Magic At Its Deepest

News of Lily's return from the dead, and her testimony on Sirius' behalf, spread through the wizarding world like wildfire. In the days that followed, Dumbledore was pelted with a hailstorm of letters from people claiming to be old friends of hers, begging permission to see her. Some were quickly dismissed as fraudulent, but others were granted, and Harry learned more about his mother's childhood in the first two days than he had learned in the previous fifteen years. But it was not until the third day, when he walked into the Potions classroom, that he realized just how different things were going to be. By the time he, Ron and Hermione got to class, five full minutes before the bell rang, the room was already full, but Sirius wasn't there. Their classmates looked up when they walked in, their fellow Gryffindors waving as the Slytherins scowled and looked back down at their desks.

"No sign of him yet," Seamus reported as they sat down. "Reckon he's planning to make an entrance?"

"Wouldn't surprise me a bit," Harry replied, shrugging. "Sirius can be like that."

"Is he really your godfather?" said Lavender Brown, leaning across her desk.

"Yeah," said Harry, grinning at her. "He is."

"Wow," said Lavender. "He doesn't look old enough!"

"He's almost as cute as Lockhart," Parvati agreed, giggling.

"Thank you for that assessment, Miss Patil," said Sirius' voice from the doorway. "I'm sure Gilderoy would resent the comparison, though."

Parvati blushed scarlet, and Harry bit his lip to keep from snickering as Sirius walked into the room. His amusement faded quickly, however, when he saw his godfather's expression. Sirius wasn't exactly frowning, but he did look far more...well, serious...than usual.

The reason for this was quickly made clear. "It has been suggested," Sirius said, turning to face them, "that now that everyone knows who I am, I'll go soft, that I'll be biased toward certain students because of their relationships to me, and that this will make me poor teacher. People are afraid that I might be dangerous, even though I'm innocent of the charges that sent me to Azkaban for twelve years." He paused, looking around the room, and then smiled slightly. "They're right. I am."

The room went very still, and Harry, along with his classmates stared at his godfather in surprise. Whatever they'd been expecting, this wasn't it. Neville in particular looked as though he might dry up and blow away any moment.

"I am dangerous," Sirius continued, "because I was an Auror before I went to Azkaban, and we're trained to be dangerous. I'm very dangerous, and quite frankly, that's exactly what you need right now. A dangerous teacher who can teach all of you to be dangerous too."

Oh. Harry relaxed slightly and looked at his classmates from the corners of his eyes, trying to see what their reactions to this were. The Slytherins, all of them, looked completely unimpressed, but Parvati and Lavender were still staring at Sirius in obvious fear, Seamus and Dean with interest and what looked like growing respect, and Neville in obvious shock, as if the notion of being dangerous had never occurred to him - which, Harry thought, it most likely hadn't.

Ron and Hermione, he noted with pride, just looked determined. Of course, Hermione was already dangerous - and so was Ron, if you were playing chess with him.

"Don't misunderstand me," Sirius added, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. "Teaching you to be dangerous is not the same as teaching you to be stupid. I never want to hear of any of you thinking that you're invulnerable or unstoppable, or throwing your lives away." He turned and looked Harry dead in the eye, his expression dead serious. "There are no martyrs in this classroom." Harry stared back at him, surprised, but Sirius held his gaze for only a few seconds before looking around at the others. "I'm not going to coddle you. I'm not going to sit around and pat you on the hand if you mess up and say 'Oh, don't worry, dear, it'll be fine,'" he said, his expression intense. "This is important stuff you're learning, and if you goof up, I'm going to let you know. I won't be harsh or unfair about it, but I'm not going to let you slack off either. I expect nothing less than your absolute best work from each and every one of you, and I will get it." He leaned over his desk and planted his palms on top of it, and Harry felt a chill go through him at the look in his eyes. "I happen to be on very good personal terms with some of you," Sirius said, looking right at Harry again. "But the minute class starts, all my personal loyalties will go out the window. I will not allow any of you to leave this room until I know that you not only know what ingredients to put together to make this potion, but understand why the ingredients work together as they do. Anything less than that would be a disservice to you."

Harry, knowing his godfather was right, returned the level stare with only the slightest of nods. Hermione, he noticed, was staring at Sirius in a combination of amazement and visible delight, but she was the only one; most of the others in the room looked as if they very badly wanted Snape back, Gryffindors included. Of course, most of them had grown up thinking that Sirius murdered thirteen people. They're probably imagining all the places he could hide the bodies if they got him angry.

There was a long moment of silence, during which Sirius seemed to be making sure they were all taking him seriously. When he was certain of that, he straightened up and smiled at them. "Now that I've terrified you all into compliance," he said cheerfully, "let's get started."

Harry bit his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud at the expressions on his friends' faces as Sirius began to call roll. At Hermione's name, he stopped and looked up at her, smiling. "Hullo, Hermione. How are you?"

"Hello, Professor Black," said Hermione, smiling back at him. "I'm doing quite well, thank you."

"Good!" Sirius flashed a wide smile that made Lavender sigh and Parvati fan herself, and then he resumed taking roll, stopping again as he read Neville's name. He looked up at the boy with a faint smile, noting how terrified he seemed to be. "Do calm down, Neville," he said softly. "I assure you that you're in no danger from me."

Neville squeaked. "Y-yes, P-Professor," he stammered. "I'm s-s-s-sorry."

"It's all right, I understand." Sirius set the roll down and gave Neville a sympathetic look.

"The next time you write home, Neville, give your grandmother my regards...and ask her if she ever managed to get the stains out."

"Uh...yes, sir," said Neville, blinking and obviously wondering what exactly that meant. Harry wondered too, but judging by the wicked gleam in Sirius' eyes, he figured he was probably safer not asking.

Sirius flashed another grin, and then looked back down at the roll sheet. "Malfoy," he said, and when the Slytherin didn't answer, he looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Have you gone temporarily deaf, Malfoy?"

Draco wasn't even looking at Sirius; he was reclining in his desk, eyes closed. "Do me a favor, Pansy," he said loudly, "and wake me up when we have a real teacher again."

The Slytherins tittered appreciatively, and Draco smirked slightly. Harry and the other Gryffindors looked at Sirius to see how he was handling this show of disrespect; to their surprise, he was smiling faintly. In fact, it reminded Harry of the smile Remus had worn, seconds before he...bloody Hell.

Harry ducked below his desk, pulling Ron down with him, and Hermione did the same to Neville. The other Gryffindors, trusting Harry's instincts, were quick to follow, which left only Slytherins in the path when Sirius flicked his wand, transforming Malfoy's desk into a very large, very angry Hippogriff, which bore an uncanny resemblance to Buckbeak.

As Harry and his fellow Gryffindors watched in delight, Malfoy opened his eyes slightly to see what Sirius was doing, saw the Hippogriff, screeched in a very undignified manner and leapt out of his chair and into Crabbe's lap. Crabbe, whose loyalty to Malfoy obviously only went so far, shoved the other boy out of his way as he jumped out of his own chair, and Harry was hard-pressed not to laugh aloud as the pale-haired Slytherin landed on his arse, prone and helpless at the Hippogriff's feet. Malfoy whimpered and curled up into a ball, covering his face with his hands, as it looked down at him. It lunged, and he screamed again, but the second before its beak closed on his skin, Sirius waved his wand, and Malfoy's desk landed on the floor with a loud clatter.

For a moment, the classroom was silent. All eyes were on Malfoy, who continued to lay in the floor, whimpering and shaking, apparently unaware that he was in no danger of being eaten. After a couple of minutes passed, he realized he was still alive and raised his head, looking around cautiously. When he saw his desk, and realized he was being stared at, he flushed and scrambled to his feet, shooting Sirius a haughty glare as he tried and failed to recover some of his lost dignity.

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy," said Sirius mildly. "Tonight and every night, until you're ready to attend this class as a real student."

Malfoy drew himself up to his full height, giving Sirius a nasty look that had no effect whatsoever. "When my father hears about this..."

"Your father doesn't frighten me, Mr. Malfoy," said Sirius in the same even tones, "and you're just getting yourself in more trouble." He watched Malfoy for a moment, waiting for any more protest, and when none was forthcoming, returned to the role. "Parvati Patil...do sit down, Mr. Malfoy, I assure you the desk no longer has claws."

***

"It was brilliant," Ron gushed two hours later to the very receptive audience of Ginny and the twins. "It was even better than the bouncing ferret! I only wish there were pictures!"

"Ask Sirius nice enough, and he'll probably recreate it for you," said Harry, grinning. "And let you bring a camera."

"It was rather amusing," Hermione admitted, "but I don't think it was a good idea. Malfoy will really have it in for Sirius now."

"Malfoy would have had it in for Sirius anyway," said Harry. "You know how he is."

"Hm. I suppose you're right," Hermione said, pursing her lips. "Still...I think Sirius should show more caution...the last thing he needs is Lucius Malfoy gunning for him."

"Hermione, you're worrying too much," said Ron dismissively. "OK, Malfoy's a git, everybody knows that. But Sirius is an adult, and what's more, he's here! What could Malfoy possibly do to him at Hogwarts?"

***

Much, much later, Harry would remember those words and struggle to resist the urge to smack Ron upside the head. At the time, though, they made sense, and the rest of the week passed uneventfully.

Friday morning, Sirius accosted Harry outside the Gryffindor dormitories, grinning. "Oi, Harry! How'd you like to go into London with me tomorrow?"

"London?" said Harry, blinking. "What for?"

"Oh, I have to go in to the Ministry of Magic, to register as an Animagus," said Sirius. "I thought as long as I was going, you might want to come with me, make a day of it. It's been a long time since I had a day where I could just relax and not have to be worried about teaching or being arrested. So what d'you say?"

Harry's answer was a resounding yes, and the next morning, promptly after Lunch, he and Sirius Flooed into the Ministry of Magic. They were met, to Harry's surprise (and pleasure), by Arthur Weasley, who greeted them both with warm handshakes. "It's not my department, of course," he said as they set off together, "but somebody needed to meet you to show you where to go, and I volunteered. Sirius, it's good to see you again. I'm so glad your name's been cleared."

"Thank you, Arthur," said Sirius, smiling at him. "How are you and Molly?"

"We're quite well, thank you. And yourself? I hope the twins aren't giving you too much trouble."

"They've been on their best behaviour," said Sirius, grinning. "Something about being afraid that if they pull any pranks on me, my revenge will be...what was it they said, Harry?"

"Swift and merciless," Harry said, "and they're probably right."

Sirius snorted and ruffled his hair affectionately. "True. They probably are," he admitted. "Especially with Remus and your mother around to help me. Absolutely dangerous mind your mother has, Harry. It comes with being a woman. The female of the species and all that."

"Sirius...you've met Hermione...don't you think I know that?"

***

Getting Sirius registered proved to be a long and rather dull series of paperwork, tests, and fines - most of which were the result of his waiting this long to register. But they finally got it done, just in time for lunch, and when Sirius proposed venturing into Muggle London to eat, Harry heartily agreed.

They hadn't gotten but a half-dozen steps before the screaming began. It came from all around them, and as they stood in the hall, frozen in surprise, Harry could just barely make out the sounds of loud voices casting spells, some to stun, some to kill.

"Death Eaters," Sirius said grimly. "In the Ministry. Damn. Harry....run. This way." He pointed toward a staircase back the way they'd come from, and Harry followed him obediently, heart pounding. "I can't believe they're attacking the sodding Ministry," Sirius swore as they raced down the hall. "Voldemort's getting pretty ballsy...either that, or he's pissed off about Wormtail..."

"Actually, the Ministry is of little concern to my Master," said a smooth voice, and Harry froze in horror as Lucius Malfoy came around the corner, accompanied by a dozen Death Eaters. "You, Mister Black, are another story. And...oh my. Mister Potter as well." He smiled, and Harry's blood ran cold. "The Master will be pleased."

***

"Checkmate! Again!" Ron sat back in his chair in the Common Room, smirking at his girlfriend. "Nice try, Hermione."

Hermione scowled at him, then looked down at the board. "I'm going to beat you, Ron Weasley," she informed him crisply. "Just wait. One of these days, when you least expect it, you're going to think you're winning, and I'm going to beat you."

"Of course you are, Hermione," Ron agreed, nodding at her. "Er, were you planning on doing it anytime soon, then?"

Hermione scowled at him again, but before they could start fighting, the portrait swung open, and Minerva McGonagall stepped into the room, looking very grave indeed. "Ah...Mister Weasley. Miss Granger," she said quietly. "Please come with me."

Hermione stood immediately, her expression concerned, but Ron just sat there, staring at her. 'Please.' She'd said please. She was a teacher, teachers weren't supposed to ask, they were supposed to tell. For her to ask meant that... "Harry," he whispered, the blood draining slowly from his face. "What's happened to Harry?"

McGonagall flinched, which was all the proof Ron needed that something was very wrong. "Please, Mister Weasley. The Headmaster is waiting for you in his office," she said, and the blood ran cold in Ron's veins, because going to Dumbledore's office wasn't something you did unless somebody you loved was dead.

Hermione's hand shot out to clutch his, and he squeezed it gently, swallowing and standing up. "Yes, Professor," he said, and he and Hermione followed their Head of House down the halls of the school, a thousand terrible fears lying unspoken between them. He didn't even notice when they'd stopped, or hear the password when McGonagall spoke it. In fact, he wasn't really aware of anything, until he stepped into Dumbledore's office and found himself being embraced by his father. "Dad?" he said softly, startled. "Dad, what...what's going on?" His father released him, and he looked around, bewildered. Remus Lupin was sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk, holding Harry's mother in his lap, one arm around her to keep her from falling off, the other rubbing her back as she cried. The other chair was occupied by none other than a very white-faced Cornelius Fudge. "What happened?"

"Ron...son...there was an attack on the Ministry today," Arthur said quietly, his face wearing a very somber expression. "Lucius Malfoy and about thirty Death Eaters...somehow they found out that Sirius was going to register today, and they came for him." He put a hand on Ron's shoulder, clutching it convulsively. "They got him...and Harry as well."