Harry thought the world stopped in that instant, when he heard Peeves say what he’d said. He thought that everything slowed down and, that since it had slowed down, he could use that opportunity to escape, to find him and make him tell him why, but no matter what Harry thought, the world did not stop or slow, and so when he turned to go the rest of the students were in his way.

There was panic and pandemonium and Percy was yelling for everyone to be quiet, to calm down, and Professor Dumbledore just raised his arms and roared ‘Silence!’

Everyone stopped moving, then.

“Prefects, escort the children to the Great Hall. Lady—“ he was talking to the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw’s House ghost, “Please go inform the Heads of House to evacuate everyone to the Great Hall, immediately. Peeves—“ the little poltergeist was doing flips in the air, cackling at the picture of panic he had caused. “Peeves, you will tell us where Black went.”

Peeves executed another turn and Harry balked at leaving. He needed to find out where Black had gone, so he could find him. “Won’t, won’t, won’t!”

“Peeves.” Dumbledore’s voice was like verbal thunder, and Harry shivered as Percy started to shepherd all the kids away from the tattered canvas.

“Ha, Headmaster can order Peeves all he likes, but Peevesie needn’t do anything!”

“This castle has been a refuge to you for many years, Peeves, because I believe in second chances. This is your last chance. Tell me which way Black went.”

Peeves stopped doing turns and looked at the headmaster, gobsmacked. “You would turn old Peevesie out, then? Out on his ear? Out on his behind? Ooh, Headmaster isn’t so gloriously forgiving then, is he? Threatening poor Peeves with homelessness—“

“Tell me, Peeves. Now.”

Just as Peeves seemed about to cave, a hand landed on Harry’s shoulder and started to pull him away. Harry looked at the hand, furious, only to see it was rough and stained with potions.

“Professor, no—no, I have to—“

“What you have to do, Potter, is go with the rest of the school to the Great Hall and go to sleep.”

“But sir—Black, he’s here. He’s here, I can ask him—“

“You can ask him nothing. You can go to the Great Hall as you were instructed to do by the Headmaster.”

“Sir—sir, please, I need to know—“

“He would not tell you, Potter, even if you were to find him. More likely he would kill you immediately so he could go bragging to the Dark Lord.” This seemed to shake Harry out of his determination a little bit. “He cannot tell you, Potter. And you will not risk your life looking for some pathetic, crazed murderer! He is not worth it, Potter!” Snape’s voice rose to a yell at the end, and Harry bit his lip.

“I—Sir, I just—he—you won’t let him get away, will you? You’ll catch him, right?” His eyes looked hopeful and Snape felt a little stab of vengeance. Here, here it was, the truth. The truth he had looked for all those years, the little thing that proved that Black had always been wrong about him, because he mattered. He mattered more than Black did.

“If he is still here I will do my best. With each second you delay in going to the Great Hall, however, you run the risk of him finding some abandoned little hole in the walls and slipping free.”

Harry and Snape arrived at the Great Hall just as a frazzled Professor Lupin ran out of it. Harry was hidden behind Snape’s enormous cloak when the man ran towards them.

“Severus, all the children are accounted for except Har—Harry, oh thank God.” The man gathered him up in a bone crushing hug, and Harry stiffened a little before the man let him down. “Harry, thank God you’re okay.”

“No thanks to you,” Snape drawled.

Lupin glared a little at Snape and ruffled Harry’s hair. “The Headmaster’s conjured you all up some sleeping bags so you can get right to sleep. Neville and Hermione have set you all up a cozy kip in the corner between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Head in, would you, chap?” Harry looked at Snape and Snape smirked.

“In with you, then, Potter, and I will go find Black.” Harry nodded and whispered goodbye before ducking into the room.

Lupin shot him a look. “Sirius knows this school better than almost anyone. If he’s hiding somewhere—“

“He won’t be able to hide from me,” Snape snarled, and he took off towards the towers as Lupin watched him from behind.

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Hermione and Neville had set up a cozy area. They had somehow gotten their hands on two extra sleeping bags, one which Harry settled into and one which was unzipped and hit with a shielding charm. “In case,” Hermione said solemnly, and Harry nodded. They lay on their backs and stared at the stars and listened to the ridiculous theories going through the air.

Hermione snorted after someone yelled ‘Apparated in!’ for the seventh time.

“You can’t Apparate in or out of Hogwarts. Honestly, has no one read Hogwarts, A History? It’s disgraceful.”

“How—how do you think he got in, then?” Neville asked.

“A secret passage. Hogwarts is like a honeycomb—passages upon passages. No one knows all of them, even though the headmasters know most. See—“ Hermione, who had brought her school bag to dinner for a little light studying, pulled out a quill and parchment and started to sketch. “See, this is Hogwarts.” She drew a big square castle with four turrets coming out of it.

“There’re a bunch more towers than that,” Neville said.

“Be quiet, Neville, it’s just a symbol! This is Hogwarts, and these—“ she drew circles on various parts of the map, “—are the common rooms.”

“Really?”

“No, Neville, it’s just a diagram! There are at least ten passages near every common area—most made by all the founders, some made only by that House founder, and some added in later by necessity. Of those ten, at least five lead outside or to safe parts of the castle.”

“What, for fire exits and things?” asked Harry, curious.

“Yes, or if the castle were under siege or something. And then each founder made their own little areas and passsages there—like the Chamber, right? So no one can know all of them. Hufflepuff passages are notoriously hard to find, actually. Supposedly there’s one that leads to Hogsmeade from the Goblin Rebellion of 1325—“

“Wicked! Lets go find it!” said Neville.

“Neville, you’re being ridiculous tonight. Sneaking out of Hogwarts is grounds for expulsion, I’ll have you know, and I won’t risk my education for a handful of candy.” Hermione sniffed. “Anyway, most of these passages are sealed from the outside, but there are at least ten that lead outside and are unblocked either way. And the headmaster is monitoring them, I bet.”

“How did he get past, then?” Harry asked.

“Well, it’s Halloween. We were all at the feast and he probably just…slipped past. He was probably going to break in and try to ambush you, Harry,” Hermione said factually.

“Don’t worry, mate, he’d never get a shot off. I’d tackle him,” Neville said, patting Harry’s arm.

Harry smiled. “Yeah.”

Percy Weasley’s voice rang out by magic. “It’s almost midnight! Go to sleep! Dawes, Goring, get out of there! I told you, one sleeping bag per person, no sharing! Go to bed!”

Harry snuggled into his sleeping bag and stared at the stars.

“Sirius is a constellation, you know, he heard a Hufflepuff a little bit away say. “See that, right there?”

Harry turned away and looked at Neville instead.

He woke up a few hours later, hot and confused and his hand pressed to his mouth to stifle the scream of his nightmares. He rolled over and closed his eyes again, listening to Hermione and Neville’s deep breathing, and suddenly he heard footsteps. Before he could panic and think it was Black, he heard the professors smooth voice.

“Mr. Weasley, you may stand down.”

He was surprised to hear Percy’s sleepy voice in reply. “Professor? I just—I wanted to make sure—“

“Commendable, Mr. Weasley. But you may stand down. I will guard Mr. Potter.” He heard Percy walking away and another set of feet coming closer.

“Severus—“

It was the headmaster.

“Severus, the whole castle has been searched with no sign of Black. I believe Harry is quite safe.”

“You also believed that Hogwarts was quite safe,” Snape spat back. “Deranged madmen breaking in, vandalising portraits—is that your idea of safe?”

“Severus—“

“Not to mention that—thing you keep on staff. The monster.” Harry knew he was talking abiout Lupin. “Once a murderer—“

“He is no murderer, and you know it.”

“Attempted. Silly of me, to split hairs between wanting to kill and being prevented—“

“There are some who might call you a monster, Severus.”

There was a dangerous pause. “You among them, I suppose.”

The headmaster sighed. “Of course not. But you, better than anybody, should understand. I received many protests when I appointed you to the staff, yet I did it. Because I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, Severus, and you never even had the first chance. Can’t you see that’s all I am doing? Giving someone with bad luck a new start?”

“If not for James’ unknown cowardice—“

“Severus, you know better.”

The man let out a sigh. “Fine. If not for Potter’s decent side—“ Harry listened as hard ass he could. His father! Snape said his father was decent! “That new start you so desperately yearn to give would be given to him in Azkaban.”

“Can you wish that on him, Severus?”

Snape sighed. “Not on him, no. But on Black—on Black, I more than wish it. I will do it. I will not let him ruin anymore lives, Albus. I will not. I’ll live to see the man Kissed and tossed away.”

“Perhaps—“ here Dumbledore sounded older than Harry had ever heard him.

“Perhaps what? Perhaps you will give the man a second chance and let him live out his life happy as a clam planting flowers on the grounds?”

“No, my boy. He has had his chances.” He paused. “You will be staying here, I suppose?”

“Yes.”

“Think about what I’ve said.”

“Maybe.”

The headmaster walked away, and though Harry yearned to sit up and ask Snape for the whole story, he merely snuggled deeper into his sleeping bag, dropped his head, and went to sleep.

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The next day was bright and sunny and Harry and Neville had great fun waking up early and laughing over Malfoy’s sleepwear. Hermione called them juvenille, but Harry saw even her laughing about Goyle’s green footie pajamas. Then all of Gryffindor trooped into the commons area and dorms and fell asleep. They were lucky it was Sunday.

Percy and a few of the other seventh years started to cast various spells over the entrance way.

“Black won’t get in here without a fight,” Oliver Wood, the Quidditch captain, said proudly.

“I hope he doesn’t get in here at all,” Percy said.

They also received a new portrait—Sir Cadogan. He was a mad knight that used to yell at them on their way to Divs and now yelled at them every morning and night. He challeneged people to duels, called everyone names, and spent his free time thinking up immensely tricky passwords. He was soon nicknamed Sir Curr-ogan, since that was what he called most people. He was Neville’s worst nightmare—Neville, who had never been good at the passswords, was near tears every time he had to enter the commons. Luckily, he scarcely had to go in without Hermione or Harry at his side.

People had started to follow Harry around, though, which alternately vexed him and comforted him at the same time. Percy Weasley, for example, walked him and Neville and Hermione to all their classes, which made Hermione happy because she could chatter to him about the complicated books she had been reading and made Harry feel safe because he remembered how Snape had relieved Percy of duty—Percy, at least, was doing it because he cared. A Slytherin boy by the name of Lawrence Dougal, however, was not.

“When Black goes for him, I’ll be there,” he was heard to brag. “And I won’t let him take that stupid kid anywhere. I’ll be a hero!”

Professor McGonagall had summoned Harry to her office and solemnly offered him Ginger Newts. As he nibbled one, she took a deep breath.

“I had not wanted to tell you this, Harry, because it might frighten you—“

“Is this about Black, Professor?” he asked.

McGonagall looked taken aback. “How did you know about—“

“Professor Snape told me this summer, Professor. He said I had a right to know.”

Her lips thinned out. “Indeed.” She sighed. “Well, Harry, now that you know, you will understand why I must ask you to be very careful. Never go anywhere alone, or out of bounds.”

“No, miss, I won’t, I promise. Professor Snape’s making me spend evenings in his office, studying, anyway.”

That seemed to comfort her a bit, and he left the office none the worse for wear.

The evenings he spent with Snape, reading old, slightly shady potions tomes and sorting ingredients. Sometimes they brewed potions and while they simmered Snape would ask Harry to recite to him all his lessons.

“No, no, no, it’s ad-epto vegran-dis, not adep-to vegrand-is,” Snape scolded him after he mangled the pronunciation of one of the spells in his Charms reading. “How do you expect to perform the spell adequetely without proper pronunciation?”

“We haven’t done this one in class, sir. Sorry.”

“Class or not, how do you expect to learn on your own without proper knowledge of pronunciation? Do you even know what the spell means, Potter?”

Harry blinked. “Erm—it’s a shrinking spell?”

“Translate it from the Latin, boy.”

“I don’t know Latin, Professor.”

The man had given a look that was part disgust and part horror. “What are they teaching you in those Muggle schools? Nothing but rubbish.”

Harry was soon learning Latin every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evening, and Hermione, who had always wanted to learn Latin, was joining them twice a week and pulling Neville along with her. Neville was surprised at first to find himself in the top of the class.

“It’s from knowing plant names!” the boy exclaimed happily when harry asked whether his gran had taught him Latin. Neville was so excited to be the top in something other than Herbology that it even alleviated his fear of Snape a little bit, and he worked hard to not let Hermione and Harry get ahead of him. Regardless, they all advanced quickly, expecially with Snape as a teacher. Soon Neville and Harry would talk about secret things in fracured Latin and English, which was fun as it irritated Seamus to no end.

“Tisn’t English or Gaelic and those’re the only ones that matter!” he complained, which made Harry jerk a thumb in his direction and say a string of nonsense in Latin, which made Seamus throw an inkpot at his head. Harry, luckily, had wonderful reflexes, and Seamus received two weeks detention when it smashed into Professor Trelawney’s face.

Professor Lupin had made good on his word and invited Harry, Hermione, and Neville to tea a few weeks later. Hermione peppered him with questions as she looked over an item for their next class—a Hinkypunk with angry eyes—when Neville asked him a question.

“Sir—Professor, I was wondering—“ he stammered, and Lupin put down his tea cup and smiled kindly at the boy.

“Wondering what, Neville?”

“About—well, about the Dementor. You—how did you—“

“How did I make it go away?” he asked, and Neville nodded furiously. “It’s a very complicated spell called a Patronus. Most grown wizards can’t even summon one.”

Neville looked into his cup and nodded. Hermione squealed.

“Oh, Professor, I remember reading all about that! Patronus is a really handy spell, that’s what the book says—would you teach us, please, professor? Oh, please?”

Professor Lupin looked to be leaning towards no, and Harry let out a small groan. “Hermione, isn’t the Latin enough?”

Lupin looked at him questioningly. “Latin?”

“Professor Snape’s teaching us all Latin. Useful, I guess, but dead boring some nights,” Harry said.

Lupin cleared his throat. “Well, if Professor Snape can find the time, I suppose I can to, can’t I? Of course I’ll teach you. We’ll start in a few weeks, all right?”

So, even though the air was thick with worry and Harry slept with his wand under his pillow and Dumbledore watched him at dinner, Harry was happy. He had his friends and Professor Snape and Professor Lupin wasn’t dangerous or anything like Snape said. So, even though the trees were losing all their leaves and the sky was getting gray and Sirius Black was on the loose, Harry’s life was good.

At least, until the Quidditch match.

Harry loved watching Quidditch more than Neville and Hermione put together. He thought that flying was better than anything else, because when you flew you just left everything behind and you esscaped, you were free. Hermione always brought a book to the game to read in her lap, and Neville was cheerfully enthusiastic for his own team, but Harry just liked to watch the players fly and he would, the whole game, his eyes glued to them. So, on the match day, he was one of the first at the pitch and he snagged three front row seats for him and Neville and Hermione. The weather was foul, but Hermione conjured a bubble around them and he and Neville cheered their hearts out, regardless of rain. Just as Audley Wexler, a fourth year Gryffindor who had made Seeker than year, was about to grab the Snitch, the stadium became eerily silent.

“Neville?” Harry whispered. “Neville, is it—“

Neville just whimpered and Harry felt the cold sweep up him and he started to shiver. Shiver uncontrollably, almost like spasm after spasm shaking his body as he heard his mother screaming and screaming and screaming. He shivered so hard that he tumbled over the side of the stands and started to fall.

He heard only his mothers shrieks of ‘Harry! Harry!’ that he barely noticed that they were being echoed by a near hysterical Hermione at the top of the stands. All he remembered was two pairs of rough, big Quidditch hands grabbing his arms and seeing a big silver gust of wind float past him before a cloud of a darker shade rose up and covered his eyes.

After that, he heard no more.