A Promise Kept - Chapter 13 - Fresh Endeavours

Fresh Endeavours

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Harry asked as he took his seat in the carriage.

The others were already waiting for him, and each of them were string at him in a mixture of curiosity and expectation, but it was Olivia who rolled her eyes irritably.

“The last time I saw you, you were being taken out of the common room by Fontaine and Clarke,” she reminded him. “What happened, Harry?”

“Are the rumours true?” Wendell broke in.

“That depends on the rumours,” Harry answered with a shrug.

“Well, some people are saying that you tried to kill Maxwell and David Van Droombeeld before turning into a bat and flying away.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Olivia huffed. “Harry can’t turn into a bat.”

“But you believe I would try to kill the idiots?”

The girl tutted at him.

“Well, both of them were in the medical wing,” Maggie interjected. “I saw them going in there.”

Harry shook his head.

“I didn’t try to kill them, and I didn’t turn into a bat.”

“Then what happened?”

Harry shrugged once more.

“They tried to threaten me, and I punched one of them. That’s all.”

“And then their mother and father arrived at the school,” Isabelle added. “Both of them are Pukwudgies.”

“Pussies, more like,” Harry muttered.

“Why would they threaten you?” Marisa asked.

“Because they have a death wish,” Wendell snorted.

“They don’t like that I have spoken to their sister a few times,” Harry explained.

“Sabine? I wouldn’t mind talking to her myself,” Wendell said with a grin, grimacing as Olivia punched him on the arm. “What, she’s hot.”

“Shut up, Wendell,” Harry sighed. “They cornered me, I punched one of them, and they left. That’s it, and Fontaine just let me go home a day early after their parents kicked up a fuss. Oh, and I have a week of detention to serve.”

The rumours had not stopped with his friends.

Since he’d returned to Ilvermorny almost a week ago now, he’d heard all sorts of ridiculous speculations as to what had happened between him and the Van Droombeeld brothers, who were remaining silent on the matter themselves.

Harry suspected it had been a rather embarrassing affair for the siblings and they would rather allow the rumour mill to turn than correct the others with the truth.

Nonetheless, Harry chose to ignore the whispers of his peers, and even the looks of concern he was met with, and the nickname Adrian had given him.

He shook his head irritably as he continued scrubbing the bathroom floor, grateful that it would be his last evening with the surly creature he’d been assigned to for the week.

“Not clean enough,” Sid criticised. “Scrub harder.”

He left the room without another word, and Harry cursed under his breath.

He’d come to hate the Pukwudgie that served as the school caretaker and could think of no other who could be so cantankerous and hostile towards the students.

It wasn’t just Harry who was subjected to Sid’s less than pleasant demeanour. As a rule, he avoided the students, but when any happened upon him whilst he was carrying out his duties, he did not hide his feelings about them.

He’d reduced many to tears and seemed to take some considerable enjoyment from doing so.

Hary wouldn’t cry.

It would take more than a miserable, unhappy creature to elicit such a response. No, Harry was more likely to strangle Sid with his bare, aching hands than he was to resort to tears.

“Times up, Potter. Get out of here!”

He didn’t need telling twice, and he hurriedly left the bathroom so that he might shower away the final vestiges of his penance served and get back to training the following evening.

Adams would be pleased, at least, and Harry certainly preferred being atop his broom than scrubbing toilets with only a stiff brush, some warm water, and a lot of elbow grease.

“Ah, look, Sugar is back.”

Harry glared at Adrian as he took a seat by the fire with the others who had been waiting for him to return, and the older boy laughed in response.

“I don’t get it,” Wendell murmured. “Why do you call him Sugar?”

“After Sugar Ray Robinson,” Adrian chuckled. “He was a muggle boxer.”

“Someone named their son Sugar?” Wendell asked confusedly.

“Sugar was his nickname,” Adrian said dismissively. “Potter here is our very own Sugar Ray.”

“Jackass,” Olivia huffed, though she didn’t prevent herself from grinning, and Harry released a deep breath.

He would never live the nickname down, not if Adrian had anything to say about it.

“Come on, Potter, there are so many of us that have wanted to give Maxwell Van Droombeeld the old one-two, but you actually had the balls to do it. You’re a hero around here now.”

Harry could only shake his head in response.

Had he known he’d adopt a new nickname, or what he’d done would cause a stir like it had, he perhaps wouldn’t have bothered acting against the brothers, but he knew had he been intimidated by them, they would’ve taken every opportunity to bully him.

No, he would not allow that, and though he was reaping a different kind of annoyance, he’d rather this than the alternative.

“Shut up, Adrian, and can you take the sign down now? It’s been a week!”

He grinned as proudly now as he had all week when it had been mentioned, but Harry did not appreciate the cartoonish sketch of him standing behind a barred door with the word ‘Free Potter’ painted onto a bedsheet the prefect had hung above one of the fireplaces in the common room.

At first, Adrian had denied placing it and had even staged a facsimile of an investigation to discover who had done so, only for Olivia to come clean when he’d interrogated Wendell in front of the entire house.

Not that it hadn’t been amusing, but Harry was finally glad his punishment was over.

Until the next one inevitably came when he was caught doing something else he shouldn’t be, though, he hoped it did not result in his mother and Sirius being called to the school again.

He did not need another lecture from the woman, or his godfather for that matter, who had not been pleased when Harry had pointed out that he and his father had done much worse things than him at Hogwarts.

Even so, Harry could finally move on from the unpleasant week he’d endured, so long as the Van Droombeeld brothers left him alone; something he wasn’t so certain the duo possessed the intelligence to do.

(Break)

“If I’m going to accept the position, I have some conditions.”

Albus nodded and gestured for the man to continue.

“I will be able to return home at the end of each day. That is not negotiable, Albus. I have responsibilities there, and I need to be nearby for Harry.”

“Of course,” Albus agreed. “Anything else?”

“I want Snape kept away from me as much as possible. You have your reasons to trust him, but I do not and never will. There are no circumstances that will see us get along in any capacity. He willingly served the man that murdered James, who would’ve killed Lily and Harry without a second thought. I do not want him near me.”

Albus nodded readily.

He had expected such and could only imagine the hostility Sirius would have for the man if he were to learn of the entire truth of what had happened all those years ago, how Severus had all but been the catalyst for Tom seeking out the Potter in the first place.

“I am certain the feeling is mutual.”

“Good, that is all for now,” Sirius murmured, offering his hand.

Albus shook it, pleased and relieved that he would finally have a competent professor, one that would not be cajoled or intimidated by Lucius Malfoy.

“Was all well when you were sent for by Professor Fontaine?”

Sirius deflated as he shook his head, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Just Harry being Harry,” he chuckled. “Two older students attempted to threaten him, and he showed them that it wasn’t a good idea. He was given a week of detention for his troubles.”

“Boys will be boys,” Albus sighed. “But he is doing well?”

Sirius snorted as he shook his head.

“The boy is better than we ever were,” he said proudly. “Albus, he’s already doing work he shouldn’t be starting until his fifth year in some subjects. Lily has always done things with him, but he certainly inherited James’s talent in Transfiguration. He’s brilliant, Albus, maybe a little too brilliant for his own good at times.”

Albus smiled sincerely.

“Well, I am sure Minerva would’ve liked to have been teaching him if he is indeed as good as James. It is one of her greatest regrets that he did not stay on to study further with her. Masters in Transfiguration a few and far between. Fortunately, Harry has Thibault Goode as his professor. He is an excellent practitioner, so he is in good hands.”

Sirius nodded as he fastened his cloak.

“Harry will be better,” he declared. “In some ways, he reminds me of you. He just seems to understand magic for what it is, in ways that others never could. I don’t know, he is only twelve, but I never met a twelve-year-old like him when it comes to be so instinctively able. He needs only see something once, and he can just do it. He just needs his body to catch up with his capabilities, and he will be incredible.”

He had left a rather thoughtful Headmaster to ponder the young man he had yet to meet, but Sirius’s words and assessment of the Harry Potter had filled him with both a sense of joy and hope.

For the first time since that Halloween night, Albus was pleased Sirius had done what he had.

Harry appeared to be thriving, and that was all he could ask for given the terrible circumstances that had led to where he found himself now.

Still, it would’ve been nice for harry to have followed in the footsteps of his mother and father by attending Hogwarts for his education.

Not that Ilvermorny was a terrible school. On the contrary, it had produced some excellent witches and wizards since it had been established.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, and Albus felt his expression darken. He’d been expecting the arrival of the man who sought a meeting with him, and he’d arrived exactly when anticipated.

“Come in, Gilderoy,” he called, schooling his features, and doing his utmost to act surprised as his current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor entered the office, clutching a suitcase in one hand, and a large trunk under the other. “Is something wrong?”

Lockhart’s usually kempt hair was in disarray, and a layer of perspiration was visible on his forehead. Nonetheless, he offered the best winning smile he could muster before sighing apologetically.

“You have my deepest apologies, Albus, but something most pressing has come up and I must leave to attend to it.”

“Of course, Gilderoy,” Albus replied. “You will be back by the morning?”

The man winced and shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. There is no telling when I might return. You see, my mother has been taken quite ill in the Caribbean, and as an only son, I must be there for her.”

“Then go, my friend, and do pass on my best wishes,” Albus urged. “I must say, it is such a shame to lose a man of your calibre, but I understand.”

Lockhart nodded before hurrying from the office, and Albus dropped the false smile he had been sporting.

He had not expected the man to come clean about his transgressions, but using the mother that he knew was in good health in her home in Oxford was most distasteful indeed.

Still, he did not expect anything less from Gilderoy Lockhart, and now, he could finally set his own plan into motion, grateful he had acted, even if his own method was not the most pleasant approach he could’ve taken.

One letter, a forged one at that, was all it had taken to see Gilderoy run for the hills.

Albus only wished he could have witnessed the man read the contents for himself, and as he retrieved the copy he had kept for future reference should he need it, he nodded satisfactorily as he re-read his own words.

Lockhart,

How dare you take credit for mine and the efforts of others to embellish your reputation. You think yourself gifted with memory charms, but I write to tell you that I remember all that happened and what you did to me.

It is an insult and I intend on ensuring justice is served for me, and all others you have used to gather the wealth you have obtained.

This is not the last you will hear from me.

I spit on you and yours,

Alexandru Baciu

It had been a short missive but had evidently frightened Lockhart enough that he was fleeing Hogwarts immediately, which meant Albus could finally install someone worthy of the position.

Oh, it would certainly ruffle a few feathers, but there were few who would dare argue with Sirius Black, especially now that he was throwing his weight around the Ministry of Magic, just as his grandfather and many others that came before him had.

Usually, Albus would be troubled by one garnering such a reputation for himself, and though Sirius could often be rash and impulsive, he had the very best of hearts and was unlike the others who sought such power.

With that in mind, he sent off a patronus, hopeful the man would arrive in only a matter of moments.

(Break)

He watched as Harry grumpily pushed his food around his plate whilst Lily pointedly ignored the silent plea to be left off his punishment. Sirius understood harry needed to learn that he couldn’t just punch anyone, even if they did deserve it, and the Van Droombeeld brothers certainly did.

Especially if they conducted themselves the same way their father did.

Sirius had items in the Black family vault belonging to his ancestors, dating back to long before the United States of America was a country, so, he didn’t know where Irwin Van Droombeeld got off thinking he could look down on him.

He snorted at the thought, realising he sounded much like his grandfather had.

“What are you laughing at?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Nothing,” Sirius denied, his gaze shifting towards the window huge shadow passed by. “Norbert is back.”

The dragon had taken to coming closer to the house these past few days, and Sirius had even seen him mixing with the herds of griffins, thestrals, and hippogriffs, that he would undoubtedly eat if in the wild.

Had he been tamed?

No, such a thought was ridiculous.

Norbert may have been hatched by Hagrid and spent much of his life around humans to some degree, but no dragon could truly be tamed. It was not in their nature to comply, and certainly not with something it could devour in a single bite.

“What was that?” Lily asked curiously as something heavy thudded to the ground just outside the door.

Sirius shrugged and stood to open it, only to find an enormous, dead fish that had almost been bitten in two.

“It’s a gift,” Harry chuckled as he joined him. “It’s Norbert’s way of saying thank you.”

The dragon flying above roared in response and unleashed a gout of flame, turning a few acrobatics in the air before flying back towards his cave.

“I’d rather he didn’t drop dead fish at the door,” Lily sighed.

“At least a fish is easy to move,” Harry pointed out. “He could’ve dropped a cow instead.”

Sirius would not pretend to understand the way a dragon thought, but more than once, Norbert had repeated the feat, dropping a fish, and looking on until Harry had acknowledged the gift.

It was an odd spectacle, and somehow, Harry had made a friend of the behemoth.

That in itself was as much a worrying thought as it was comforting.

Norbert liked Harry and would likely protect him should the need arise; something Sirius hoped would not come to pass.

Thankfully, the boy had not attempted to push his boundaries with the dragon by attempting to fly him, but Sirius knew it was only a matter of time.

Harry would one day get the idea, and as he had with Aurelius, sneak off to do it.

He shook his head at the thought.

“Something bothering you?” Lily asked.

“No,” he denied, eyeing the book the woman was reading.

It was in a foreign language, but judging by the picture on the cover, it was an old Charms book.

Since Harry had begun attending Ilvermorny, Lily had been hard at work herself, reading and learning new Charms and Potions, just as she had been wont to do when they’d been at school together.

Knowing that Harry was growing up wasn’t easy for either of them, but Sirius could see how difficult it was for her in particular.

She had dedicated her life to raising her son, to giving him every opportunity possible, at the expense of her own passion. Not that she would see it in such a way.

Harry was everything to Lily, but now, she seemed to be finding herself once more, and it pleased Sirius to see it.

Lily was a brilliant witch, perhaps the most exceptional he had ever met, and she was pursuing those dreams she had left behind so many years ago.

“Bloody hell!” he cursed, almost toppling out of his chair as an ethereal phoenix appeared in front of him and spoke in the voice of Albus Dumbledore.

“Your post is waiting for you, Sirius. Gilderoy has decided to leave the castle.”

Sirius nodded in response as he stood and summoned his coat.

“Good Luck, Professor Black,” Lily said with a grin.

Sirius grimaced at the title.

“Ol’ Prongs would be laughing his arse off right now, wouldn’t he?”

“He would never have let you live it down, but he would be proud of you. You know that.”

Sirius returned the warm smile of the woman as he nodded.

“Then I’d better not let him down, the bloody git,” he sighed, checking that all the security measures around the property were in place before activating his portkey, ready to start a new adventure for himself.

(Break)

“Your work continues to be exemplary, Harry,” Professor Goode praised with a smile. “You have my apologies if I seem excited. It is rare to meet someone with such a talent for Transfiguration. Many argue that is the most difficult of practical magics to master, you know.”

“My mother says it is,” Harry replied. “She said for all of his failings in Potions, my father more than made up for it doing this. Did you know that he became an Animagus at the age of fourteen?”

“He did?”

Hary nodded proudly.

He wasn’t merely boasting of his father’s achievements, nor giving away a deep, dark family secret. He would not divulge that he taught both Sirius and Wormtail how to do it too only a year later, but he felt that James Potter deserved some recognition for what he had managed to do at such a young age.”

“That truly is exceptional. He must’ve been quite the budding master to achieve it. I have never heard of any other, but then again, it is not something you advertise to the world,” Goode added with a conspiratorial chuckle.

“You’re an Animagus.”

“I doubt you would find few Masters in the field that aren’t, Harry. It is something of a rite of passage, an exceedingly complex piece of magic that can take years to achieve. It is a personal journey for most of us, an intimate part of our nature that is only shared with those we trust most. Might I ask what form your father took? Purely for my own curiosity, of course. What you tell me will go no further than us.”

Harry saw no reason to hide it.

For all of his brilliance, James Potter was no. longer here, and if this was the only way to celebrate the man and what he had accomplished, Harry would cling to and cherish it.

“A stag,” he answered.

“I am not surprised,” Goode said with a sincere smile. “It takes the elegance of a stag to be skilled in Transfiguration, the agility to be as excellent a flier as I hear your father was, and protective of a herd, as he showed when it mattered most for you and your mother. A fitting creature indeed,” he finished with a respectful bow. “Tell me, Harry, what creature do you think you would be?”

Harry frowned as he pondered the question.

“I have no idea.”

Goode chuckled.

“It takes considerable knowledge of your true self, and a self-awareness to even begin considering the hundreds of options. I know a man who believed he would be a lion but turned out to be a possum. He was not quite able to face such honesty.”

Harry snorted amusedly.

“I could well be a pigeon.”

Professor Goode grinned.

“Perhaps, but I do not think you give yourself enough credit. You have courage, Harry, that I know to be true.”

“Because I punched Maxwell Van Droombeeld?”

“Partly for that, but I have seen you atop your broom. It takes considerable courage, despite talent, to perform he way you do. Now, this might seem a little strange, but that is what I want you to do for your assignment this week. I want you to truly consider what traits you embody, both strengths and weaknesses. Really try to look inwardly at yourself and see who truly are. You do not need to hand it in to me. Like I said, this is a deeply personal journey, but I want you to keep it and revisit it from time to time.”

“Are you going to teach me how to be an Animagus?”

“Perhaps,” Professor Goode replied. “We will see how you progress with everything else I set you over the next year or so. If you continue as you are, I see no reason not to consider it. Now, on your way. Don’t you have Quodpot training?”

Harry nodded as he packed away his things.

“Thank you, Professor,” he offered appreciatively.

“Do not thank me yet, Harry. There is much for us to do before we truly begin.”

Harry nodded once more as he left the room, excited by the prospect of following in his father’s footsteps, though the same could not be said for the impending conversation he would be sharing with a certain girl he spotted seemingly waiting for him at the end of the corridor

Sabine was leaning against the wall, staring out of one of the large windows at the grounds below.

“You know, your brothers won’t be happy if they know you are here.”

Sabine gasped at the intrusion of his voice.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she whispered. “If I would’ve known…”

Harry waved her off.

“It’s fine. I don’t blame you for it. Did you get a hard time from your parents?”

“Not so much, but my father was not pleased. My brothers admitted they came looking for you and started it, but only because my mother has a way of getting the truth out of any of us. She was furious with them, and said they were lucky that they had not ignited a feud between our families.”

Harry grimaced at the thought.

“That would not be good for any of us. Sirius is, well, he is the Lord Black. The family hasn’t survived so long without being able to handle themselves. Believe me, more than a few have tried to put an end to them. Not even Grindelwald could do that.”

Sabine nodded gravely.

“I know,” she murmured as she reached into her pocket and removed a package. “I wanted to give this to you before we left for Christmas, but I didn’t get the chance. Anyway, it might be interesting to sneak around to see you once in a while.”

She placed the package in his hand before kissing him on the cheek, offering him a mischievous grin before disappearing into the adjoining corridor.

Harry could only shake his head.

The girl would undoubtedly be the cause of much trouble in her life, but he could not deny that he enjoyed her company.

He had not believed for one moment that she was responsible for what her brothers had done, and as he opened the present, he smiled as he removed a pair of high quality, leather Quodpot gloves that would ensure his fingers would not be blown off if he wasn’t quick enough at getting rid of the volatile ball.

It was a thoughtful gift, and his smile only widened as he removed the note attached to one of them.

Good luck, Harry! I know you will be brilliant.

(Break)

“I cannot thank you enough for doing this, Sirius, The students will benefit greatly from your teachings.”

He had not felt any nervousness about taking the post, until now.

Being a Professor at Hogwarts was an incredible responsibility, and all eyes would be on him, waiting for Sirius to make only a single mistake before the circling vultures would descend upon him.

“That remains to be seen,” he murmured.

Albus offered him an encouraging smile.

“All will be well, but there is something else I must discuss with you know that you are here. You will undoubtedly hear rumours, but I would see you have the truth from me.”

He was no longer smiling, and his expression became rather grave.

“What is it?”

The Headmaster deflated and shook his head in a mixture of tiredness and frustration.

“On Halloween last year, there was an incident that saw Argus’s cat left in a state of petrification. On the wall, where she found, written in blood was a message declaring that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened, and that enemies of the heir need to be aware.”

Sirius frowned.

“Petrification? Could the spell not be traced?”

“It was not a spell that caused it. Are you aware of the legend surrounding the chamber?”

“Vaguely,” Sirius answered. “A hidden room created by Salazar himself that only he knew of that housed a monster.”

“Those are the important parts of the story, which is most concerning if they ring true. After Mrs Norris, two students have been found in a similar state. Pomona is in the process of growing Mandrakes so that a remedy can be brewed, but I fear if something is not done, we may have to consider closing Hogwarts.”

It sounded rather ominous, but it was indeed something that could not be allowed to continue.

“What do you know so far?”

“Very little,” Albus admitted, “but there is only one person alive with the ability to open the chamber, if it does indeed exist.”

“Voldemort.”

Albus nodded darkly.

“He is not in the castle, of that I am certain, but he has found a way to penetrate the defences in a different manner.”

“You just don’t know how.”

“I am afraid such magic is not my expertise, and even Severus is puzzled by it. We must find a way to stop it before the same thing happens as last time.”

“Last time?”

“Around fifty years ago, the chamber was opened when the Dark Lord was a student here. It resulted in the death of a student, and another was expelled for it, even though he was quite plainly innocent. I was just the Transfiguration professor at the time, and since the attacks stopped after the expulsion, the incident was all but forgotten about. The girl who died was a muggleborn, so no uproar occurred. For my own part, I carry immense guilt, but the Minister and Armando seemed content with letting it lie.”

Sirius could only shake his head in response.

“So, Voldemort opened the chamber, and someone else was blamed?”

“That student was apprehended by the Dark Lord himself, and he was even given a commendation for his efforts,” Albus explained disgustedly. “I have attempted to remedy what happened, but the expelled student would rather leave the past where it is.”

“It’s just hard to imagine Voldemort as a student here.”

“Tom Riddle,” Albus sighed. “A half-blood who would become a monster in his own right.”

“A half-blood? And he has the gall to spout his nonsense about blood purity? I suppose it doesn’t matter, not when you’re a direct descendant of Slytherin.”

“Exactly,” Albus sighed tiredly. “I am at a loss as to what to do. Of course, Hagrid was innocent. Any basic investigation of Myrtle Warren’s body would attest to it, but the Ministry wanted it kept quiet, and accepted Tom’s version of events readily.”

“Hagrid?”

“Was caught with an infant Acromantula,” Albus explained. “The creature was blamed for all of the attacks, and the death of Myrtle.”

“You mean Moaning Myrtle?”

“The very same.”

Sirius shook his head confusedly.

It was a lot to take in, and yet, having the facts he had before him laid out, it made no sense, none whatsoever.

“Acromantula do not petrify with their venom, even as hatchlings.”

“They do not.”

“And if it had been responsible for killing a student, it would be obvious to anyone what had done it. The puncture wounds are distinct enough, and the effects of the venom certainly wouldn’t be missed.”

“If only we had a man like you to defend Rubeus when he’d been just a boy.”

Sirius released a deep breath.

He liked Hagrid.

The man had kept him out of trouble on more than one occasion when he’d been a student and vestured into the forest. The Gamekeeper had not given him detention or even mentioned finding him and the other Marauders in there.

“I will look into it, Albus. Quietly.”

“Thank you, Sirius. I will continue to do so, but until I find some other evidence, there is little else that can be done except hope there will be no other attacks.”

He waited for the students to file in; a class of second year Gryffindor and Slytherins. An odd mix given the hostility that had always existed between the two houses, but Sirius no longer cared for such things.

He was here to impart knowledge; not play favourites with those he would be educating.

He received more than a few questioning looks when they entered, and some outright hostile, particularly from one blond student who could only be the spawn of his cousin and bastard she had married.

Draco was the very image of the man that sired him, with none of the defining features of the Blacks.

“Where is Professor Lockhart?” a bushy-haired Gryffindor asked.

“Attending to an important matter.”

“When will he be back?”

“Never,” Sirius answered simply. “Now, take your seats so we may begin.”

The students did so, and Sirius waited patiently whilst the excited chattering died down. Evidently, Lockhart had only been popular with a few of them, all girls who undoubtedly fawned over the man.

“My name is Professor Black.”

The whispers that followed from the pureblood students were expected. It had been some decades since a Black had been a member of staff here, and Sirius suspected the tenure had not ended well.

“As in Lord Sirius Black?” a blonde girl garbed in Slytherin robes asked.

“The very same. Now, let us proceed, shall we?”

The novelty of who he was would wear off soon enough.

It was no secret that he was the Lord Black, nor that it was him, who according to the Ministry of Magic, was harbouring Harry Potter, who those within the room had perhaps expected to have as a classmate.

Even so, Sirius was not here for any other reason than to teach, though that had changed since he’d arrived only a matter of hours prior.

If the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, he would get to the truth of the matter.

(Break)

Dear Harry,

It won’t be so long before we have to choose our electives to begin in our third year, and I am struggling to decide which ones to even consider.

I think I would enjoy Enchanting, but I would like to study Ancient Runes and maybe Arithmancy, even if it has made Fleur cry more than once this year whilst preparing for her OWLs.

What do you think are good options?

Classes are going as well as can be expected, and I’m certain that my magic is only growing stronger, but I’m worried about my maturity coming in, as always.

Love,

Gabrielle

He folded away the piece of parchment and placed it back in the envelope it had arrived in before penning a reply. Although she was trying to come across as though she was happy, Harry wasn’t convinced.

Gabrielle was having a much harder time at school this year, and he expected it would only get worse for her, just as it had her older sister, who was now in her fifth year at Beauxbatons.

It saddened him to think of the girl struggling just because of what she was, and he shook his head as he took his leave of the common room, pondering how he might just be able to help her.

(Break)

“No signs of physical harm,” Sirius murmured as he read the cause of death of Myrtle Warren.

Given his position on the Wizengamot, it had not been difficult to obtain the Healer’s report on the girl from the Ministry archives, but having done so, he only had more questions than he did answers.

An Acromantula certainly couldn’t kill someone without administering its venom, and Sirius did not buy that the heart of a fifteen-year-old witch would stop at the sight of one.

Myrtle studied Care of Magical Creatures, so she would’ve had experience in dealing with some perhaps even more dangerous than an infant spider.

No, something was very wrong with the entire incident, and although he had not believed for a moment that Hagrid was involved, Sirius was convinced there was much more to it than even Dumbledore had considered, especially given that the Chamber had been reopened fifty years after the fact.

Of course, he would speak to Myrtle momentarily, but one of his greatest tools was within the castle.

He just needed to get it back.

“What do you want?” Filch asked as he opened the door to his office. “Oh, it’s you, Black. How can I help you?”

“Do you make a habit of disposing of the things you confiscate?”

The man frowned.

“I have every last thing I have ever taken from the brats,” he answered with a grin. “Just in case they are ever needed.”

“So, even all of the things you took from me when I was at school?”

Filch frowned before nodding, and Sirius did his utmost to hide his excitement.

“Why?”

“One of the things was an old piece of parchment. You thought I had cursed it.”

Filch scratched his chin before nodding and slamming the door.

He returned a moment later looking rather perplexed and angry.

“it’s not here.”

“It’s not?”

“No, one of the little brats must’ve taken it!”

Sirius did not wish to ponder how or why someone would take an innocuous, faded bit of parchment, but it was important he got it back.

“Is anything else missing?”

Filch slammed the door once more, and it was closer to twenty minutes later that he opened it, clutching what appeared to be an inventory of every item he had taken over the years.

“There are several things missing,” he said unhappily, “but they all have something in common.”

“They do?”

Filch’s nostrils flared.

“They all belonged to the Weasley twins. I’ll hang the little bastards up by their thumbs and have them whipped for days!”

Sirius held up a hand to calm the man.

“Allow me to deal with them, Mr Filch. I will ensure they are suitably punished.”

The caretaker nodded solemnly before slamming the door once more, and Sirius idly wondered just if the mischievous redheads had managed to figure the map out, or if they had merely discarded it.

He would rather the former over the latter, because the map could prove to be invaluable, after all.