Another Prisoner, Another Professor

Stanton the Sanguine, 1672 - 1742, had studied blood magic and his enemies had died hours after Stanton received a shipment of puffskeins. Nelly Ab, 1798? - 1870, had gone down the streets of Oxford in an Invisibility Cloak, pricking strangers with a hatpin and later using their blood to nourish her begonias. "Look, here's Satyrdoro the Sensuous," Ron said, pointing to the middle of the page. "This is the weirdest stuff we've ever studied. It's more like scary stories than anything else." He waved his hands at Hermione. "Ooooh...Stanton the Sanguine and his murderous puffskeins are coming for you..."

"Oh, stop it," said Hermione, not looking up from her Herbology essay. "Everyone's been acting so silly since the Firebolts arrived."

The seven Firebolts had been delivered to the common room by enormous owls the night before, causing Katie Bell to shriek, Angelina Johnson to gasp, Alicia Spinnet to stare soundlessly, Fred and George to whoop and set off firecrackers, Colin Creevey to squeal, Seamus and Dean to grin nonstop for hours, Parvati and Lavender to look mildly interested, Percy to roll his eyes, and Oliver Wood to pass out cold on the floor. He still had a bump on his head, which at the moment he was nursing with ice on one of the couches.

"Well, if you don't like it you can go to the library," said Ron as Fred and George climbed in through the portrait hole, each carrying another six bottles of butterbeer. "Or you can go borrow some chain from Filch and use it to tie Crookshanks to the leg of your bed so he won't run around terrorizing poor Scabbers!"

Harry took a deep breath and looked resolutely down at his book.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Hermione.

"Look at him!" Ron took Scabbers from his pocket and shoved him at Hermione's face. "Look at his fur! He's going bald! He doesn't even want to drink his rat tonic anymore!"

"Maybe he has a skin disease," said Hermione.

"He does not have a skin disease, he's losing hair because he's scared to death of your bloody cat!"

"Hermione," said Harry, breaking his resolve, "you couldn't - it wouldn't hurt Crookshanks if he had to stay in your room while you were in classes, would it?"

"Yes it would," Hermione replied curtly. "He has to go outside to use the toilet."

Harry had a sudden image of a miniature porcelain toilet sitting at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and started to grin. "It's not funny!" Hermione snapped.

"Get a litterbox and put it in your room, then," said Ron.

"Yes, Ron, I'm going to put a litterbox in a room with Parvati and Lavender, what a wonderful idea."

"Well, do something so Scabbers can come out!"

"Why don't you put Scabbers in a cage?"

"He's an outside rat," said Ron. "Percy found him in our garden getting kicked by gnomes. Besides, he was here first, it's your cat that's the problem!"

"Crookshanks is not a problem!"

"Get a lead or something!"

"He's a cat, Ron, cats don't stay on leads!"

"Actually, I've got a neighbor back at the Dursleys with lots of cats," said Harry. "She puts them on leads and takes them for walks round the neighborhood."

"Well, then they must be very unusual cats."

Ron and Hermione were still arguing when Harry realized he had five minutes until his anti-dementor lesson. Glad to escape, he set down his blood magic book and headed for Black's office.

To his surprise, when he reached the office door he found it closed; he was about to knock when he heard voices inside.

" - said they tried you for being a Death Eater."

"Are you trying to ask me something?" said Black.

There was no response; Harry didn't want to stand right in front of the door in case it was suddenly opened, but he stood against the wall and put his ear as close to the sliver of space between the door and the frame as he could. Black had been -

"I was tried and acquitted," Black continued. "Whatever anyone in your family may or may not have told you, Draco, I have never been aligned with Lord Voldemort. That was Regulus's area."

"My mother said - she told me over Christmas - " Malfoy's voice was smaller than Harry had ever heard it before. "She said that since you two don't speak she never had the chance to ask - "

"And so she sent you as her messenger. Somehow that doesn't surprise - "

"She did not!" Malfoy was loud and angry now, but there was none of the usual contemptuous drawl. "I'm asking you on my own!"

"Never," said Black. "Not for one single moment of my life."

"My mother also said..."

"Yes?"

"Never mind," Malfoy muttered.

"Go ahead."

"She said that you and Remus Lupin were - were - "

There was a silence. "Your mother," said Black softly, "ought to learn to mind her own business and keep her mouth shut."

"Don't talk that way about my mother!"

"I've known your mother for far longer than you have and I'll talk about her any way I like."

"I could tell everyone, you know!" Malfoy's voice sounded closer to the door; Harry slid a few inches down the wall. "I could tell everyone about you and Lupin!"

"And then what would happen, Draco?" Harry had heard Black when he was angry, but never before had he heard him sound this menacing. "It would join all the other wild rumors about my life and be dismissed, especially if it came from you. Everyone in your year knows that you've been angry at me since September. Anything you tell them about me will sound like a lie you made up for revenge."

"You - you can't - "

"I'm only telling you the simple fact of the matter. It's eight o'clock, your detention is over. You're free to go."

"You're going to be sorry for this!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure I will be. Goodbye."

The door flew open and Harry just narrowly avoided being hit in the face as it nearly smacked against the wall. Malfoy stormed out and, to Harry's amazement, turned immediately to the right without seeing Harry at all. His footsteps echoed loudly down the corridor.

Harry was just about to slide a few more feet down the wall and then walk up to Black's office as though he had just arrived, when he heard Black say, "Harry, I know you're out there. Come in."

Swallowing heavily, Harry stepped into Black's office. Black was sitting in one of the red armchairs. "How did you know?" Harry asked, and wished his voice didn't sound so nervous.

"The light under the door had two dark spots and then they disappeared."

The expression on Black's face was unreadable. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Harry said at once, though in all honesty he had. "I just came for my lesson and - look, I won't tell anyone anything, I swear. I know about you and Lupin - I've known for weeks, and I could have told anyone but I didn't - "

Black leaned forward in his seat. "What exactly do you know about Lupin and me?"

Harry's racing mind told him that he should leave out anything about his father. "I know you were mates during school," he said, wiping one sweaty palm on his trouser leg. "Then afterwards you started a werewolf school in Berlin and asked him to teach there. You didn't know he was a Death Eater. I - I heard some of the teachers talking about it," he finished. The last thing he wanted Black to think was that Harry had been going out of his way to find out things about Black's past.

Black exhaled slowly. "Yes," he said. "And as you heard me tell Draco, I was tried for being a Death Eater. Seeing as Lupin and I were close, the Ministry suspected me of being a Death Eater as well."

"And you weren't," said Harry decisively.

"No." Black gave him a small, rather sad kind of smile. "Regulus was, though. Everything about our family that I rejected, he swallowed whole. He was never very brave, though; if someone did kill him, I think it was probably the Death Eaters themselves. He could get too emotional sometimes. They probably would have seen it as a sign of weakness."

"Sir - do you think maybe Lupin killed him?" Harry asked. If Lupin had betrayed his friend and killed thirteen people, it wouldn't have been difficult to kill another friend's brother.

"I doubt it. Close the door." Harry did. Black sat forward even more, so that he was on the very edge of his seat. "I'm not even sure Lupin was a Death Eater in the proper sense. Oh, I believe he's guilty - there's no other alternative given the facts. But I wonder about whether he joined Voldemort because he believed what Voldemort believed, or because he was afraid of him. The thing you've got to understand about Lupin - I'm sorry. I shouldn't be burdening you with all of this."

"No, it's all right," said Harry. "If Lupin's after me, it'll help me to know more about him, won't it?"

"I suppose," said Black, and finally sat back in his seat. "The thing you've got to understand about Lupin is that he never relished being a werewolf. He didn't see it as a power or a source of pride. We were friends for all seven years of Hogwarts and for all of those seven years, all he wanted was to be like the other boys. He didn't want to be more and he didn't want to be less. He was made a prefect in our fifth year and he just about died from embarrassment; he didn't like being singled out in any way. I had a hard time convincing him to teach at the school I opened. He wanted to blend in, but he wanted to teach, as well, and that was the only time I ever saw his ambition triumph over his desire to be just like everyone else. He wouldn't have dreamed of ruling over Muggles or sitting at Voldemort's right hand. He would have dreamed of a nice pot of hot tea and a peaceful life. But then sometimes I wonder how well I ever really knew him. He was secretive - he always was. Still, I thought that I knew him in a way that no one else did..."

A moment passed, and then Black cleared his throat and stood. "All right, we're already fifteen minutes late in starting. Where did I put that box?"