’s people have been working.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ron asked, still a bit doubtful. 

“Because we met them last year,” Hermione explained. “You parents, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, the Potters, Black, Lupin too, I’d bet… It’s possible Malfoy senior is involved somehow too…”

Ron sighed. “Alright, alright. So my parents and the others know about-about You-Know-Who. But, Harry, are you sure about Trelawney? Even McGonagall thinks her predictions aren’t real…”

“This was real!” Harry insisted. “More real than you can imagine. C’mon, we have to find the cup — she said Pettrigrew would be getting away with it tonight, before midnight!”

Hermione pulled on Ron’s arm. “Let’s go. We have to find it before he does!”

“Oh, alright,” said Ron. “But what do we do once we find it?”

“We hide it,” said Harry solemnly, as they made their way out the portrait hole. “Pettigrew expects to find it inside the school. So what if we take it somewhere outside of the castle?”

—————

They spent the next couple hours going desperately through what felt like the entire Come and Go Room, sifting through pile after pile, holding up the Sneakoscope to anything that slightly resembled a cup.

“This is hopeless!” Ron groaned, laying down on a beat up sofa, a bit of stuffing coming out of one of the arms. “We’re never going to find it at this— Ouch! There’s something in here…” He readjusted himself to get comfortable. 

“Maybe we should think of something else,” Hermione suggested, wiping sweat from her face. “We could lock the door so he can’t get in.”

“We have to find it,” Harry insisted. “Trelawney said tonight—”

“Oh, Trelawny said it was happening!” Ron mimicked with a sneer. “Since when do you listen to what comes out of her mouth? Everyone knows Divination is a load of hogwash — You know what? I think you’re stupid. She’s just faked the whole thing for attention.”

Harry heard a loud sort of whistling ringing in his ear, and he opened his mouth to argue back, when Hermione grabbed his arm.

“Ron,” she said slowly. “Stand up.”

“Why should I? I’m perfectly fine here!” He snapped.

“Stand up, Ron,” Hermione repeated.

“For what?” Ron shouted, jumping to his feet. “So we can keep— so we can keep…”

He blinked, looking around, dazed.

The whistling stopped. It was only then that Harry realized the whistling had come from the Sneakoscope. He looked back up at Ron, who was looking more horrified by the second.

“I’m so sorry, mate, I don’t know what just came over me, I—”

“Shh!”

Cautiously, Hermione approached the sofa where he’d been sitting. Carefully, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the cushion.

“ Wingardium Leviosa. ”

The cushion slowly raised up, revealing a small golden cup; it had two firefly wrought handles with a badger, Hufflepuff House’s symbol, engraved on the sides. 

“I think you’ve just found the cup,” said Hermione.

Ron shivered. “That was… that was awful. It’s like it was feeding off my frustration… Making me say things I’d never… It’s like what happened to Ginny last year. He’s strong,” he added in a whisper. “I— I suppose he really must be…”

The other two nodded. 

“We’ll have to transport it in something, hang on.”

Harry and Ron waited as she searched through a nearby pile, returning a second later with an old carpet handbag. 

“This ought to do,” Hermione said, pointing her wand at the cup. “ Wingardium Leviosa .”

Nothing happened. She tried again, with the same result.

“Maybe normal magic doesn’t work on it?” Ron suggested. 

“The diary didn’t like it when I touched it, maybe I should do it,” Harry suggested.

Hermione stepped back, holding the bag out. Harry gingery grabbed one handle of the cup, quickly depositing it into the bag, Hermione snapped it shut. Ron checked his watch.

“It’s dinner,” he said. “If we want to get this thing out of the castle, now’s our chance. Where do we take it?”

“The Shrieking Shack,” said Harry.

“But there’s no way in!” said Hermione shrilly, holding the bag at arms length, before frowning and passing it to Harry. “We can’t floo in, if that’s your idea.”

“No, but what if we fly in?” Harry said, breaking into a grin. “We drop in through the chimney.”

“Fly?” Hermione repeated. “On what?”

“I’ve got it!” Roon exclaimed, “C’mon, this way!”

They followed Ron to an old looking cabinet, where there was a pile of old brooms.

“Faster than going down to the Quidditch field to get some out of the shed,” he said. 

“Perfect,” Harry said, picking one out for himself. “Now all we need to do is go out the way Fred and George take to Hogsmeade. Do either of you remember the password?”

“I do,” sighed Hermione, picking up a broom. “Oh, I do hate flying…”

Sneaking through the school during dinner was easy when everyone else was busy celebrating exams being over. The only thing they needed to watch out for were Aurors. They hid in the classroom next to the statue of the one-eyed witch, holding their breath as the young Auror with the changing hair passed them. Once they could no longer hear her whistling, they breathed out.

As they approached the statue, Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped it, saying, “ Dissendium.”

The old crone’s hump opened, and one by one the three of them climbed up, and slid down a short, stone slide into a tunnel. It was pitch dark until Ron and Hermione took their wands out, casting a “ Lumous.” Ahead of them, they saw a very long, earthy passageway.

“Here we go,” Harry whispered. 

The passage twisted and turned, more like a burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else. They hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor. It took what felt like ages before the path began to rise, and ten minutes later, they came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above them.

“I’ll go first,” Hermione said, “Ron, you take up the back.”

With Harry between them holding the bag, they started to climb, trying to trip over the brooms they carried. A hundred steps, two hundred…

“How do Fred and George do this all the time?” Ron wondered aloud, panting.

“Ouch!” Gasped Hermione. “I’ve hit something — A trapdoor I think…”

Very slowly, she pushed on the trapdoor above her, signaling for them to wait as she peered over the edge. Opening the door all the way, she tossed her broom over and climbed up; Harry and Ron followed. They were in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Quietly, they crept towards the wooden staircase that led upstairs. 

Nodding in agreement they made their way up, and soon found themselves behind the counter at Honeydukes. Through the windows, they could see the sun had just set, though the sky was still light, and the shop was closed for the day.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. “Coast is clear, better hurry.”

They walked towards the door, but stopped when Harry suddenly felt something cold and pulled them down to the ground.

“What—”

Harry slapped a hand over Ron’s mouth and pointed. Quickly Ron and Hermione turned off the bright lights of their wands. Hermione rose up to peek through the window.

“Oh, no!” She groaned. “We forgot the dementors! The Ministry ordered them to patrol the streets after sunset after Christmas break.”

“Bastards,” Ron spat.

“Ron!” Hermione hissed.

“Just wait for it to pass,” whispered Harry.

They waited a minute, waiting for the cold, lifeless presence to dissipate.

“I think it’s gone,” said Harry. “Come on.”

Hermione pointed her wand at the door, uttering an, “ Alohomora.”

“Wait!” Ron suddenly said, grabbing the back of Harry’s robes, nearly making him stumble into Hermione. “ Lumos …” He aimed his light at the counter, then shook his head, lowering his wand. “Sorry, thought I heard something.”

“Maybe we should fly the rest of the way, it’ll be faster,” Harry suggested. 

“I’d rather not, yet,” said Hermione. “Let’s go already.”

Walking up the street, past The Three Broomsticks, they climbed up the slope leading to the Shrieking Shack. Harry and Ron easily mounted their brooms, while Hermione got onto hers more cautiously. They kicked up, flying over the overgrown garden, and up to the roof, circling carefully around the chimney.

“Just hold on to your broom, and descend tail first,” Ron instructed Hermione. “Harry, you better throw the cup down first.”

Harry held up the bag and tossed it through the opening, before flattening himself to his broom and jumping down himself. Closing his eyes, he shot downwards. He fell until the tail of his broom hit something solid, and he slid forwards, rolling out of the fireplace.

Wiping soot off his robes, Harry took a look around. He was in a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. And there was a strange, large hole in the floor in the far corner.

Ron and Hermione came down after him, moments later, one after the other. They too glanced around the room, faces smudged with soot.

“Much more terrifying inside,” said Ron, shivering.

“I think we're on the first floor,” said Hermione, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Let’s look for a spot upstairs, or maybe there’s a cellar—”

She was interrupted by a whistling sound, one that was getting increasingly louder. Surprised, Harry kicked the old carpet bag away from him, across the room. It landed near the large hole, disappearing into the shadows. But the Sneakoscope kept whistling in his pocket, even though none of them was touching the cup or the bag.

“Did you break it?” Ron asked, holding his hands over his ears.

“Something’s wrong,” said Hermione loudly.

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out the Sneakoscope. It spun and flashed incessantly in his palm. He was nearly convinced he had broken it somehow, when something fell through the fireplace, creating a cloud of soot as it landed.

The three of them froze for only a moment. A figure started rising, and untangling itself from within the fireplace, and Ron and Hermione raised their wands instinctively. Harry already had the feather in his mind, ready to set it aflame, when not one, but two people stumbled forward.

“Now, now, children, let’s not be so hasty.”

A short man, hardly taller than Harry or Hermione, and barely shorter than Ron stood before them; his hair was thin and unkempt, and the bald patch on top of his head shone with sweat. He had a shrunken appearance, his eyes gaunt, his bared teeth yellowing — and there was something rat-like about his twitching nose and watery eyes. Blue eyes that stared at them hungrily. 

A whimpering sound made Harry’s attention snap to the second person that fell through the fireplace. In his grasp, pointed face and white-blond hair coated in soot, was none other than Draco Malfoy. Peter Pettigrew was holding him close, Malfoy’s own wand pressing into his throat.

“Unbelievable,” Ron groaned.

“Hardly,” Pettigrew laughed, in a squeaky sort of way. “Typical Slytherin, if you ask me, always sneaking around, trying to see what naughty little Gryffindors are up to… hoping to get them expelled…” He paused wistfully, as though lost in a memory. “Now, put down your wands, and give me the cup.”

None of them moved. The only sound was the whistling Sneakoscope. Pettigrew shook Malfoy playfully. Sighing, Hermione lowered her wand to the ground, carefully placing it near her foot. She elbowed Ron and, disgruntled, he followed suit.

Pettigrew’s eyes fell on Harry. “Go on then.”

“I don’t need a wand to take care of you ,” said Harry evenly, narrowing his eyes.

Pettigrew laughed again, pulling Malfoy in front of him like a shield.

“Go on then, take your best shot.”

“ Dursley… ” Malfoy pleaded, his voice shaking, on the verge of tears.

Never being good with people crying, even if it was Malfoy, rolling his eyes, Harry slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He left it on the floor, careful to place it under the tip of his shoe.

“Smash that blasted Sneakoscope, while you're at it,” Pettigrew added. “Go on.”

Sharing a look with Ron and Hermione, who nodded, Harry threw the Sneakoscope against the wall half-heartedly. Unfortunately, it cracked on impact and the whistling became a dull humm. 

“Very clever, taking the cup outside the school,” said Pettigrew. “I didn’t want to risk going back inside after you nearly caught me with the Map, and I was thinking and thinking about how I’d get in, perhaps during the end of year feast — when I happened upon Draco here—” he tapped Malfoy’s throat with his wand “—and I was tempted to use him to get inside, until he was kind enough to tell me he’d been following you lot… So,” Pettigrew looked between them. “Hand over the cup, and you can run along back to Hogwarts to warn the others.” 

“Let him go, and we’ll give it to you,” said Hermione.

“Nice try,” said Pettigrew. “But how do I know you wouldn’t try and attack me once I do?”

“How do we know you won’t kill us once we hand it over?” Ron countered.

Pettigrew sneered at him. “I’ve always hated you Weasleys, too suspicious for your own good. Molly was never one to mind her own business,” he spat, changing the pitch of his voice mockingly, “‘ Where’ve you been, Peter? Have you gone out again, Peter? I didn’t see you last night, Peter, where did you go?’ Good thing James trusted me, poor fool, defended me until the end.”

Harry felt a hot anger brewing inside him. He clenched his fists. The boarded windows began to rattle; the ceiling shook, dust raining over them. Pettigrew’s eyes widened as he looked around wildly, clutching onto Malfoy — then his gaze settled on Harry and a strange look seemed to wash over him.

“You… you… but you’re… you couldn’t be…?”

In his confusion, Pettigrew had lowered the wand from Malfoy’s throat.

And in that small instant, a familiar voice cried out, “ Expelliarmus! ”

Harry stopped agitating the already crumbling Shrieking Shack. They all turned to see Snape and Lupin standing side by side, in front of the large hole in the floor. Both had their wands aimed at Pettigrew, with Lupin holding the Marauder’s Map in the other hand.

“R-Remus…” Pettigrew’s voice grew squeakier, his eyes darting from Lupin to Snape. “S-Severus… Severus, help me… help me won’t you? He’s here… he’s here I can feel him…”

Snape’s lip curled. “Don’t you dare , you rat… It seems no one told you down in Azkaban, but while you were selling out the Potters to the Dark Lord, I was reporting to Dumbledore… If only we’d arrived a minute sooner that night…”

“Traitor!” Pettigrew spat, making Malfoy flinch. “How dare you betray our master!”

“The only traitor I see is you,” Lupin whispered, his eyes narrowing. “How dare you betray our allies, your friends, our best friends .”

“Let the boy go,” said Snape, nodding to Malfoy as he took a step forward. 

Pettigrew looked between them once more, before saying, “Gladly.”

All of a sudden, he threw Malfoy at Snape; in an instant, his body morphed, shrinking down. A sickly looking rat made a mad dash across the floor, aiming for the space between Lupin’s legs, trying to escape the way the professors came in—

When a large, squash-faced, orange cat lept on top of him, pinning the rat to the ground.

“Crookshanks!” Harry, Ron and Hermione all exclaimed.

Lupin grinned, plucking the rat out of the cat’s grasp. Pettigrew struggled in his hand to no avail.

“A very clever cat you have, Hermione,” Lupin said. “He found us in my office and tried to take the Marauder’s Map, leading us all the way here.” 

He held his wand up to the rat, and a flash of blue-white light erupted from it; for a moment the rat was frozen midair, his small, grayish form twisting madly. There was another blinding flash of light. A head shot upwards, limps started sprouting; a moment later, Pettigrew was back in his previous form, cringing.

“ Petrificus Totalus,” Lupin cast on him, making Pettigrew fall back to the ground, stiff as a board. Then, he added, “ Mobilicorpus .”

As though invisible strings were tied to Pettigrew’s wrists, neck and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, hanging with his feet a few inches off the ground, not unlike a puppet.

“Enough of this nonsense, come a long,” said Snape to Harry, Ron and Hermione, giving them an all too familiar glare. 

“Hang on,” said Harry, as they all made their way towards the hole. He darted into the dark corner, retrieving the carpet bag. “Er, we were going to leave this here, but should we do with it?”

Lupin and Snape stared at him with equally puzzled looks, while Pettigrew’s eyes bulged. 

“It’s Hufflepuff’s cup,” Harry explained.

“You actually found it?” Said Lupin, surprised. 

Snape sighed, obviously not as impressed. “Leave it to Dursley, Weasley and Granger to find things they shouldn’t. Give it here, we’ll take it back to the Headmaster to properly dispose of it.”

“Better let Harry hold onto it,” Ron quickly advised. “It doesn’t seem to like him very much, it won’t affect him.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. But Lupin spoke before he could complain.

“You go first Severus, you need to press the knot on the Whomping Willow.”

“Right,” Snape muttered, stepping forward into the hole.

“Come along,” Lupin said to the rest of them, moving the floating Pettigrew in front of him as he followed. 

Crookshanks leapt forward next, his bottlebrush tail held jaunty high; Ron pulled Malfoy, who was still shaking, by his robes into the hole after him; Harry followed behind, and Hermione came after him. 

Their strange group traveled through a low tunnel, one that Harry soon remembered had to be the one Fred and George mentioned. They walk forward for some time, as the tunnel was probably just as long as the one to Honeydukes, nobody saying a word, until Hermione broke the silence.

“Here’s your wand, Malfoy,” she whispered, reaching past Harry to hand it to him. 

“Thanks,” Malfoy muttered back sulkily. 

“Bet you wish you hadn’t followed us, eh?” Said Ron, elbowing him. "Serves you right."

“Shove off, Weasel,” Malfoy hissed. “This is all your fault. I hope they expel you for this.”

“Hey, you left school grounds too,” Harry reminded him.

Malfoy glowered at him and turned away.

Hermione tapped Harry’s shoulder. He turned around and she pressed something into his hand. Harry recognized the Sneakoscope, and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he whispered. 

They didn’t speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Snape stepped out first, having done something to stop the deadly branches of Whomping Willow. Lupin and Pettigrew came after him, then Crookshanks, Ron, Malfoy, Harry, and Hermione.

They last four stopped a moment to stare in awe at Whomping Willow, standing as still as if it had been carved out of marble.

“Hurry up!” Snape called them.

The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows in the castle. They all walked on with tired feet, Harry had never felt so frustrated with how close, yet far they still were. Fortunately, the castle lights started slowly growing larger. Then a dark shadow moved ahead of them. 

“It’s a dementor,” said Hermione, pointing. “They’re not supposed to be inside the school, are they?”

Snape and Lupin stopped ahead of them, and Snape raised his wand.

“Not just a dementor — there’s a whole swarm of them coming straight for us!” Ron exclaimed.

“We’ll just hand Pettigrew over, they’re not a problem,” scoffed Malfoy, though he didn’t sound very sure of himself.

However, in that exact same moment, a cloud shifted. Their party was bathed in moonlight. 

A horrible thought crossed Harry’s mind. Everyone had been busy with finals the past few days, and Snape hadn’t called on him to deliver Lupin’s potion. But Lupin had said Crookshanks found both him and Snape in his office. It wasn’t possible. Still—

“Professor… Did you take your potion tonight?” Harry dared ask.

Harry could only make out Lupin’s silhouette. He’d gone ridged. Then his wand slipped out of his grasp, letting out a deafening bang.

Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion.

Pettigrew crumpled to the ground. Lupin’s limbs began to shake. The dementors were drifting closer, surrounding them from all sides. Snape stood so still, he could’ve almost been under a full-body bind. A red light hit Harry’s hand and he dropped the old carpet bag; it hit the ground, and snapped open.

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin’s head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshank’s fur was on end, he was backing away.

Hermione uttered a single word. “Werewolf.”

The werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, and all hell broke loose.

Pettigrew turned into a rat, Lupin’s discarded wand in his mouth, and started running. Just ahead, the werewolf was lunging forward. Harry’s legs moved before his mind could catch up.

“ Watch out! ”

Harry collided with Malfoy. Hot pain bloomed across his face. He felt horribly dizzy and unbalanced. The two stumbled to the ground, Harry falling on top of him. As he tried to push himself back up, he heard yelling and screaming. For a moment he felt the werewolf’s hot breath inches from his neck, before it was suddenly blown away from him.

“Lupin! Remus , get a hold of yourself!” Snape was bellowing.

“HE HAS THE CUP!” Ron shouted.

“Out of the way! ” Pettigrew cried.

“ Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!” Yelled Hermione. “ Expell… Expelli …”

Finally, Harry managed to struggle to his knees, then onto shaky feet. Through blurry eyes he could make out Malfoy’s terrified face, blood splattered across his left cheek. If Harry wasn’t feeling so cold, he would’ve realized the one who was bleeding was him.

The dementors  were closing in, barely ten feet away, they formed a solid wall around them. Looking around, Harry could see both Ron and Hermione had collapsed, Pettigrew was nowhere to be seen, and Snape was attempting to hold werewolf Lupin back; casting spell after spell, just barely managing to stand. 

Harry was freezing. In the distance, he could hear his mother starting to scream. He glanced at Snape and the werewolf again.

He let his eyelid fall closed. In his head he was picturing a single, pristine white feather. Every emotion he was feeling drained away, except for one, which he pulled to the foreground of his mind with all his might. Harry held on tight to the first happy memory that he could reach. 

He was safe inside Potter Manor, he didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys or see Aunt Marge again that summer. Mrs. Potter took him to Diagon Alley and let him spend as much time as he wanted in the apothecary — she’d bought him a new broom. Potter and Black kept playing exploding snap while he was trying to finish his homework — Potter convinced him to play one round, which turned into ten — by the time Mrs. Potter came back from work, he’d only written a foot, and she was so furious at her husband, she made him clean the dishes by hand after dinner.

The feather caught flame. Harry extended his arms out.

“Expecto Patronum! ”

What burst out of him was not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a dazzling, silver bird. It wasn’t small either, it was huge, with feathers that looked like they could’ve been made of fire. The beautiful, flaming bird rose, flapping its wings, and charged at the swarming dementors… It flew around and around, forcing the dementors to fall back, to retreat into the darkness… Until they were gone.

The Patronus turned. It was gliding back down to Harry. The moment his fingertips touched its beak — it vanished.

Something warm was dripping from his nose, down to his lips, his chin. His vision swam and Harry fell forward. The last thing he remembered before everything went dark was someone trying to shake him awake.

—————

“We let him get away, I’m so sorry — the dementors—”

“No, it wasn’t your fault at least you tried to do something…”

“They shouldn’t have been out there in the first place! You should’ve told someone, not gone off and done it on your own!”

“Now, now, Molly, the children are all fine—”

“ Fine? You call what happened to Harry fine ? He’s lucky not to have ended up in St. Mungo’s!”

“Shh. Lower your voice, dear, you’ll wake him…”

“Too late, I think he’s already…”

Harry blinked his eyes open, then squinted, when he realized he could only see out of one. Reaching up, he felt bandages covering the right side of his face.

“Be careful,” said a gentle voice beside him.

Turning his pounding head, Harry recognized Lily Potter’s gray and red hair. She smiled wearily, looking a bit older than he remembered. 

Slowly he sat up, taking in the room around him. He was in the Hospital Wing, again, surrounded by a very familiar crowd. The morning sun was peeking in through the windows, shining over them all. On his other side stood Ron and Hermione, gripping onto his cot; there was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, looking him over worriedly; Madam Pomfrey, who was glaring at everyone very disapprovingly; McGonagall, Hagrid, Flitwick, and Sprout; Kingsley, Potter and Black, but no Mad-Eye Moody; and Dumbledore, who observed him from over his half-moon glasses, and beamed.

“Hello, Harry,” said Dumbledore, rather pleasantly. “I am sorry to inform you, but Peter Pettigrew has escaped with Hufflepuff’s cup, I’m afraid.”

“So that’s it then?” Said Harry, his voice rough and croaky. “You-Know-Who’s coming back?”

Ron and Hermione both let out low groans, and Ron glanced over at Mrs. Weasley, who was starting to swell up, preparing to lecture them about their own safety. Dumbledore only smiled. 

“We can’t know for certain if Peter will succeed in raising his master back to what he once was. A few have tried and failed before him,” Dumbledore told him. “We can only assume he’s trying to organize Voldemort’s forces.”

Most people in the room flinched violently.

Harry frowned. “But Professor Trelawney, she said—”

“You needn’t worry so much about what Sybil Trewlawney says,” said McGonagall before he could finish. “It is, rather fortunate, that not many of her predictions ever come to pass.”

“This was real!” Harry insisted. “She was—”

Hermione tugged on his sleeve, shaking her head. Harry closed his mouth.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she said sternly. “If you are all finished with your business here, would you be so kind as to take your leave? I have patients who need their rest.”

“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore. “I suppose we have overstayed our welcome — I will be in my office, if anyone needs me.”

“Mus’ be gettin’ back to feed Fang,” Hagrid excused himself next. Adding for Harry, Ron and Hermione, “See yeh three later, then.”

McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout followed suit, then Kingsly. 

“I ought to return home, I suppose,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “There’s still much to do, what with everyone coming home soon… I will be seeing you all at the station again soon.” She hugged Ron and Hermione, and patted Harry’s knee like he was made of glass. “Goodbye, Ron, you too Hermione. You’ll be visiting us for the summer, won’t you Harry?”

Harry nodded. Mr. Weasley gave his goodbyes as well, saying, “Have to get to the office, someone’s been selling singing hats to Muggles, only they’ve malfunctioned and discovered a taste for hair. Are you coming as well, Lily?”

“In a moment,” she answered, glancing towards Potter and Black. “We better go check and see if Remus has come back from the forest.”

Black nodded standing up. “Right, of course, I can track him down, no problem.”

"Sorry," Harry whispered as they left.

Pulling Potter along, the three of them left too, leaving only Ron and Hermione. 

“Just five more minutes,” Hermione begged Madam Pomfrey.

“You might as well sleep here,” sighed Madam Promprey. "You've all ben through quite the ordeal."

“Absolutely not,” said a dry, slow voice that made Harry jump.

In the cot beside his, previously blocked from view by Mrs. Potter, was none other than Professor Snape. Snape looked rather worse for the wear, with one of his arms wrapped heavily in bandages. He narrowed his dark eyes at Ron and Hermione. 

“They’ll only stay up chatting and disturbing me,” Snape said. “Return to your dormitories.”

With one last fleeting look at Harry, Ron and Hermione let themselves be ushered out of the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey. With a hmph , Snape reached out to snap the curtains around his bed shut.

Harry stared at the white curtains for a while, listening for Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps retreating to her office.

“Professor?” He called out quietly. 

“What, Dursley?”

“What happened after — after I…”

Snape went silent, and Harry was convinced he wouldn’t answer, until he finally said, “You nearly killed yourself from magical exhaustion, too much magic too soon for your body to handle. It can be common for types like you…”

Magical Conduits, Harry realized he ment.

“...It’s not known to the public,” Snape whispered, “but that’s what happened to Henry Potter. That’s how he vanquished the Dark Lord.”

“Oh,” was all Harry could say to that.

Snape cleared his throat. “After you sent the dementors back, I instructed Draco Malfoy to return to the castle for assistance, as he was the only one of you still conscious.”

Harry heard him shift in his cot and assumed that was the end of that conversation. Laying back down in his own bed, he touched the bandages around his eye.

When Madam Pomfrey gently informed Harry that the scars left from a werewolf’s claws were permanent, the first thing he felt was glee. Aunt Petunia would never let him go outside again. She’d be far too horrified about what all the neighbors would think. 

Of course, Harry seemed to be the only one who didn’t mind the new scars on his face one bit. Both Ron and Hermione flinched at the sight of him, but Harry ignored it, all too glad to have been discharged from the Hospital Wing at noon the following day.

The castle was almost deserted. The sweltering heart and the end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. None of them felt like going, however, still talking about all the events that had transpired the other night. So they simply wandered around the grounds, sitting near the lake and watching the giant squid wave its tentacles lazily above water.

Harry stared at his reflection in the water. There were four gashes across the right side of his face. All began from the side of his head, through his hair; three reached his cheekbone, one so close to his eye he could no longer open it fully; and the fourth stopped at his eyebrow. 

“Are you sure it doesn’t still hurt?” Ron asked, catching him looking.

Harry shrugged. “Only a bit. It’s okay.”

A shadow fell over them and they looked up to see Hagrid towering over them. He beamed.

“Yeh three really are somethin’,” he said. “Findin’ the cup, fightin’ dementors an’ werewolves. Yer more trouble than Ron’s twin brothers — worse than James, Sirius and Remus ever were,” Hargid chuckled.

Ron snorted. “You never know with Fred and George, they still have two years to pull off something that’ll out do anything we're ever done.”

“And, technically, none of us fought Professor Lupin,” Harry added sheepishly.

“I still can’t believe you knew he was a werewolf and never told us,” said Hermione, rather disappointed, giving Harry a reproachful look he tried to avoid.

“Well, a few o’ us already knew, since we’ve known him so long,” said Hagrid, his smile fading. “Too bad everyone knows… He’s packing now, o’course.”

“He’s packing? ” Said Harry, alarmed. “Why?”

“Leavin’ isn’ he?” Hagrid looked surprised that Harry had to ask. “Resigned firs’ thing this mornin’.”

Harry scrambled to his feet.

“I’m going to see him,” he said to Ron and Hermione.

“But if he’s resigned—”

“—doesn’t sound like there’s anything we can do—”

“I don’t care. I still want to see him. I’ll meet you back here.”

Lupin’s office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The grindylow’s tank stood empty next to his battered suitcase, which was open and nearly full. He jumped when Harry knocked, and backed away behind his desk as he entered the room.

“I just saw Hagrid,” said Harry. “He said you resigned. It’s not true, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is,” said Lupin. He started opening the desk drawers and taking out the contents.

“ Why? ” Said Harry. “It can’t be because everyone knows you're a werewolf. How did they even find out?”

“Draco Malfoy told everyone when he came back to the castle for help,” Lupin explained. “This morning, owls started arriving from parents… They dont’ want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after the other night, I see their point.”

“You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’re ever had!” Harry exclaimed. “Don’t go!”

“Harry, I could’ve killed you,” whispered Lupin, his voice soft and broken. “Worse, I could’ve bitten you. I could’ve bitten any of you… If Severus hadn’t stepped in when he did…” 

“I didn’t think he would, not at first,” Harry admitted.

“He’s a better teacher than I could ever be,” said Lupin. “He’s terrified of me, to tell you the truth. That’s probably why he had you deliver my potions—” he managed a small laugh “—then again, it might have been so you'd uncovered what I was and had me sacked anyway.” Lupin shook his head. “I believe you know this already, but we were in the same year — Severus, James, Sirius, and I. Never like each other much. He was best friends with Lily, made James a bit jealous, and we pulled quite a few practical jokes on him… the worst was during our fifth year. Severus was very interested in where I went every month, he’d seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me to the Whomping Willow — the Shrieking Shack, it was created for me you see — and that’s where I would transform.

Sirius thought it would be, er, amusing to tell Severus all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course he tried it — he made it as far as the end of the tunnel and got a good glimpse of me. I smelled him and went to attack — but James, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Severus and pulled him back, at great risk to his own life. Dumbledore forbade him from telling anybody, which saved me at the time.”

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and dared look at Harry, offering a weary smile. 

“He’s terrified by my transformation, and yet, when he saw his students in danger, acted straight away.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Harry told him honestly, and Lupin’s shoulders relaxed. “Do you really have to go?”

“It’s for the best…” Lupin hesitated for a moment, before reaching into pocket and approaching Harry. He held out an old piece of parchment to him. “Here, I think you should have this.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he stared at the Marauder’s Map and backed up at Lupin’s face.

“But it’s yours—”

Lupin smiled, more honestly than before. “James and Sirius won’t mind. It was a lie that we forgot it at Hogwarts — we left it behind for the next generation of troublemakers. Go on, Harry, take it. I’m sure you and your friends still have some uses for it.”

“Thank you,” Harry breathed, taking it from him. 

“Try not to give your teachers too many gray hairs,” Lupin added with a wink.

Harry grinned up at him.

There were footsteps coming near the door, and Harry hastily stuffed the Map into his pocket. He turned around just as Dumbledore started to knock at the door. Dumbledore didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Harry there. 

“Your carriage is at the gates, Remus,” he said.

“Thank you, Headmaster.”

Lupin picked up his old suitcase and empty grindylow tank.

“Well — goodbye, Harry,” he said, smiling. “It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we may meet again soon. Headmaster, there’s no need to see me to the gates, I can manage…”

Harry had the impression Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

“Good-bye, then, Remus,” said Dumbledore somberly. Lupin shifted the grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbeldore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry, Lupin left the office.

Harry sat down in a vacant chair, staring glumly at the floor. He heard the door close and looked up. Dumbledore was still there.

“Why so miserable, Harry?” he asked quietly. “You should be very proud of yourself after last night. You achieved something most people your age could never accomplish. A corporeal Patronus that frightened off that many dementors… You certainly saved the others from suffering the fate of a dementor’s kiss.”

“It didn’t make a difference,” said Harry bitterly. “Pettigrew got away with part of Tom Riddle.”

“Didn’t make a difference?” Said Dumbledore. “On the contrary. It’s like I said. You saved the others from suffering a terrible fate — you saved Draco Malfoy’s life by taking that blow for him. When one wizard saves another wizard’s life, it creates a certain bond between them. Who knows what lies in the future, even if Peter Pettigrew manages to bring Voldemort back to life, it may just be destiny.”

The future . Something stirred in Harry’s memory. Greater and more terrible than ever before…  

“Professor Dumbledore… I don’t know if you’ll believe me— but when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very — very strange.”

“Indeed?” Said Dumbledore. 

“Ron and Hermione, they must have mentioned she made a prediction about Pettigrew getting the cup that night, that’s why we were trying to get it away to begin with.”

“Yes, they did say,” Dumbledore said, observing him carefully. “But they didn’t give much detail. What do you remember?”

“Her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said… she said The Dark Lord’s servant was going to help him rise to power… She said he’d be greater and more terrible than before.” Harry stared up at Dumbledore. “Then she became normal again, and she couldn’t remember anything she said. I— I asker, about her wand… Sir, is she…?”

Dumbledore looked mildly impressed.

“Yes, you are correct, Harry, she is in fact a Magical Conduit, though she has never truly realized her full power,” he said. “Who would have thought it, though? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise…”

“But—” Harry looked at him, aghast. How could Dumbledore take this so calmly? “But if her prediction is true—”

“Then so be it, Harry,” said Drembledore. “When the time comes, if he rises to power, then we must protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

And Dumbledore left the office, leaving Harry to mull over his parting words.

Very few at Hogwarts understood the truth of what happened when Peter Pettigrew got away, though versions of what happened that night spread around the school like wildfire. As the end of term approached, Harry had many people come up to him, curious as to what truly happened, asking for his side of the story. But he never had anything to tell. Malfoy was strangely quiet in the days that followed; he avoided Harry and his friends as much as possible, hiding behind his usual group of fawning Slytherins. 

Harry was glad to see he wouldn’t be the only one who was sorry to see Lupin go. Though several people gave him pitying looks when they saw the new scars on his face, many were rather miserable about Lupin’s resignation.

"Best Defense teacher we ever had," Parvati sighed.

"Only one who ever make lessons so exciting," Lavender lamented. 

“Wonder what they’ll give us next year?” Seamus said gloomily.

“Maybe a vampire,” suggested Dean hopefully.

The exam results came out on the last day of term. Harry, Ron and Hermione passed every subject. Neville was on top of the world, because he’d gotten a passing grade in Potions. He was showing everyone who would listen, which turned out to mostly just be Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as Ginny. 

“I’ve done it! I’ve really done it!” Neville cheered, practically in tears. “Wait till my Gran hears about this!”

Percy got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s, which undoubtedly meant he would be applying for a job at the Ministry; and Fred and George had scrapped a handful of O.W.L.s between the two of them. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had finally won the House Championship for the first time in several years. This meant the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everyone celebrated. 

Even Harry managed to forget about the journey back to the Dursleys the next day as he ate, drank, and laughed with the rest.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Harry watched Hogwarts disappear from view behind a mountain. It would be two whole months before he’d see it again.

“Oh, cheer up, Harry!” Said Hermione sadly. “I have a feeling everything will turn out alright… For all we know, they might catch Pettigrew soon.”

“Perhaps,” Harry sighed. “But I was just thinking about the holidays.”

Ron grinned. “Don’t worry about that, Harry! Mum and Dad already said we can pick you up from your family’s place. It’s the Quidditch World Cup this summer!”

“Dad can get tickets from work, and we can all go together,” said Ginny, who’d joined them for the ride back to King’s Cross. “You too, Hermione.”

“Well, that sounds fantastic, doesn’t it, Harry?” Hermione said.

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Harry, feeling a great deal more cheerful.

The four of them were just settling down to start a game of Exploding Snap, when someone knocked at their compartment door. The door slid open, and four unexpected people let themselves inside. 

“Oh, good,” said an arrogant voice, “they haven’t started yet. You don’t mind if we join you, right? Been looking for a compartment for ages.”

Without waiting for an answer, a rather good looking boy sat down next to Ginny, who stared at him incredulously.

“Deal us in, yeah?” Blaise Zabini said.

“Sorry about him,” said the tall, weedy boy that entered after him. Theodore Nott smiled sheepishly. “Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goygle stood awkwardly at the door. Harry glanced between the four Slytherins, baffled. Ron opened his mouth to complain, but Hermione shot him a pleading look, and he sighed.

“Oh, sit down already,” he grumbled. 

A few rounds of Exploding Snap later, the eight of them became well acquainted, and when the witch with the cart arrived, nobody complained when Blaise insisted on buying everyone lunch. By late afternoon, Crookshanks had settled down in Greg’s lap, while Hermione and Vince were discussing what they hoped Hagrid would cover next year; Ron, Ginny and Blaise were arguing about their favorite Quidditch teams, and who they favored to win the World Cup that year; leaving Harry and Theo to talk awkwardly about potions. However, it didn’t take very long before the two were bonding over not wanting to return home for the summer.

When they reached King’s Cross station, Harry felt more at ease than he had in a while. As he was waving goodbye to the Slytherins, parting ways on platform nine and three quarters, Harry spotted Mr. Malfoy. For a moment, the man held his gaze, before giving him a curt nod and turning away.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stepped through the barrier, and Harry spotted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at once. He handed Hedwig’s cage to Ron, and Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry tightly.

“There’s my uncle,” said Harry, though he almost didn’t want her to let go.

“Good luck, Harry, we’ll see you soon for the World Cup!” Ron yelled after him, as Harry started to wheel the trolley bearing his trunk away.

“Goodbye, Harry!” Hermione called out, holding Crookshanks basket in her arms.

Uncle Vernon was standing a ways away from the regular crowd, or probably, in his eyes, the extraordinary one. When he caught sight of Harry, he looked around, as though he had perhaps made a mistake, and the boy he was looking at wasn’t Harry at all.  When Harry finally wheeled up to him, Vernon grimaced.

“What's happened to you?” He said, eyes narrowing. “When Petunia sees this…”

“What? This?” Harry gestured to his scars on his face, acting like he’d forgotten they were even there. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It was only a werewolf, nothing serious. Although, I do think I’ve developed a craving for raw meat…”

And, grinning broadly at Vernon’s horrified face, Harry set off towards the station exit, looking forward to what had to be a much better summer than last year.