- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Schnoogle
- Characters:
- Harry Potter Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Remus Lupin Sirius Black
- Genres:
- Action Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
- Stats:
-
Published: 03/12/2003Updated: 06/18/2004Words: 105,717Chapters: 17Hits: 25,132
Harry Potter and the Dark Mark
venus
- Story Summary:
- The sequel to Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor. In Harry's 6th year, the Wizarding world is in bedlam: the dark movement is on the rise with a streak of senseless murders one after the other after the other. Harry's quest to stop the terror leads to the revelation of ancient secrets, re-visiting the past , and some old scores are *finally* settled!
Chapter 06
- Chapter Summary:
- The sequel to Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor. In Harry’s 6th year, the Wizarding world is in bedlam: the dark movement is on the rise with a streak of senseless murders one after the other after the other. Harry’s quest to stop the terror leads to the revelation of ancient secrets, re-visiting the past, and some old scores are *finally* settled!
- Posted:
- 05/24/2003
- Hits:
- 1,063
Chapter Six: The Beaten
It was probably the first time that students from all Hogwarts Houses were in agreement in their adulation for a teacher. Even Slytherin house couldn't relapse into shallow slamming of his robes as they had with Lupin-- Sirius was a sharp dresser! Professor Gray despised lecuturing and felt the students should have as much hands on experience as possible, so the classes consisted primarily of demonstrations and class discussions. He would sit on the edge of his desk, his left leg swinging casually over the side, talking to the students without the usual reserve or degree of a Professor-- and the students respected him immensely for it. He even started a classroom competition that became phenomenally successful: each student racked up points through the week (not for their houses, but for them) by answering questions and turning in homework, and the winner each week was awarded an automatic "A" on their weekly exam. You can bet the competition was fierce. Harry, of course, was thrilled at Sirius' second term success and was bursting with pride every time a student called Professor Gray their favorite. He even caught whispers here and there from the faculty about Gray's 'uncanny way with the students.' Dumbledore had never been more pleased. And Snape . . .well, let's just say that as the proverbial least favorite of the students, Snape had nothing to say on the matter save for a lot of scowls and frowns. The rest of the faculty, however, appeared to be just as enamored with Gray's winning formula as the students were. (Specifically Professor Sinistra, Harry's astronomy teacher, who just about swooned every evening at dinner since she was seated directly next to him.) Professor Flitwick, even, made attempts to copy the technique: his first lesson was teaching a charm called Abeos-- shrinking charms-- and had great success when he asked students up to the front of the class to be the receiving end of the charm! Of almost equal excitement was Harry and Hermione's fast approaching first Apparition class at the Ministry. Harry tried to remain subdued about the matter with Hermione, not wanting to admit that he was every bit as excited as she was about it, but it was no use. Especially when they awoke to a brilliant, bright Sunday morning. They met in the common room, satchels over their shoulders, and hurried to Professor McGonagall's office. Of course she'd been waiting for them and after a quick 'good morning' she reached for a pewter bowl (the color of which complimented her gray robes) and held it out to Harry and Hermione. Despite his excitement, Harry couldn't help but grimace as he reached into the bowl and took a handfull of the floo powder. Traveling via floo powder was right up there with Potions finals in his book, but he knew the destination would be worth it. McGonagall showed them to the large fireplace in her office, and Harry stepped inside, closing his eyes tightly, not wanting to see what the next few moments would bring. "Ministry of Magic," he enunciated loudly, threw down the powder, and was instantly engulfed in thick green smoke. ** Just behind the Tower of London, on a rather ugly industrial alley around the corner from the Tower bridge, lay the Ministry of Magic. To Muggle eyes it was just another nondescript warehouse on another dingy London alleyway. But to Harry and Hermione, it was absolutely beautiful. The Ministry was a large, fortress-like building, which is why it fit in so nicely being located next to the ancient Tower. It stretched for most of the block, rising tall and proud with enormous windows that looked out onto the Muggle-infested alley -- Muggles who hadn't a clue as to just what that strange, condemned warehouse really was. It wasn't as old as the Tower of London, so Hermione informed him, being built in the mid 1500s with the election of Wizardkind's first Minister, Altunas Mallory. Thus, Tudor furnishings greeted them when they walked inside-- the creaky, dark wood floors, high beamed ceiling and richly framed portraits of men in ruffs and ladies with farthingales. (Harry was immediately struck by a portrait of a man with a pointed beard and crisp starched ruff playing a lute to the portrait next to him who kept sighing and blushing). It was the most impressive place Harry had ever stepped into (aside from Hogwarts of course). "This way," said McGonagall. They walked down the main hallway-- the roof stretched high above them and great hanging tapestries lined the walls. This hallway smelled of time and Harry could feel it around him-- centuries of strength and fortitude. So many other footsteps had walked these halls before him-- such important men that he suddenly felt tiny and unimportant. In front of them was a high desk made of deep mahogany. A plump witch with a cherry red nose looked up from her spectacles and paperwork at the sound of the approaching visitors. "Minerva!' In an instant she was out from behind her desk and at their side. "Velma!" Professor McGonagall's general reserve was forgotten upon sight of this contagiously cheerful woman. Minerva's normally skeptical eyes were bright-- her smile magnetic and she suddenly looked several years younger (if not decades)! They were embracing. "What a wonderful surprise! Oh Minerva, it's been entirely too long! My goodness, it's been--" "-- at least six years! Last time I saw you was at the Witches Riding League Christmas Party!" Velma put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my, you're right! And I seem to remember trying to convince someone not to have that fourth bottle of ale--" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "It was butterbeer. . ." "--oh, but weren't you a riot! Remember? You led us all in a chorus of Auld Lang Syne so raucous that the Ministry appeared to break up all the commotion!" "Velma," said McGonagall sternly. "Allow me to introduce you to my students . . ." Velma coughed and subdued her smiles. "Oh! Oh, I see! Er . . ." she held out her hand. "I'm Velma Sverlow, how do you do?" Hermione shook hands firmly, "I'm Hermione." Harry did the same. "And I'm Harry." Velma's mouth fell. "Oh! But. . . but you're Harry Potter!" She grabbed his hand and shook it forcefully. "Delighted, my dear fellow, positively delighted." "Miss Granger and Mr. Potter are here to attend the Ministry's Apparition classes." "Indeed? Splendid! This way, then. Follow me! My, how he looks like his father, doesn't he Minerva? Not tall like James was, but then again Lily was rather small. My, the resemblance is uncanny. . ." Velma led them up a narrow, winding staircase of bathstone steps, lit only by smoldering candles. After at least three flights, they entered out into a simply regal hall-- spacious with a high dome, frescoed ceiling of bright renaissance blues and greens. Their heels clicked loudly on the wood floor, every sound they made bouncing off the walls. In the center of the room were long tables, much like the ones in Hogwarts classrooms, and a large blackboard at the far end of the hall. "You're a bit early," Velma was saying. "Either that or everyone else is running late." "Never running late, just . . . arriving in fashion!" Harry turned to see a woman with long, platinum hair stride into the room. "Professor Warwick," Harry and Hermione cried. "Well, well!" She was beaming. "And look who's here!" She walked over to them and greeted them both with a quick hug. "Hermione, you're looking lovely. And Harry! My, what a handsome devil you're turning out to be! Oh, indeed it is wonderful to see you both again." Harry was blushing. "And you'll be taking this course, will you? Fantastic! My two favorite Hogwarts students here to support my new foray in the teaching profession." "If it comforts you any," said Hermione, "I think that all of the kids back at school would rather have had you stay on as Potions master than having Snape come back." Professor Warwick smiled softly. "Oh how you do run on, Miss Granger! Severus is probably the best potions master Hogwarts has ever had. I only hope that I'll be half the teacher he is." "You already are," said Hemione seriously. "Ah, never too early to start buttering up the Professor, that's for sure. But enough of that talk, here, let me give you your textbooks. And you've brought your supplies? Good . . ." "Professor Warwick," said McGonagall, "if everything is ready, then I'll be leaving." "You're going back to Hogwarts?" asked Hermione. "Great Merlin, child, nonsense. I adore London -- always have-- and am quite content doing my paper work from here. There is a delightful library in the courtyard-- I'll be there if you have any need of me. Good day, Ariah." "Good Day, Minerva." Professor McGonagall left the room, just as the rest of the Apparition students began walking in. Harry and Hermione took their seats next to each other at the front of the class (this at Hermione's insistance) and their table was soon joined by three older, wiry haired wizards. To call the makeup of the classroom eclectic would be a vast understatement: wizards and witches of every shape, size and color had assembled in the room. Plump, gaunt, ivory skinned, ebony skinned, blue eyed, green eyed, black-eyed (literally) and just about everything in between. Their Apparition Texbook was the thickest they had ever seen. Harry's heart sunk somewhat to find it written in near microscopic print and filled with charts and diagrams-- not exactly riveting entertainment, to be sure. Hermione Granger was in her element. By the end of the day, Harry was mentally drained. He'd always loved Professor Warwick's teaching, but it took a lot of effort for him to interest himself in her words. Hermione seemed to have had no difficulty and spouted off to Professor McGonagall all the "fascinating" things they'd learned as they approached a Ministry fireplace to return home. Interesting how a day of non-physical activity can really work up an appetite. Harry was positively ravenous when they reached Hogwarts again-- thankfully just within moments of Supper time. Ron was eager to hear all about their day, and Hermione narrated the days events to him as they walked down to the Great Hall. "Hey-- where's Seamus?" Harry stared at the Gryffindor table and there was an empty space where Seamus usually sat. Dean looked angry. "Madame Pomfreys." "What? Why?" "Malfoy," Ron hissed. "Today after breakfast, we were all out at the Pitch, having a quick game of Quidditch. Minding our own business. Then Malfoy shows up with Scab and Boil and has the gaul to ask to join in--" "They did that on purpose," said Dean bitterly. "They knew we'd say no so they'd have a reason to start a fight." "Which is exactly what happened," said Ron. "And when Malfoy called Seamus a mudblood, well, you know Seamus' temper. He threw a punch right at Malfoy's face--" "Really?" cried Harry, delighted at the very idea. "-- and missed." "Oh." "Yeah. So Malfoy, that stupid, lanky git, pulls out his wand--" "--and so did Seamus, but Malfoy was quicker--" "--and Malfoy tries to put that Abeos charm on him--" "--but of course he's such a twat that he messes it up and instead of just shrinking Seamus--" "--suddenly there's Seamus on the grass in a nappy--" "-- a bleedin' one year old!" Hermione gasped and Harry's mouth fell. "You're joking!" "Certainly not," said Ron. "I had to carry him up to Madame Pomfreys-- she about had a heart attack when she saw it." "He'll-- he'll be okay, right?" "Madame Pomfrey says that it'll take a couple days to reverse the aging process, but he'll be back to his normal self by midweek." Harry shook his head. "Can't believe it. What a complete tosser that Malfoy is. . ." Neville looked hurt. "I know. And he's been prancing about campus all day, just as proud as he can be." "Don't worry," said Ron, "we're gonna get Malfoy back." "Good," said Hermione instensely, "And Dean and I will pretend that we never heard you say that." Seamus was an incredibly good sport about everything. He walked into the great hall for breakfast on Wednesday morning with a smile on his face-- helped by the fact that the Gryffindors broke out into applause upon his arrival. "Just bloody lucky we have Madame Pomfrey around," he said, as he ate a hearty helping of porridge, "don't reckon it would have been much fun learning to walk all over again." They walked to potions together, keenly aware of the Slyhterins sniggers and laughter as Seamus walked past them, but choosing to ignore it. Besides, there was something in the calmness of both Seamus and Ron that told Harry they had something up their sleeves. And sure enough, they did! Potions was half over and Snape had left the students alone to perfect a new dreaming draft. It was an error on Snape's behalf: he should have known better than to leave the students to themselves when a Gryffindor retaliation was almost expected. Nothing happened until class was over. The Gryffindors had cleaned up their cauldrons and were on their way out of the dungeon, making their way to the starcase to go up for class with Professor Gray. "Finnegan! You bastard!" Harry spun around to see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle running out of the potions dungeon, bearing down the corridor towards them: completely green. Their skin was green, their fingernails were green, their eyebrows, eyelashes, robes, shoes-- everything had turned a bright lime green! The Gryffindors burst into laughter. "Hello, Malfoy," said Seamus cordially, grinning at them. "Not feeling well? You don't quite look yourself today. . ." Malfoy was fuming, his green mouth was thin and cross, and his green fists were clenched. "You are gonna pay for this! You and Weasley both!" "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," said Ron. "But if I were you I'd pay more attention to your formulas! Look what you did to yourselves!" "You did this! You know you did this!" By now, an entire crowd had gathered around them in the hall, laughing and pointing at Malfoy. Snape had come out of the dungeon and was approaching the commotion briskly, not at all amused. Harry was still smiling. "Oh come off it, Malfoy. You've done worse." Draco stared at Harry-- something wicked was brewing behind those eyes. (Green ones at that!) "Potter! Weasley! Just the two I was looking for!" Harry turned to see Sirius walking down the staircase, robes flowing behind him. "I was hoping to catch you two before class starts-- could you two come with me quickly? I want you to help set up an experiment that I'm planning . . ." he stopped upon sight of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. "Oh. . . er . . ." he coughed back his laughter, "what's all this?" "That," said Snape, who was now at their side, "is precisely what I am hoping to find out." "Ahhh," said Malfoy with a strange smile, "Professor Gray. Here we are-- one big happy family. Our beloved Professor Gray. But I wonder if we would be quite so fond of him if we all knew him by his real name. . ." The hall grew quiet, all eyes upon Malfoy in quiet suspense. Horror swept over Harry as he began to remember last term: Their class trip in the Caledonian Forest was interrupted with Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy had pulled a prank on the Gryffindor tents in the middle of the night. The commotion had apparently brought on an attack of the campsite by the monstrous Moorish Syads. The last Harry had seen of Sirius had been when Sirius wrestled one of the beasts away from Malfoy, saving his life, and the beast sunk its terrible teeth into Sirius' leg. Harry, Ron and Draco had been whisked away to safety by Snape, but Harry was consumed with worry over his Godfather's welfare as her remembered: "This whole thing is your fault, Malfoy! Ariah told me earlier today that Syads are blind to everything except sound and movement. She says we would have proably been fine if you hadn't turned the campsite into a riot! And now I've probably lost Sirius--" "Harry, Sirius is gonna be fine. He'll be waiting for you when we get back home." "S-Sirius? Y-you mean to say that Professor Gray is really Sirius B-Black?" "Yes, Malfoy. He also happens to be Harry's Godfather and I for one can't understand why he even bothered to save your life! He should have left you to the Syads! Better you than him!" How vivid that conversation was now, even though at the time, neither Harry nor Ron had thought anything of it. Harry had never thought it would have led to this . . . Harry started to sweat, "Malfoy. . ." "Oh, no one knows, do they Potter? No one knows who Professor Gray really is?" No! He can't! It isn't possible! Even for Malfoy, he can't do this . . . But deep down inside Harry knew that Malfoy could. And he would. Sirius stiffened, his eyes searching Malfoy, trying desperately to conceal their fright. "Mr. Malfoy, let us not crowd the corridors--" "Go on, Professor. Tell them. They have a right to know." Draco approached Sirius, eyeing him coldly. "Or shall I do it for you?" Not a breath was taken amongst the students. "Brilliant disguise, Professor. You look nothing like you did when you escaped from Azkaban. The fat lady doesn't even recognize you and you are the reason that she still has nightmares so often. Remember that, Professor Gray? Or should we call you Professor. . . Black?" The words were so horrific that they left Harry momentarily stunned-- numbed. Unable to comprehend the infinite malevolence of those words or the malevolence of the one who had uttered them. The students faces were torn with disbelief and fright. The very notion was ludicrous-- Professor Gray was really Sirius Black? Absurd! No one-- not even a Malfoy would joke about something as serious as that. And that was the precise reason that the seed of question was taking root. Snape's face betrayed nothing, as usual, although Harry had definitely seen him flinch with Malfoy's words. "That is enough, Mr. Malfoy." Draco shot him a deathly stare which Snape quite willingly returned. "Don't be daft," Seamus Finnegan said, laughing nervously. "Professor Gray can't be Sirius Black!" But Seamus was staring at Professor Gray much differently now. Malfoy folded his arms. "Since when is anything the way it seems?" And then, to heighten Harry's alarm, whispers started in amongst the students. And Harry knew that Draco had won. Sirius himself remained perfectly still, standing tall and proud. But the look in Sirius' eyes told Harry that even he knew Malfoy had won. "What's all this?" Dumbledore was approaching swiftly, with a look of such concern-- even anger-- that it was obvious he knew exactly what was going on. He stared at Draco, who stepped backwards into Crabbe under the ferocity of that gaze. "Nothing, Sir. I'm just bringing out what should never have been covered over in the first place." Dumbledore was willing to play the game. "And what is that, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco cleared his throat. "Th-that Professor Gray is really Sirius Black. I know it because Potter and Weasley and Professor Snape told me so last term!" Harry was intensely watching every last move that Dumbledore made. He caught a quick glance at Ron and Hermione and they were doing the same thing. "Ah," said Dumbledore wisely, "so Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley chose to entrust you with a secret? I wasn't aware you were such good friends." Harry caught a ghost of a smile at Snape's lips-- the feeling was mutual! Dumbledore knew precisely what he was doing. "Mr. Malfoy, I certainly thank you for your concern, however it might suite you better to remember that perhaps you do not know everything and that such an accusation as the one you have just made should be ready to be backed up by viable fact and not on hearsay." Dumbledore's eyes were still burning in their seriousness. "This way, Professor Gray, Professor Snape. My office, please. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter? You two as well." Hermione was clutching Ron's arm and they stared at Harry, looking terrified and positively ill with worry. It was surely the same way that Harry looked. The four followed Professor Dumbledore up the staircase in complete silence, the whispers behind them sending a shiver down Harry's spine. And the fact that Draco Malfoy was actually walking close to him was enough to make Harry want to vomit. Preferably all over Malfoy . . . Soon they were at the Gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore's office and he hurried them inside. He was not pleased. "Well, my little green friend, it would seem that you have opened a Pandora's Box of sorts." Dumbledore took a seat at his desk, stroking his long white beard. "Which, I have no doubt, was precisely your intention." Draco's head was held high, just as his fathers' always was. Harry was visited with a pleasant thought of Malfoy as a garden gnome and what a grand time it would be to grab him by his ankles and chuck him as far as he could. . . Professor Snape stepped forward. "If I may, Sir, it is most unfortunate, what Malfoy has done, but one could hardly argue that it was inevitable." The door burst open at that moment and in stormed Hagrid. "It's all over the school, sir! The kids are actually believin' it!" "Well it is the truth," said Draco smugly. That was it. Harry snapped. "Ever stop to think, Malfoy, that maybe Sirius is here because of those students that you've just turned against him? To help protect them from the real criminals in this world--" "That's enough Harry," said Dumbledore mildly. "-- criminals like your father!" If Draco hadn't been lime green, his face would have surely been bright red. "A father who at least had enough sense to not get himself blown up unlike some!" "Murdered it what it was, and I would rather my father fight and give his life for what's right than cower in fear behind a hood like yours--" "How dare you talk about my father--" "--and how dare you talk about mine! I thought that maybe there was a chance you were different than your father-- that there was some hope for you, but now you've shown yourself to be just as much a bloody coward as he is, if not moreso--" "Harry!" Dumbledore's voice silenced them both. The two rivals kept their gaze on each other, and Harry finally tore it away. He caught sight of Sirius who had removed his glasses and gave him weary smile. "Angry words cannot fix the past, nor can they aid the present." Dumbledore sighed. He took out a quill and began writing something down on a piece of parchment, still talking. "The damage has been done and Severus is quite correct that if not by Malfoy then by some other force, your identity would eventually be revealed, Sirius." Sirius nodded. And then he spoke, his voice hestiant. "Sir . . will this mean. . ." "Your return to Azkaban?" Harry's knees nearly gave out from under him. "WHAT?" Dumbledore paused in his writing and looked up at Sirius, slowly removing his spectacles. "That, I assure you, is not an option, my dear Mr. Black." Harry smiled and threw a look of relief at Sirius. He turned to Snape-- of course, Snape wasn't smiling or frowning, but his coal black eyes were softer than they usually were which betrayed the possibility that he did actually care. "Hagrid, see that this message is sent via Urgent Owl to Cornelius Fudge. We will need to sort this out together, I'm afraid. In the mean time, I will tell the students that all is perfectly well and their safety is assured. And Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore eyed him and Draco backed away, "I trust that nothing of this nature will ever come up again. Will it?" Harry was frowning at Draco, who finally nodded a quick 'yes.' "And Sirius . . . you understand that I cannot have you return to class." Sirius inhaled deeply to calm himself and he nodded in agreement. Dumbledore sighed again. "Old Fudge is simply going to love this." Fudge arrived by lunchtime and Harry was called out of Transfiguration, amid questioning eyes and more whispers, to go back up to Dumbledore's office. He arrived in the office to find Sirius sitting next to Professor Snape and Hagrid in the corner of the room. Cornelius Fudge was seated at Dumbledore's desk. He was looking most disagreeable, his round face red and wrinkled in distaste, and he was currently running his porky fingers through whatever white hair he had left. "Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You're just in time. I was in the process of explaining to Minister Fudge that having Sirius Black on campus was indeed acting in the best interest of all the students." "Absolutely," said Harry. "Hogwarts was never safer." "The point, Albus, is that you have been employing and escaped convict--" "Who-is-innocent," Harry spat. "--who has been convicted of murder. Thirteen, as a matter of fact. In both Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Now, even if Black is as harmless as a fly, his record cannot be ignored. I expected better judgement on your part, Albus. You deliberately flouted the Ministry and, might I remind you, were you anyone else, serious charges would be brought against you." "Right," said Harry, "Brilliant, Sir. Have him removed that way a school govenor like Lucius Malfoy can take over things. If you can have a Death Eater on the school board, then we can have an innocent escaped convict on campus!" Dumbledore smiled. "We should all have the innocent logic of a sixteen year old." Fudge was still speaking, "Lucius' name has been cleared of all charges, young Mr. Potter. Unlike Mr. Black. As the Minister of Magic, I cannot allow a convicted fellon at such an institution simply because you say 'it's fair.'" "Minister Fudge?" It was Professor Snape, standing up from his chair. "I can say without any reservation that the students here are perfectly safe with Black here on campus. You well know my loyalty to this school and I would not stand for anything less." "Aye," said Hagrid, joining his side, "and we need 'im! Don't like what I'm hearin' from the giants these days, no siree. We need people like him 'round here!" Fudge looked tired. "Again, there is no evidence of Black's innocence other than your word. And while it is good enough for some, it will not stand up in court." Harry fought to keep his mouth shut, but it was no use. "No thanks to a certain someone who killed the one witness who could have set the entire thing straight." Harry . . . you probably shouldn't have said that to the Minister of Magic . . . And why not? It was true! Fudge blinked at Harry and then turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "That is not the issue. Albus, I will see to it that Black is not turned in to Azkaban. I will ensure that the Prophet reports the entire situation to be a hoax and that Hogwarts is perfectly safe and extends it deepest apologies for any anxiety the rumor may have caused." "Minister Fudge?" Fudge turned around and found Sirius Black standing before him. His voice was soft and tremulous. "Do you believe me, Sir? Do you believe that I am innocent?" Fudge was quiet for a very long time. "I've known you and Severus since your youths. Your . . . distaste, shall we call it, for each other is legend. And for Severus to sit here next to you and speak in your behalf-- there must be truth to it." "Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "I should like to arrange for a decent dwelling for Mr. Black. In a government that stands for justice, the injustice he has suffered it quite beyond comprehension. As any falsely accused can tell you-- right Hagrid?" Fudge was caught! He'd been the reason of Hagrid's unfair imprisonment to Azkaban and the same was true of Sirius. "A place that is secure and safe-- he hasn't had a real place to call home in sixteen years." Fudge sighed. "Very well." That seemed to please Dumbledore and he smiled at Harry. "That will do, Harry. Thank you. I must speak with Fudge privately now, and I believe that you are wanted in Charms." Harry nodded slowly and turned to face Sirius again. He hesitated and then flung himself onto him, hugging him tightly. Sirius calmly pat Harry's back and said quietly, "None of that. Come now, Harry, none of that." Harry took a step back and looked up at his Godfather, teary eyed. "I'm going to miss you, Sirius." "Ah, well, no need to be sad. I won't be far away." Sirius sounded as though he were trying to convince himself more than Harry. He was vying to keep his voice steady, but still faltered. "You know that I will never be far away from you, my boy." Sirius was saying goodbye, and Harry knew it. Not knowing what else to say, he turned away from his Godfather and drug his feet out of the office and back out into the empty corridor. The silence made Harry one step closer to giving way to tears. He shuffled down to Professor Flitwick's classroom, which was deep into study, and took his seat. His nerves were frayed and he was in perfect shock. Ron and Hermione smiled supportively, but even that was no use. "Reckon it's him?" It was Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan nudging Harry's arm. "I mean-- could it really be the Sirius Black?" "Right, Ernie. And I'm the Heir of Slytherin, remember?" Ron coughed back a laugh and Ernie looked stunned. "Cor Harry," said Hannah Abbot, "what's with the sulk you've got on?" "Just had a rough day, that's all," said Harry quickly, wanting to bury himself behind his charms book-or better still, run up to the dorms and close the door so that he could cry like he really wanted to. "Why'd you get called out of Transfiguration?" she prodded. Ron knew that Harry was on the edge and he cut in. "He would have told you if it concerned you at all, Hannah Abbot." Hannah blinked and turned up her nose, muttering something under her breath that sounded like 'typical Gryffindors,' but at least no one bothered Harry for the rest of the class. They climbed up to Gryffindor tower, Ron and Hermione trying desperately to remain optimistic, but really, there wasn't much to be optimistic about. "Fudge isn't going to let him stay," said Harry. "He's leaving today." "Where's he going?" asked Hermione. "I don't know." They reached the Gryffindor entrance to find the Fat Lady stuffing the remnants of a strawberry tart into her mouth. "Pashward?" she said through her mouthful, brushing the crumbs off her pink gown. "Aubergene," said Ron quickly and they stepped inside to the Gryffindor common room. "I don't get it-- why didn't Fudge take Sirius back into custody if he made such a fuss about him being an escaped convict? It would have made Fudge look like a hero, having Black back in Azkaban-- something his career could really use right now." Harry shuddered at the thought, but Ron was entirely correct. It would have been a marvelous career opportunity for Fudge. Why hadn't he done it? "I dunno. Dumbledore is looking after him," said Harry, "but . . . the point is . . . he's not going to be here anymore. Sure, Fudge and Dumbledore may have been able to smooth over the rumor and are gonna keep Sirius out of Azkaban, but . . . I dunno, it's just that. . . he's being taken away from me. Again." And the reason for it was staring him right in the face everywhere he turned. Now, Harry had always, of course, had less than amicable feelings towards Draco Malfoy, but it was now without a shadow of a doubt, a consuming, unadulterated, overpowering hatred for him. The next morning at breakfast , Harry waited impatiently for the Prophet to arrive, halfway expecting the headlines wouldn't read: HOGWARTS HARBORS BLACK or something like that. But it didn't . . . In fact the only mention of the rumor was a small bi-line at the bottom of the front page stating that Gray would no longer be a teacher at Hogwarts for "unexpected personal reasons". The rest of the front page was dedicated to something so horrible that it succeeded in turning Harry's thoughts away from Sirius and Malfoy: DARK MARK STRIKES AGAIN
GLASGOW, Scotland. The Wizarding Community is this day mourning the loss of Mr. Giles Garring of Springburn, who for the past fifty-three years, owned and maintained a beloved Parchment and Quillery in Glasgow City. He was found dead yesterday afternoon in his store office. Garring, 78, had been complaining of severe headaches yesterday morning and sent his young apprentice, Gabriel Browne, 16, also of Springburn, to fetch a potion at the nearby Glasgow Apothecary to calm his headaches. Browne relates that by the time he returned with the draft, Garring was dead. "He was lying facedown in his office," Browne told authorities yesterday. "I noticed a funny smell in the store, so I went outdoors and sent an Urgent Owl to the Ministry of Magic." When Ministry officials arrived, they determined that Garring had died of an apparent poisoning due to his advanced state of decomposition. They then discovered a yellow envelope which contained the remains of a fine, brown powder-- the lethal, and illegal, "Alsace Dust". The envelope may have held as much as six grams of the substance-- which causes severe brain hemmoraging in its victims. Such a large amount of Alsace Dust would be more than enough to kill not just one person, but several. "If Mr. Garring hadn't sent me to buy that draft, I'd probably be dead too," said a distraught Browne. To worsen the situation, the envelope containing the killing powder displayed the insignia of the Dark Mark. Minister Fudge made the following statement yesterday evening: "There appears to be no reason or pattern to these killings. They are random and deliberate acts of murder and the Ministry will not stand for it. We shall see to the safety of the wizarding community by bringing these events to an end." Giles W. Garring was survived by his Muggle wife Eunice and their daughters Violet and Viola. Memorial services are to be held at Bishopbriggs Cemetray this Sunday. The Great Hall fell eerily silent-- it had rarely been so quiet. And then, for the second time in two days, the whispering began. "Three times," said Hermione quietly. "Unbelievable. Three times in three months that the Dark Mark has appeared." "Yesterday, Dumbledore said that he had to speak to Fudge privately-- I bet you that's what it was about." The rest of the Gryffindor table looked ghostly pale. "It makes me afraid for Gran," said Neville. "She's all alone in that house and we're not so very far from Glasgow." Harry turned around to see what the Slytherins' reactions were-- the table was generally subdued. Malfoy was reading the paper aloud to Crabbe and Goyle Probably because those morons can't read, thought Harry. He couldn't read Malfoy's expression, but it didn't matter-- the fact was that Malfoy's father had a direct hand in Giles Garring's murder. Even if he hadn't personally sent the envelope, he supported those who did and that was more than enough. The mood in the corridors that day was much the same as it had been at Diagon Alley: somber. Snape's class had rarely been as well behaved as it was that morning-- even the Slytherins were behaving themselves. Harry climbed the staircases to the second floor with Ron and Hermione, towards the defense against the dark arts classroom. Harry trudged in, absolutely dreading it. That safe, warm, protective aura was gone-- it was now just a cold, stone walled classroom. No matter who their defense against the dark arts professor was, it couldn't replace Sirius nor ease the pain of Harry's loss. But it could render him speechless. Quite speechless. In fact, it could quite literally knock Harry over. Within the twinkling of an eye, Harry forgot all about Sirius and Malfoy and the Dark Mark in Glasgow. He didn't even feel like he was standing in a classroom-- no, he was someplace far different. A place that smelled like cabbage and was decorated with framed photographs of cats and huge knitted throw rugs and afgans. It simply couldn't have been the dark arts classroom-- because not ten feet in front of him, unmistakable as day, was. . . Mrs. Figg.
It was probably the first time that students from all Hogwarts Houses were in agreement in their adulation for a teacher. Even Slytherin house couldn't relapse into shallow slamming of his robes as they had with Lupin-- Sirius was a sharp dresser! Professor Gray despised lecuturing and felt the students should have as much hands on experience as possible, so the classes consisted primarily of demonstrations and class discussions. He would sit on the edge of his desk, his left leg swinging casually over the side, talking to the students without the usual reserve or degree of a Professor-- and the students respected him immensely for it. He even started a classroom competition that became phenomenally successful: each student racked up points through the week (not for their houses, but for them) by answering questions and turning in homework, and the winner each week was awarded an automatic "A" on their weekly exam. You can bet the competition was fierce. Harry, of course, was thrilled at Sirius' second term success and was bursting with pride every time a student called Professor Gray their favorite. He even caught whispers here and there from the faculty about Gray's 'uncanny way with the students.' Dumbledore had never been more pleased. And Snape . . .well, let's just say that as the proverbial least favorite of the students, Snape had nothing to say on the matter save for a lot of scowls and frowns. The rest of the faculty, however, appeared to be just as enamored with Gray's winning formula as the students were. (Specifically Professor Sinistra, Harry's astronomy teacher, who just about swooned every evening at dinner since she was seated directly next to him.) Professor Flitwick, even, made attempts to copy the technique: his first lesson was teaching a charm called Abeos-- shrinking charms-- and had great success when he asked students up to the front of the class to be the receiving end of the charm! Of almost equal excitement was Harry and Hermione's fast approaching first Apparition class at the Ministry. Harry tried to remain subdued about the matter with Hermione, not wanting to admit that he was every bit as excited as she was about it, but it was no use. Especially when they awoke to a brilliant, bright Sunday morning. They met in the common room, satchels over their shoulders, and hurried to Professor McGonagall's office. Of course she'd been waiting for them and after a quick 'good morning' she reached for a pewter bowl (the color of which complimented her gray robes) and held it out to Harry and Hermione. Despite his excitement, Harry couldn't help but grimace as he reached into the bowl and took a handfull of the floo powder. Traveling via floo powder was right up there with Potions finals in his book, but he knew the destination would be worth it. McGonagall showed them to the large fireplace in her office, and Harry stepped inside, closing his eyes tightly, not wanting to see what the next few moments would bring. "Ministry of Magic," he enunciated loudly, threw down the powder, and was instantly engulfed in thick green smoke. ** Just behind the Tower of London, on a rather ugly industrial alley around the corner from the Tower bridge, lay the Ministry of Magic. To Muggle eyes it was just another nondescript warehouse on another dingy London alleyway. But to Harry and Hermione, it was absolutely beautiful. The Ministry was a large, fortress-like building, which is why it fit in so nicely being located next to the ancient Tower. It stretched for most of the block, rising tall and proud with enormous windows that looked out onto the Muggle-infested alley -- Muggles who hadn't a clue as to just what that strange, condemned warehouse really was. It wasn't as old as the Tower of London, so Hermione informed him, being built in the mid 1500s with the election of Wizardkind's first Minister, Altunas Mallory. Thus, Tudor furnishings greeted them when they walked inside-- the creaky, dark wood floors, high beamed ceiling and richly framed portraits of men in ruffs and ladies with farthingales. (Harry was immediately struck by a portrait of a man with a pointed beard and crisp starched ruff playing a lute to the portrait next to him who kept sighing and blushing). It was the most impressive place Harry had ever stepped into (aside from Hogwarts of course). "This way," said McGonagall. They walked down the main hallway-- the roof stretched high above them and great hanging tapestries lined the walls. This hallway smelled of time and Harry could feel it around him-- centuries of strength and fortitude. So many other footsteps had walked these halls before him-- such important men that he suddenly felt tiny and unimportant. In front of them was a high desk made of deep mahogany. A plump witch with a cherry red nose looked up from her spectacles and paperwork at the sound of the approaching visitors. "Minerva!' In an instant she was out from behind her desk and at their side. "Velma!" Professor McGonagall's general reserve was forgotten upon sight of this contagiously cheerful woman. Minerva's normally skeptical eyes were bright-- her smile magnetic and she suddenly looked several years younger (if not decades)! They were embracing. "What a wonderful surprise! Oh Minerva, it's been entirely too long! My goodness, it's been--" "-- at least six years! Last time I saw you was at the Witches Riding League Christmas Party!" Velma put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my, you're right! And I seem to remember trying to convince someone not to have that fourth bottle of ale--" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "It was butterbeer. . ." "--oh, but weren't you a riot! Remember? You led us all in a chorus of Auld Lang Syne so raucous that the Ministry appeared to break up all the commotion!" "Velma," said McGonagall sternly. "Allow me to introduce you to my students . . ." Velma coughed and subdued her smiles. "Oh! Oh, I see! Er . . ." she held out her hand. "I'm Velma Sverlow, how do you do?" Hermione shook hands firmly, "I'm Hermione." Harry did the same. "And I'm Harry." Velma's mouth fell. "Oh! But. . . but you're Harry Potter!" She grabbed his hand and shook it forcefully. "Delighted, my dear fellow, positively delighted." "Miss Granger and Mr. Potter are here to attend the Ministry's Apparition classes." "Indeed? Splendid! This way, then. Follow me! My, how he looks like his father, doesn't he Minerva? Not tall like James was, but then again Lily was rather small. My, the resemblance is uncanny. . ." Velma led them up a narrow, winding staircase of bathstone steps, lit only by smoldering candles. After at least three flights, they entered out into a simply regal hall-- spacious with a high dome, frescoed ceiling of bright renaissance blues and greens. Their heels clicked loudly on the wood floor, every sound they made bouncing off the walls. In the center of the room were long tables, much like the ones in Hogwarts classrooms, and a large blackboard at the far end of the hall. "You're a bit early," Velma was saying. "Either that or everyone else is running late." "Never running late, just . . . arriving in fashion!" Harry turned to see a woman with long, platinum hair stride into the room. "Professor Warwick," Harry and Hermione cried. "Well, well!" She was beaming. "And look who's here!" She walked over to them and greeted them both with a quick hug. "Hermione, you're looking lovely. And Harry! My, what a handsome devil you're turning out to be! Oh, indeed it is wonderful to see you both again." Harry was blushing. "And you'll be taking this course, will you? Fantastic! My two favorite Hogwarts students here to support my new foray in the teaching profession." "If it comforts you any," said Hermione, "I think that all of the kids back at school would rather have had you stay on as Potions master than having Snape come back." Professor Warwick smiled softly. "Oh how you do run on, Miss Granger! Severus is probably the best potions master Hogwarts has ever had. I only hope that I'll be half the teacher he is." "You already are," said Hemione seriously. "Ah, never too early to start buttering up the Professor, that's for sure. But enough of that talk, here, let me give you your textbooks. And you've brought your supplies? Good . . ." "Professor Warwick," said McGonagall, "if everything is ready, then I'll be leaving." "You're going back to Hogwarts?" asked Hermione. "Great Merlin, child, nonsense. I adore London -- always have-- and am quite content doing my paper work from here. There is a delightful library in the courtyard-- I'll be there if you have any need of me. Good day, Ariah." "Good Day, Minerva." Professor McGonagall left the room, just as the rest of the Apparition students began walking in. Harry and Hermione took their seats next to each other at the front of the class (this at Hermione's insistance) and their table was soon joined by three older, wiry haired wizards. To call the makeup of the classroom eclectic would be a vast understatement: wizards and witches of every shape, size and color had assembled in the room. Plump, gaunt, ivory skinned, ebony skinned, blue eyed, green eyed, black-eyed (literally) and just about everything in between. Their Apparition Texbook was the thickest they had ever seen. Harry's heart sunk somewhat to find it written in near microscopic print and filled with charts and diagrams-- not exactly riveting entertainment, to be sure. Hermione Granger was in her element. By the end of the day, Harry was mentally drained. He'd always loved Professor Warwick's teaching, but it took a lot of effort for him to interest himself in her words. Hermione seemed to have had no difficulty and spouted off to Professor McGonagall all the "fascinating" things they'd learned as they approached a Ministry fireplace to return home. Interesting how a day of non-physical activity can really work up an appetite. Harry was positively ravenous when they reached Hogwarts again-- thankfully just within moments of Supper time. Ron was eager to hear all about their day, and Hermione narrated the days events to him as they walked down to the Great Hall. "Hey-- where's Seamus?" Harry stared at the Gryffindor table and there was an empty space where Seamus usually sat. Dean looked angry. "Madame Pomfreys." "What? Why?" "Malfoy," Ron hissed. "Today after breakfast, we were all out at the Pitch, having a quick game of Quidditch. Minding our own business. Then Malfoy shows up with Scab and Boil and has the gaul to ask to join in--" "They did that on purpose," said Dean bitterly. "They knew we'd say no so they'd have a reason to start a fight." "Which is exactly what happened," said Ron. "And when Malfoy called Seamus a mudblood, well, you know Seamus' temper. He threw a punch right at Malfoy's face--" "Really?" cried Harry, delighted at the very idea. "-- and missed." "Oh." "Yeah. So Malfoy, that stupid, lanky git, pulls out his wand--" "--and so did Seamus, but Malfoy was quicker--" "--and Malfoy tries to put that Abeos charm on him--" "--but of course he's such a twat that he messes it up and instead of just shrinking Seamus--" "--suddenly there's Seamus on the grass in a nappy--" "-- a bleedin' one year old!" Hermione gasped and Harry's mouth fell. "You're joking!" "Certainly not," said Ron. "I had to carry him up to Madame Pomfreys-- she about had a heart attack when she saw it." "He'll-- he'll be okay, right?" "Madame Pomfrey says that it'll take a couple days to reverse the aging process, but he'll be back to his normal self by midweek." Harry shook his head. "Can't believe it. What a complete tosser that Malfoy is. . ." Neville looked hurt. "I know. And he's been prancing about campus all day, just as proud as he can be." "Don't worry," said Ron, "we're gonna get Malfoy back." "Good," said Hermione instensely, "And Dean and I will pretend that we never heard you say that." Seamus was an incredibly good sport about everything. He walked into the great hall for breakfast on Wednesday morning with a smile on his face-- helped by the fact that the Gryffindors broke out into applause upon his arrival. "Just bloody lucky we have Madame Pomfrey around," he said, as he ate a hearty helping of porridge, "don't reckon it would have been much fun learning to walk all over again." They walked to potions together, keenly aware of the Slyhterins sniggers and laughter as Seamus walked past them, but choosing to ignore it. Besides, there was something in the calmness of both Seamus and Ron that told Harry they had something up their sleeves. And sure enough, they did! Potions was half over and Snape had left the students alone to perfect a new dreaming draft. It was an error on Snape's behalf: he should have known better than to leave the students to themselves when a Gryffindor retaliation was almost expected. Nothing happened until class was over. The Gryffindors had cleaned up their cauldrons and were on their way out of the dungeon, making their way to the starcase to go up for class with Professor Gray. "Finnegan! You bastard!" Harry spun around to see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle running out of the potions dungeon, bearing down the corridor towards them: completely green. Their skin was green, their fingernails were green, their eyebrows, eyelashes, robes, shoes-- everything had turned a bright lime green! The Gryffindors burst into laughter. "Hello, Malfoy," said Seamus cordially, grinning at them. "Not feeling well? You don't quite look yourself today. . ." Malfoy was fuming, his green mouth was thin and cross, and his green fists were clenched. "You are gonna pay for this! You and Weasley both!" "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," said Ron. "But if I were you I'd pay more attention to your formulas! Look what you did to yourselves!" "You did this! You know you did this!" By now, an entire crowd had gathered around them in the hall, laughing and pointing at Malfoy. Snape had come out of the dungeon and was approaching the commotion briskly, not at all amused. Harry was still smiling. "Oh come off it, Malfoy. You've done worse." Draco stared at Harry-- something wicked was brewing behind those eyes. (Green ones at that!) "Potter! Weasley! Just the two I was looking for!" Harry turned to see Sirius walking down the staircase, robes flowing behind him. "I was hoping to catch you two before class starts-- could you two come with me quickly? I want you to help set up an experiment that I'm planning . . ." he stopped upon sight of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. "Oh. . . er . . ." he coughed back his laughter, "what's all this?" "That," said Snape, who was now at their side, "is precisely what I am hoping to find out." "Ahhh," said Malfoy with a strange smile, "Professor Gray. Here we are-- one big happy family. Our beloved Professor Gray. But I wonder if we would be quite so fond of him if we all knew him by his real name. . ." The hall grew quiet, all eyes upon Malfoy in quiet suspense. Horror swept over Harry as he began to remember last term: Their class trip in the Caledonian Forest was interrupted with Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy had pulled a prank on the Gryffindor tents in the middle of the night. The commotion had apparently brought on an attack of the campsite by the monstrous Moorish Syads. The last Harry had seen of Sirius had been when Sirius wrestled one of the beasts away from Malfoy, saving his life, and the beast sunk its terrible teeth into Sirius' leg. Harry, Ron and Draco had been whisked away to safety by Snape, but Harry was consumed with worry over his Godfather's welfare as her remembered: "This whole thing is your fault, Malfoy! Ariah told me earlier today that Syads are blind to everything except sound and movement. She says we would have proably been fine if you hadn't turned the campsite into a riot! And now I've probably lost Sirius--" "Harry, Sirius is gonna be fine. He'll be waiting for you when we get back home." "S-Sirius? Y-you mean to say that Professor Gray is really Sirius B-Black?" "Yes, Malfoy. He also happens to be Harry's Godfather and I for one can't understand why he even bothered to save your life! He should have left you to the Syads! Better you than him!" How vivid that conversation was now, even though at the time, neither Harry nor Ron had thought anything of it. Harry had never thought it would have led to this . . . Harry started to sweat, "Malfoy. . ." "Oh, no one knows, do they Potter? No one knows who Professor Gray really is?" No! He can't! It isn't possible! Even for Malfoy, he can't do this . . . But deep down inside Harry knew that Malfoy could. And he would. Sirius stiffened, his eyes searching Malfoy, trying desperately to conceal their fright. "Mr. Malfoy, let us not crowd the corridors--" "Go on, Professor. Tell them. They have a right to know." Draco approached Sirius, eyeing him coldly. "Or shall I do it for you?" Not a breath was taken amongst the students. "Brilliant disguise, Professor. You look nothing like you did when you escaped from Azkaban. The fat lady doesn't even recognize you and you are the reason that she still has nightmares so often. Remember that, Professor Gray? Or should we call you Professor. . . Black?" The words were so horrific that they left Harry momentarily stunned-- numbed. Unable to comprehend the infinite malevolence of those words or the malevolence of the one who had uttered them. The students faces were torn with disbelief and fright. The very notion was ludicrous-- Professor Gray was really Sirius Black? Absurd! No one-- not even a Malfoy would joke about something as serious as that. And that was the precise reason that the seed of question was taking root. Snape's face betrayed nothing, as usual, although Harry had definitely seen him flinch with Malfoy's words. "That is enough, Mr. Malfoy." Draco shot him a deathly stare which Snape quite willingly returned. "Don't be daft," Seamus Finnegan said, laughing nervously. "Professor Gray can't be Sirius Black!" But Seamus was staring at Professor Gray much differently now. Malfoy folded his arms. "Since when is anything the way it seems?" And then, to heighten Harry's alarm, whispers started in amongst the students. And Harry knew that Draco had won. Sirius himself remained perfectly still, standing tall and proud. But the look in Sirius' eyes told Harry that even he knew Malfoy had won. "What's all this?" Dumbledore was approaching swiftly, with a look of such concern-- even anger-- that it was obvious he knew exactly what was going on. He stared at Draco, who stepped backwards into Crabbe under the ferocity of that gaze. "Nothing, Sir. I'm just bringing out what should never have been covered over in the first place." Dumbledore was willing to play the game. "And what is that, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco cleared his throat. "Th-that Professor Gray is really Sirius Black. I know it because Potter and Weasley and Professor Snape told me so last term!" Harry was intensely watching every last move that Dumbledore made. He caught a quick glance at Ron and Hermione and they were doing the same thing. "Ah," said Dumbledore wisely, "so Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley chose to entrust you with a secret? I wasn't aware you were such good friends." Harry caught a ghost of a smile at Snape's lips-- the feeling was mutual! Dumbledore knew precisely what he was doing. "Mr. Malfoy, I certainly thank you for your concern, however it might suite you better to remember that perhaps you do not know everything and that such an accusation as the one you have just made should be ready to be backed up by viable fact and not on hearsay." Dumbledore's eyes were still burning in their seriousness. "This way, Professor Gray, Professor Snape. My office, please. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter? You two as well." Hermione was clutching Ron's arm and they stared at Harry, looking terrified and positively ill with worry. It was surely the same way that Harry looked. The four followed Professor Dumbledore up the staircase in complete silence, the whispers behind them sending a shiver down Harry's spine. And the fact that Draco Malfoy was actually walking close to him was enough to make Harry want to vomit. Preferably all over Malfoy . . . Soon they were at the Gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore's office and he hurried them inside. He was not pleased. "Well, my little green friend, it would seem that you have opened a Pandora's Box of sorts." Dumbledore took a seat at his desk, stroking his long white beard. "Which, I have no doubt, was precisely your intention." Draco's head was held high, just as his fathers' always was. Harry was visited with a pleasant thought of Malfoy as a garden gnome and what a grand time it would be to grab him by his ankles and chuck him as far as he could. . . Professor Snape stepped forward. "If I may, Sir, it is most unfortunate, what Malfoy has done, but one could hardly argue that it was inevitable." The door burst open at that moment and in stormed Hagrid. "It's all over the school, sir! The kids are actually believin' it!" "Well it is the truth," said Draco smugly. That was it. Harry snapped. "Ever stop to think, Malfoy, that maybe Sirius is here because of those students that you've just turned against him? To help protect them from the real criminals in this world--" "That's enough Harry," said Dumbledore mildly. "-- criminals like your father!" If Draco hadn't been lime green, his face would have surely been bright red. "A father who at least had enough sense to not get himself blown up unlike some!" "Murdered it what it was, and I would rather my father fight and give his life for what's right than cower in fear behind a hood like yours--" "How dare you talk about my father--" "--and how dare you talk about mine! I thought that maybe there was a chance you were different than your father-- that there was some hope for you, but now you've shown yourself to be just as much a bloody coward as he is, if not moreso--" "Harry!" Dumbledore's voice silenced them both. The two rivals kept their gaze on each other, and Harry finally tore it away. He caught sight of Sirius who had removed his glasses and gave him weary smile. "Angry words cannot fix the past, nor can they aid the present." Dumbledore sighed. He took out a quill and began writing something down on a piece of parchment, still talking. "The damage has been done and Severus is quite correct that if not by Malfoy then by some other force, your identity would eventually be revealed, Sirius." Sirius nodded. And then he spoke, his voice hestiant. "Sir . . will this mean. . ." "Your return to Azkaban?" Harry's knees nearly gave out from under him. "WHAT?" Dumbledore paused in his writing and looked up at Sirius, slowly removing his spectacles. "That, I assure you, is not an option, my dear Mr. Black." Harry smiled and threw a look of relief at Sirius. He turned to Snape-- of course, Snape wasn't smiling or frowning, but his coal black eyes were softer than they usually were which betrayed the possibility that he did actually care. "Hagrid, see that this message is sent via Urgent Owl to Cornelius Fudge. We will need to sort this out together, I'm afraid. In the mean time, I will tell the students that all is perfectly well and their safety is assured. And Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore eyed him and Draco backed away, "I trust that nothing of this nature will ever come up again. Will it?" Harry was frowning at Draco, who finally nodded a quick 'yes.' "And Sirius . . . you understand that I cannot have you return to class." Sirius inhaled deeply to calm himself and he nodded in agreement. Dumbledore sighed again. "Old Fudge is simply going to love this." Fudge arrived by lunchtime and Harry was called out of Transfiguration, amid questioning eyes and more whispers, to go back up to Dumbledore's office. He arrived in the office to find Sirius sitting next to Professor Snape and Hagrid in the corner of the room. Cornelius Fudge was seated at Dumbledore's desk. He was looking most disagreeable, his round face red and wrinkled in distaste, and he was currently running his porky fingers through whatever white hair he had left. "Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You're just in time. I was in the process of explaining to Minister Fudge that having Sirius Black on campus was indeed acting in the best interest of all the students." "Absolutely," said Harry. "Hogwarts was never safer." "The point, Albus, is that you have been employing and escaped convict--" "Who-is-innocent," Harry spat. "--who has been convicted of murder. Thirteen, as a matter of fact. In both Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Now, even if Black is as harmless as a fly, his record cannot be ignored. I expected better judgement on your part, Albus. You deliberately flouted the Ministry and, might I remind you, were you anyone else, serious charges would be brought against you." "Right," said Harry, "Brilliant, Sir. Have him removed that way a school govenor like Lucius Malfoy can take over things. If you can have a Death Eater on the school board, then we can have an innocent escaped convict on campus!" Dumbledore smiled. "We should all have the innocent logic of a sixteen year old." Fudge was still speaking, "Lucius' name has been cleared of all charges, young Mr. Potter. Unlike Mr. Black. As the Minister of Magic, I cannot allow a convicted fellon at such an institution simply because you say 'it's fair.'" "Minister Fudge?" It was Professor Snape, standing up from his chair. "I can say without any reservation that the students here are perfectly safe with Black here on campus. You well know my loyalty to this school and I would not stand for anything less." "Aye," said Hagrid, joining his side, "and we need 'im! Don't like what I'm hearin' from the giants these days, no siree. We need people like him 'round here!" Fudge looked tired. "Again, there is no evidence of Black's innocence other than your word. And while it is good enough for some, it will not stand up in court." Harry fought to keep his mouth shut, but it was no use. "No thanks to a certain someone who killed the one witness who could have set the entire thing straight." Harry . . . you probably shouldn't have said that to the Minister of Magic . . . And why not? It was true! Fudge blinked at Harry and then turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "That is not the issue. Albus, I will see to it that Black is not turned in to Azkaban. I will ensure that the Prophet reports the entire situation to be a hoax and that Hogwarts is perfectly safe and extends it deepest apologies for any anxiety the rumor may have caused." "Minister Fudge?" Fudge turned around and found Sirius Black standing before him. His voice was soft and tremulous. "Do you believe me, Sir? Do you believe that I am innocent?" Fudge was quiet for a very long time. "I've known you and Severus since your youths. Your . . . distaste, shall we call it, for each other is legend. And for Severus to sit here next to you and speak in your behalf-- there must be truth to it." "Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "I should like to arrange for a decent dwelling for Mr. Black. In a government that stands for justice, the injustice he has suffered it quite beyond comprehension. As any falsely accused can tell you-- right Hagrid?" Fudge was caught! He'd been the reason of Hagrid's unfair imprisonment to Azkaban and the same was true of Sirius. "A place that is secure and safe-- he hasn't had a real place to call home in sixteen years." Fudge sighed. "Very well." That seemed to please Dumbledore and he smiled at Harry. "That will do, Harry. Thank you. I must speak with Fudge privately now, and I believe that you are wanted in Charms." Harry nodded slowly and turned to face Sirius again. He hesitated and then flung himself onto him, hugging him tightly. Sirius calmly pat Harry's back and said quietly, "None of that. Come now, Harry, none of that." Harry took a step back and looked up at his Godfather, teary eyed. "I'm going to miss you, Sirius." "Ah, well, no need to be sad. I won't be far away." Sirius sounded as though he were trying to convince himself more than Harry. He was vying to keep his voice steady, but still faltered. "You know that I will never be far away from you, my boy." Sirius was saying goodbye, and Harry knew it. Not knowing what else to say, he turned away from his Godfather and drug his feet out of the office and back out into the empty corridor. The silence made Harry one step closer to giving way to tears. He shuffled down to Professor Flitwick's classroom, which was deep into study, and took his seat. His nerves were frayed and he was in perfect shock. Ron and Hermione smiled supportively, but even that was no use. "Reckon it's him?" It was Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan nudging Harry's arm. "I mean-- could it really be the Sirius Black?" "Right, Ernie. And I'm the Heir of Slytherin, remember?" Ron coughed back a laugh and Ernie looked stunned. "Cor Harry," said Hannah Abbot, "what's with the sulk you've got on?" "Just had a rough day, that's all," said Harry quickly, wanting to bury himself behind his charms book-or better still, run up to the dorms and close the door so that he could cry like he really wanted to. "Why'd you get called out of Transfiguration?" she prodded. Ron knew that Harry was on the edge and he cut in. "He would have told you if it concerned you at all, Hannah Abbot." Hannah blinked and turned up her nose, muttering something under her breath that sounded like 'typical Gryffindors,' but at least no one bothered Harry for the rest of the class. They climbed up to Gryffindor tower, Ron and Hermione trying desperately to remain optimistic, but really, there wasn't much to be optimistic about. "Fudge isn't going to let him stay," said Harry. "He's leaving today." "Where's he going?" asked Hermione. "I don't know." They reached the Gryffindor entrance to find the Fat Lady stuffing the remnants of a strawberry tart into her mouth. "Pashward?" she said through her mouthful, brushing the crumbs off her pink gown. "Aubergene," said Ron quickly and they stepped inside to the Gryffindor common room. "I don't get it-- why didn't Fudge take Sirius back into custody if he made such a fuss about him being an escaped convict? It would have made Fudge look like a hero, having Black back in Azkaban-- something his career could really use right now." Harry shuddered at the thought, but Ron was entirely correct. It would have been a marvelous career opportunity for Fudge. Why hadn't he done it? "I dunno. Dumbledore is looking after him," said Harry, "but . . . the point is . . . he's not going to be here anymore. Sure, Fudge and Dumbledore may have been able to smooth over the rumor and are gonna keep Sirius out of Azkaban, but . . . I dunno, it's just that. . . he's being taken away from me. Again." And the reason for it was staring him right in the face everywhere he turned. Now, Harry had always, of course, had less than amicable feelings towards Draco Malfoy, but it was now without a shadow of a doubt, a consuming, unadulterated, overpowering hatred for him. The next morning at breakfast , Harry waited impatiently for the Prophet to arrive, halfway expecting the headlines wouldn't read: HOGWARTS HARBORS BLACK or something like that. But it didn't . . . In fact the only mention of the rumor was a small bi-line at the bottom of the front page stating that Gray would no longer be a teacher at Hogwarts for "unexpected personal reasons". The rest of the front page was dedicated to something so horrible that it succeeded in turning Harry's thoughts away from Sirius and Malfoy: DARK MARK STRIKES AGAIN
GLASGOW, Scotland. The Wizarding Community is this day mourning the loss of Mr. Giles Garring of Springburn, who for the past fifty-three years, owned and maintained a beloved Parchment and Quillery in Glasgow City. He was found dead yesterday afternoon in his store office. Garring, 78, had been complaining of severe headaches yesterday morning and sent his young apprentice, Gabriel Browne, 16, also of Springburn, to fetch a potion at the nearby Glasgow Apothecary to calm his headaches. Browne relates that by the time he returned with the draft, Garring was dead. "He was lying facedown in his office," Browne told authorities yesterday. "I noticed a funny smell in the store, so I went outdoors and sent an Urgent Owl to the Ministry of Magic." When Ministry officials arrived, they determined that Garring had died of an apparent poisoning due to his advanced state of decomposition. They then discovered a yellow envelope which contained the remains of a fine, brown powder-- the lethal, and illegal, "Alsace Dust". The envelope may have held as much as six grams of the substance-- which causes severe brain hemmoraging in its victims. Such a large amount of Alsace Dust would be more than enough to kill not just one person, but several. "If Mr. Garring hadn't sent me to buy that draft, I'd probably be dead too," said a distraught Browne. To worsen the situation, the envelope containing the killing powder displayed the insignia of the Dark Mark. Minister Fudge made the following statement yesterday evening: "There appears to be no reason or pattern to these killings. They are random and deliberate acts of murder and the Ministry will not stand for it. We shall see to the safety of the wizarding community by bringing these events to an end." Giles W. Garring was survived by his Muggle wife Eunice and their daughters Violet and Viola. Memorial services are to be held at Bishopbriggs Cemetray this Sunday. The Great Hall fell eerily silent-- it had rarely been so quiet. And then, for the second time in two days, the whispering began. "Three times," said Hermione quietly. "Unbelievable. Three times in three months that the Dark Mark has appeared." "Yesterday, Dumbledore said that he had to speak to Fudge privately-- I bet you that's what it was about." The rest of the Gryffindor table looked ghostly pale. "It makes me afraid for Gran," said Neville. "She's all alone in that house and we're not so very far from Glasgow." Harry turned around to see what the Slytherins' reactions were-- the table was generally subdued. Malfoy was reading the paper aloud to Crabbe and Goyle Probably because those morons can't read, thought Harry. He couldn't read Malfoy's expression, but it didn't matter-- the fact was that Malfoy's father had a direct hand in Giles Garring's murder. Even if he hadn't personally sent the envelope, he supported those who did and that was more than enough. The mood in the corridors that day was much the same as it had been at Diagon Alley: somber. Snape's class had rarely been as well behaved as it was that morning-- even the Slytherins were behaving themselves. Harry climbed the staircases to the second floor with Ron and Hermione, towards the defense against the dark arts classroom. Harry trudged in, absolutely dreading it. That safe, warm, protective aura was gone-- it was now just a cold, stone walled classroom. No matter who their defense against the dark arts professor was, it couldn't replace Sirius nor ease the pain of Harry's loss. But it could render him speechless. Quite speechless. In fact, it could quite literally knock Harry over. Within the twinkling of an eye, Harry forgot all about Sirius and Malfoy and the Dark Mark in Glasgow. He didn't even feel like he was standing in a classroom-- no, he was someplace far different. A place that smelled like cabbage and was decorated with framed photographs of cats and huge knitted throw rugs and afgans. It simply couldn't have been the dark arts classroom-- because not ten feet in front of him, unmistakable as day, was. . . Mrs. Figg.