A Promise Kept - Chapter 19 - Mentors

Mentors

When she thought back to the very first moment she had waved goodbye to Harry as he’d boarded the carriage for his first year of school, it was a very different boy to the one sitting in front of her now.

It was as though whenever she saw him now, he’d changed, had grown, and was becoming less the little infant she’d bounced on her knee and comforted when the nightmares of what had happened had plagued him.

Harry was a teenager now, his shoulders broader, his voice already deeper, and as he continued reading an article on Charms as he ate an apple, Lily could not help but lament on the days he’d needed her more.

She smiled sadly as he turned the page, and he looked up at her from it concernedly.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Lily shook her head.

“No, just me realising how different things are now.”

“Ah, you mean that you’re no longer having to wipe my…”

“Don’t finish that sentence!” Lily warned.

“Nose,” Harry returned with a grin, the very same one his father had shown when he knew he was getting a rise out of her.

Lily narrowed her eyes at him, but his smile remained firmly in place.

“How are you finding your lessons with Filius?” she asked curiously.

It was a topic she had been avoiding, not because she wasn’t interested or even pleased her son was receiving such brilliant tuition, but because of what it was he was pursuing with the assistance of her former professor.

“Hard,” Harry snorted. “Flitwick is brilliant, but he’s a taskmaster. Why haven’t you been to see him?”

Lily was taken aback by the question. She’d considered it over the years, had really wished to see the man again if only to share a cup of tea as they had several times when she’d been at school, but with how things had been for them, she’d not done so.

Now, however, she had no excuse, but still, the thought of setting foot in Britain filled her with a sense of discomfort she could not shift.

She’d not even returned to visit Petunia over the years, but then again, it was not as though she was likely to be welcomed warmly. The woman had always been rather bitter about Lily attending Hogwarts and had only become more so by the time she’d graduated.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said dismissively, “but I really think you should. I know he would appreciate it as much as you. Just write to him and arrange it when you’re ready.”

That had been the last time he had mentioned it during the Christmas break, and eventually, Lily had run out of excuses not to as he’d urged.

She had written to Filius, had asked if she could visit him, and the man had readily agreed.

Lily took in her appearance in the mirror.

By muggle standards, she would only appear to be in her mid-twenties at most, a miracle given the stressful life she’d lived these past years, but despite still appearing youthful, she was not the seventeen-year-old girl that had left Hogwarts some fifteen years prior.

No, she was a woman grown, a widow since the age of twenty-one, and a mother to a teenage boy that would not remain so for much longer.

Harry was growing up too quickly, already in his third year at Ilvermorny, and Lily was beginning to feel that she was stagnating, that her son did not need her as much as she once had and perhaps wouldn’t at all one day.

The thought saddened her.

She had no desire to date another man, and certainly not marry or have more children.

James would not like her to be lonely, but one marriage was more than enough for her, even if it had been cut tragically short.

Adjusting her hair for a final time, she removed the portkey Sirius had provided for her and released a deep breath. She had not been to Britain since they had buried James, so this was a significant step for her.

Still, if all went well, perhaps it could become a regular thing. She had missed Filius, and there were others she would like to catch up with if given the opportunity.

With that in mind, she activated the portkey, nervous, but excited to see her former professor again whom she had once shared a close bond with.

(Break)

Filius was not convinced that re-establishing the Triwizard Tournament was a good idea, but he could not deny that he was quite enthralled by the idea of watching the competition unfold.

He’d always been drawn to such things, which was why he found himself as a duellist during his younger years. It certainly helped that he was talented enough to make quite the lucrative living from it, but it had never been about the gold for Filius.

No, it was the heat of battle that drew him to it, the adrenalin, the thrill that he could both win and lose at any given moment.

He smiled fondly at the plethora of memories he’d accumulated, the several scars he bore serving to remind him of those days, and where it had led him in life.

As incredible as his duelling career had been, he found teaching to be equally satisfying, especially when he came across a student as dedicated to his passion as he had been.

Lily Evans.

The girl had been nothing short of a prodigy when it came to the art of Charms. She understood the magic like so few others, and Filius had watched and coached her through her time at Hogwarts, often marvelling at her sheer brilliance, so much so that he’d offered to take her on as an apprentice.

Fate, however, had other ideas.

With the war raging on, she had opted to join those opposing the prevailing Dark Lord and his forces, and everything else that had come after had led her down a different path.

Filius certainly did not begrudge her.

Lily had done what she believed in, and though she had suffered greatly, she was raising a boy who was proving to be just as talented, and just as dedicated to what he was passionate about as her.

Harry was undeniably different.

Oh, there were undeniable similarities, but he lacked the same curious innocence his mother had possessed as a girl. He had never been granted the opportunity to be such, and it showed.

The boy was a warrior through and through, born into unfortunate circumstances, losing a father who had died to protect him and his mother, but was rising from those ashes quite spectacularly.

No, Harry was not like Lily. He was driven by something else entirely, something quite raw, and yet, he seemed to be able to harness whatever fire it was that burned within him in a way he could use it so effectively.

Filius ran a finger down the length of the scar the boy had given him.

He may have gotten older, and even a little out of practice, but for one so young and inexperienced to land such a blow against him was quite something.

Harry did not understand the significance of his achievement, but Filius was certain that one day, he would.

He continued writing as the fireplace flared into life, unsurprised and pleased for the very boy of his thoughts to arrive at their usual, scheduled time.

With a nod, Filius stood and drew his wand.

“Remember, I said it will only get harder from here.”

Harry said nothing in response, and the steely glint of determination was all Filius needed to see. The boy had not been deterred by how he’d been pushed thus far.

Whether or not that would remain unwaveringly was to be seen, but the Charms professor could not help but think that no matter what he did short of killing him, Harry James Potter would return, a thought that brought a smile to his lips.

Their work had indeed continued these past months, and time and again, Lily’s son was proving to be just as resilient, just as resourceful, and his skill was truly growing into something quite exceptional.

Of course, it would not happen overnight, but he was on the right path and continued to exceed the expectations and overcome the barriers placed in front of him.

This evening, however, was not about his ongoing work with Harry, but a long-awaited visit from a woman, then girl, who had impressed Filius in his earlier days of teaching.

Picking up the letter he’d received from her, he once again read the familiar scrawl.

Filius,

It has been many years since I have come to Britain, but I would love to visit you.

Your letters since leaving Britain have always been welcome, and I look forward to each, as I always have. If it is amenable with you, I will arrive at ten pm (your time) this coming Friday.

Lily Potter

He had immediately agreed, and as the hour drew nearer, there was no nervousness.

Filius had hoped he would see her again, would be able to sit down with the girl he’d hoped to continue working with beyond her usual years at Hogwarts, and simply speak.

They’d often done it when she’d been a student here. The girl had seen him as a confidant, someone she could share her problems with when needed, but also as a mentor to discuss magic with.

It was during these times Filius realised just how brilliant her mind was when Lily had only been a second year. From then, he had watched her closely, and just like her son was doing now, she had gone way beyond any expectations he had of her.

It was the fireplace flaring into life that pulled him from his thoughts, and he was greeted by the familiar red hair and green eyes she had been known for as a girl. Now, however, Lily Potter was a woman, and Filius stood immediately to greet her.

“Hello, Professor.”

It was as though no time had passed at all, and he smiled warmly in response.

“Mrs Potter,” he returned in kind.

Lily quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I told you when I first got married that you never had to change the way you spoke to me. I never cared about propriety, and nor did James, unless he was dealing with people he didn’t like.”

Filius chuckled and held up a placating hand.

“And when you graduated, I told you to call me by my given name. Shall we try that again?”

The woman smirked amusedly.

“Hello, Filius.”

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Lily,” the Charms professor replied, his smile widening. “You know, now that I’ve seen you, I see more of you in Harry than I thought.”

“I hope he has been behaving,” Lily sighed, her eyes alight with a fondness that only a mother could have for her son.

“For the most part,” Filius assured her. “I’m still not sure if I appreciate the Christmas gift,” he added, nodding towards the stool he kept in the corner of his office.

Lily frowned as she inspected it, huffing irritably when she came upon the note.

“He is too bold…”

“But brilliant, maybe as brilliant as you,” Filius broke in. “The spell work is flawless, and I like to think the note is Harry’s way of showing his affection.”

Lily nodded.

“It is,” she murmured. “Just like James, if he is comfortable mocking you, that means he likes and respects you, unless he doesn’t. No, this isn’t that. This is Harry just being Harry.”

“I never said I didn’t see his father in him,” Filius chuckled. “Oh, those were trying days when James Potter roamed these halls, but I must say, I miss them. As much of a nuisance as he was, the world is certainly worse off without him, but, and Minerva certainly agrees, his son take after him in so many ways, no less in his looks.”

“Minerva has met him?”

Filius nodded.

“I think she was quite overwhelmed by it but pleased. Even now I notice her peering round the door from time to time when Harry is here.”

Lily smiled at the thought.

Minerva had always been fond of James, despite him spending more time in her office than any other for his misdeeds.

“And how is Harry doing?” she asked cautiously.

Filis could only shake his head in response.

“My dear, he is going to be exceptional.”

(Break)

It had always been Sirius who was giddy about Christmas. The man loved the holiday, and for the most part, his joy was quite infectious. Harry wasn’t sure if his godfather was overcompensating for the absence of his father, or that he felt he needed to get himself into the spirit of the season because Lily Potter did not seem to share the same enthusiasm.

It wasn’t until Harry had been around nine years old that he’d learned Christmas Day had been when his father had proposed to his mother, and now, he understood it.

Christmas was a bittersweet time of the year for her, and yet, she’d always done her utmost to not let what had happened sour the day.

Not that it would.

Harry had often wondered what Christmas would’ve been like if his father was with them, but such thoughts would never be, not in the way he had wished.

“Come on, open it!” Sirius said excitedly, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Was he like this at school?” Harry asked the werewolf that had joined them.

Meeting Remus Lupin had not been something he’d expected. Of course, the man had featured in many of Sirius’s stories of his time at school, but Harry understood the two of them had fallen out after the werewolf had learned that he and his mother had been brought here.

Not that he’d pried into the matter. It was none of his business after all, and it had been nice to hear a refreshing take on those same stories from another perspective.

Remus had proven to be the most sensible of the Marauders, though how sensible any would-be prankster could be, Harry didn’t know. Regardless, in a way, it was like having another part of his father with him, and he was not going to turn it away, not when he had so little.

“Sirius has always been this way,” Remus sighed. “I wish I could say you get used to it, but you never do.”

“That’s not true!” Sirius protested.

Harry rolled his eyes at the man, though they widened as the gift rolled into his lap.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered.

The Firebolt was the latest broom to be released onto the market, and the furore it had caused was like no other. It was fifty percent faster than the already swift Nimbus 2001, and according to the professionals that had tested it, could turn on a galleon.

Harry took a moment to marvel at the broom, running his finger down the length of dark wood, and across the gold lettering.

“My Dad’s number,” he murmured, tracing the number seven inlaid in the handle.

“I requested it,” Sirius spoke, a sad smile gracing his lips.

Harry shook his head.

“How expensive was this thing?”

“You don’t want to know,” his godfather snorted, “but if playing Quodpot or Quidditch is in your future, you should have the very best things you can.”

Harry was not considering a career in either, and in a way, it felt as though the broom would be wasted on him, but he did love to fly, at the very least. He would ensure such an incredible thing would not be so.

He chuckled as he caught sight of his mother’s expression.

She was not pleased by the gift, and Sirius knew it, which was why he was avoiding the glare of the woman.

“Thank you, Sirius,” Harry said appreciatively.

A part of him could not ignore that he believed the broom was brought for him so that he might forget about becoming a Cursebreaker or Hit-Wizard, but Harry did not believe Sirius would do such a thing.

No, his mother might, but not Sirius.

“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you take it for a test ride.”

“Don’t you want the first turn?”

Sirius held up his hands and shook his head.

“I can fly well enough, but not even half as good as you. I’d probably kill myself on that thing.”

Harry’s mother’s expression only darkened, but Harry only felt a sense of excitement wash over him, and he did not miss the trio following him as he hurried towards the back door.

He wasted no time in kicking off from the ground, regretting how vigorously he had done so.

It felt as though he’d left behind most of his organs as he rocketed vertically, and it took several moments to become accustomed to the breakneck speed, weight and handling of the broom.

It was incredible.

Harry had never imagined a broom could be so responsive, so fast, and yet, feel so stable whilst he was riding it, but that did not mean the Firebolt was not an exceedingly dangerous thing to be atop of.

One wrong move could see the rider plummeting towards the ground.

Trying not to focus on that possibility, he took a few turns around the land belonging to the Blacks before plunging into a deep dive, righting himself and landing by his pale mother and wide-eyed godfather.

“It’s bloody brilliant!” he declared.

Sirius could only shake his head in response, and his mother truly appeared as though she had seen a ghost.

“Maybe we should have breakfast,” Sirius suggested, eyeing the Firebolt warily, likely regretting his decision to buy one for his thirteen-year-old godson, who was already fearless enough on a much slower broom.

He had spent hours atop his new broom, simply enjoying flying something so incredible. Although he was no expert in how they were made, Harry doubted that even the wizarding world could craft anything better, not anytime soon, at least.

Nonetheless, despite enjoying his time wth the Firebolt, his return to school had come quickly, and since doing so, his workload had only increased over the intervening months.

His standard electives came with the addendum of considerable homework. Especially Runes and Arithmancy, with the latter proving to be the most complex of his chosen subjects.

Those along with how hard Professors Clarke, Day, and Goode continued to push him was more than enough to tire him, but working with Flitwick, Fontaine, and Reg left him with only enough time to train with the rest of the Quodpot team and sleep just enough.

Harry was exhausted and pleased that the end of the school year was quickly approaching.

Still, with each passing day, he felt himself growing better, faster, and stronger under the strain and tutelage.

“Only a few more weeks,” he murmured, gathering his things to shower before beginning another long day of his education.

Not that he was ungrateful.

Harry knew there were several people investing much time in him, people who had expectations he intended to meet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking forward to a longer, much-needed break away from such a rigorous structure.

(Break)

Occupying the unable body of an infant was as frustrating as it was demeaning, but the Dark Lord knew doing so was necessary if he was to regain a functional vessel of his own in the future.

Even so, relying on others so needily was something he would never relish, and he vowed to never do so when he regained an able body.

With the help of his two odd companions, he would do just that, even if one of them was a snivelling coward.

Lord Voldemort had not expected he would see Peter Pettigrew again, had even doubted the man had survived the aftermath of the war, yet somehow, as ever, he had, and even searched for his master, though not out of sheer loyalty.

No, the rat had done so out of fear, fear that after all these years, he truly found himself the hunted.

Flashback

Albania was the source of both good and bad memories for the Dark Lord. As a young, recent graduate from Hogwarts, it had been where he’d located the coveted diadem that had been created by Rowena Ravenclaw, which now housed a precious part of his soul.

Equally, given the many months he had spent here, it had been the only place he could think to come when his most fortunate moment had befallen him more than a decade ago.

The very thought made him grimace at his own foolishness, and the Dark Lord had certainly learned his lesson.

When he inevitably gained a new body for himself, Harry Potter would be at the very top of the list of those he would kill, once more blanketing Britain in a sense of hopeless fear.

Knowing what no other possibly could, beside the damned fool of a Headmaster, he smiled to himself, only to feel a sense of panic set in as he became aware of a magical presence that was not his own, nor did it belong to Quirinus.

“Stop!” he whispered.

“What is it, Master?” Quirrell asked.

“There is a wizard nearby.”

Quirinus immediately drew his wand, and though he as somewhat weakened by having hosted him for so long, he was no less willing to protect him when needed.

“Where?” the man asked.

“He is right behind us.”

Before the man pursuing them could react, Quirrell whipped round and stunned him, and the Dark Lord gazed upon the rotund man from within the stroller he was being pushed in.

Although he somehow appeared to be more rat-like in appearance, Lord Voldemort recognised him immediately.

“Wormtail.”

“You know him?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Still, Pettigrew was a useful man to have around. For as cowardly and pathetic as he was, the Dark Lord would not deny that he was most adept when it came to clandestine activities.

Even so, he would not profess that he was pleased to see him again and certainly would not trust him. For now, however, doing so was necessary, and if Pettigrew proved his worth, perhaps he could earn his way into the Dark Lord’s inner circle.

That, however, depended on how much he could be of service.

His duties for the time being were ensuring that the Dark Lord was sustained, that he was fed the elixir containing Nagini’s venom. Beyond that, he would do whatever was required for him, or he would no longer serve any purpose.

“What news, Quirinus?” he asked as the one man he could trust returned to the small cottage they had taken possession of.

It wasn’t as though the old lady that lived here had need of it anymore, not when she was dead.

“Little, my lord. According to chatter around the Ministry of Magic, a delegation from Britain is due to arrive for a meeting with the Department of Magical Cooperation. Along with that, the Quidditch World Cup is set to be going ahead with the final being held in Britain.”

He cared little for Quidditch.

For all of his magical talents, flying atop a broom was not one of them. That was why he had developed his own method of flight.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Wormtail. It seems as though you have another job, after all.”

(Break)

“Now, I want you to pay close attention to this, Harry,” Professor Clarke urged. “Watch the water closely.”

He did so with rapt attention, frowning as the liquid in the glass began churning before becoming an erratic whirlpool under the woman’s machinations.

“You did that without a wand,” he whispered. “Was that elemental magic?”

“I did,” Professor Clarke confirmed, “but no, it is not elemental magic. I am not manipulating the water itself, but my own magic within it.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully as he pondered what he’d seen.

“I see,” he murmured excitedly. “It works well with water, but fire would slowly destroy the magic, and air is almost impossible to control in the same way because you cannot see it. You can’t even feel it the same way as an elemental would.”

“Exactly,” Professor Clarke praised. “The same can be said with earth. It is so very dense and difficult to work with, unless you are a hag, or as you so rightly put it, have a proclivity towards such elemental magic.”

“But elementals are rare.”

“That’s not quite so. There is ae those with an affinity for an element, but from what studies show, how well someone can interact with certain elements is on something of a scale. Some can achieve full control whilst others could barely manage what I can. The difference is, they would be able to do it with any water, not only magical water they had created themselves.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“So, with magical water you have created yourself, you could theoretically use it in a similar way as an elemental?”

“Not as effectively, but you could certainly put it to use in many ways.”

“Even in duelling?”

Professor Clarke for a moment.

“I suppose you could, but you would need to become so very adept at it to a degree that you can focus on whatever you are doing with the water and everything else occupying your mind in the heat of the competition.”

“Interesting,” Harry mused aloud. “Could you show me again?”

“And then your grandfather really lost his temper. There was Gil, screaming at Grindelwald’s men, pissed as a newt, asking them to send women to our trenches,” Reg guffawed. “Charlus didn’t half give him a bollocking for that.”

“I do not think this story is appropriate for a third year, Reg,” Professor Fontaine sighed.

Reg waved him off.

“You know, there was a time you would’ve kept your mouth shut. I miss those days.”

“It’s been many years since I was a rookie Auror.”

“That’s true,” Reg sighed. “Anyway, we weren’t much older than this one when we were fighting the git, and the agreement is, if he can learn what I’m teaching him, I will share stories, even if they aren’t so pleasant.”

Harry smiled appreciatively.

Not only was Reginald Yaxley an excellent teacher when it came to the art of warfare and combat magic, he had been one of his grandfather’s closest friends, and Harry was valuing the time he spent with him.

“Next time, I’ll tell you how Gilbert ended up getting his arse cheek blown off,” the man promised amusedly as he stood. “Take care of yourself, Harry. He’d be damned proud of the young man you are.”

With a nod, he exited the office through the fireplace, and Fontaine shook his head.

“He never changes,” he sighed. “He was one of the very best Aurors I ever worked with, and the most honest of men.”

“Not like the rest of his family.”

“No,” Professor Fontaine agreed, frowning as he eyed Harry speculatively.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Just that you are making astounding progress. Your work ethic is exceptional, and from what your reports indicate, you could comfortably sit your OWLs already, perhaps even your NEWTs in Charms and Transfiguration. Not that you will be pushed to do so, but there is an opportunity I expect Professor Clarke will wish to discuss with you.”

“An opportunity?”

Fontaine nodded.

“Usually, it is reserved for our sixth years who may wish to expand on their experience in the topics they thrive in. Already, you are visiting Hogwarts and working with Filius Flitwick.”

“Who spends six hours a week kicking my arse,” Harry chuckled.

Fontaine smiled knowingly.

“I expected nothing less,” he said amusedly, “but there are programmes we offer to supplement your education further. I think doing this in your sixth would be disruptive, especially if you were, to say, choose to sit your NEWTs early, but given that you are remarkably ahead in your studies, I think it might just be possible to accommodate this experience for you.”

“You have something in mind.”

“I do, but I would like to hear your thoughts.”

“Well, I would quite like to work with Professor McGonagall. My project with Professor Goode will be ongoing for some time, and I am certain she could help me with that, along with my Transfiguration.”

Fontaine nodded.

“Minerva McGonagall is truly exceptional, a once in a generation talent. I cannot say for certain whether or not she will agree, but it is something that can be discussed. Perhaps you can even convince Albus to work with you. I do not think it would take much effort on your part. I will make the arrangements for a meeting.”

Harry nodded before standing.

“There’s something else?”

Fontaine chuckled.

“I was thinking that because you are already working with Filius that you may wish to consider another option for broadening your Charms tuition. Both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons have excellent instructors, the latter more so.”

Harry was certainly not against expanding his horizons when it came to his magic, and he knew that Beauxbatons had one of the very best Charms Mistresses in the world.

“Won’t they want me to have my OWLs?” he asked.

“Usually, yes,” Fontaine replied, “but as educators, they will understand not wanting to push you early. I expect they will wish to assess you, at the very least, but this could be an invaluable experience for you, Harry. Think about it, at least, and good luck in the final tomorrow. I expect there will be many watching.”

“I will,” Harry assured him as he headed towards the door. “Thank you, Professor.”

It was not something he’d expected to be broached with him, but he couldn’t deny that he was intrigued.

It wasn’t as though his education had stagnated.

His work with Goode, Clarke, and Day was still testing him, but it would be interesting to work with others, and it would also offer him the opportunity to assuage one of his other concerns.

Gabrielle.

As much as she tried to reassure him that she was well, she was struggling.

It wouldn’t solve her problem, but perhaps him being able to visit her might just make enough of a difference that she would no longer be so miserable at school.

Still, nothing was decided, and Harry needed to consider his options carefully.

He did wish to work with Professor McGonagall.

He had not missed her checking in on him from time to time, and doing so would fulfil something of the opportunity his father had missed, somewhat.

For now, however, it wasn’t quite his decision to make, but if it could be arranged, these were things he would not pass up.

(Break)

“Nothing good can come of this,” Sirius warned.

“You don’t like the idea?”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, there are too many variables that I do not like, but Albus will do as he wishes.”

“What variables?” Remus asked.

The conversation had gone as well as expected, but eventually, Remus had calmed down enough to be sworn to secrecy about what Sirius had shared with him.

Still, he did not like the idea of the Triwizard Tournament, not one bit.

“Come in,” he called as a knock sounded at the door to his classroom.

The hour was late, and no student should be out of bed, so he found himself quite surprised when Hermione Granger entered the room, her eyes searching it.

“Can I help you, Miss Granger?”

“Oh, I was looking for Professor Lupin. He’s not in his office, and I know he spends a lot of time in here.”

Sirius frowned.

It was a rather feeble excuse, but the girl, though hiding it well, appeared to be rather upset.

“Professor Lupin is indisposed.”

He was currently in his office, but locked in a cage and under the care of the Wolfsbane potion Snape begrudgingly provided him with.

“I forgot it was the full moon,” the girl murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Hermione denied, evidently not aware she had spoken her thoughts aloud.

Sirius deflated.

“Well, if anyone was going to figure out, I’m not surprised it was you. Close the door, Miss Granger.”

“I’m sorry, Professor. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know, because if you had…”

“Professor Lupin would lose his job.”

“Not necessarily,” Sirius replied thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t let that happen. Even so, I am grateful that you have kept it to yourself. Werewolves are not looked upon favourably.”

“Just like muggleborns,” the girl said miserably.

Before Sirius could respond, she burst into tears, and he could see that this was not just a moment of weakness for her. This was months and months of pent-up anger and frustration at the situation she found herself in.

With a shake of his head, Sirius wrapped an arm around her shoulder and allowed her to cry.

Even when she stopped, however, there was no relief from her outburst. She was just as unhappy, just as frustrated.

“Who is bullying you?” Sirius asked.

Hermione shook her head, and Sirius released a deep sigh.

“Malfoy.”

The girl neither confirmed nor denied it, but she didn’t need to. Lucius’s son was notorious for picking on others knowing there were few who would stand up to him.

Most were rightly worriedly about any repercussions, but that didn’t mean the boy should be allowed to get away with it.

“Neville tries to help, but they just gang up on him, and whenever the Weasley twins go after them, Professor Snape gives them a detention.

Sirius could only shake his head, his gaze shifting towards the clock.

“Well, something is going to be done about it,” he murmured. “Come with me, Miss Granger.”

He led her towards the sixth floor, to an office he had spent more time in than he cared to count, and as he knocked, he heard voices coming from within.

Only a moment later, it opened just enough for Sirius to be greeted by the woman he’d come to see, and she seemed to visibly relax.

“Is there something you need, Sirius? I am in the middle of a meeting,” she said pointedly.

“Is that Sirius?”

“Mr Potter, wait…”

Minerva’s warning came too late, and Sirius came face to face with his godson, as did a certain student accompanying him.

“Harry, what are you doing here?”

“Speaking with Professor McGonagall, ah…”

He realised his error, but Hermione appeared to be more confused than anything by the appearance of a boy she was not familiar with being within the castle, let alone in the Deputy Headmistress’s office.

“You’d better come in,” Minerva sighed.

Sirius did so, and Hermione the dumbfounded Hermione followed.

“Mr Potter, this is Miss Granger, a third year Gryffindor student. Miss Granger, this is Mr Potter,” Minerva introduced the two.

“Harry Potter?” Hermione whispered.

“If I’m not, I’m living with his Mum.”

Minerva tutted, and Sirius fought the urge to grin at his godson’s flippant comment. Even so, it served to break the tension, and Hermione even laughed at the quip.

“What brings you here, Professor Black?” Minerva asked pointedly.

Any amusement felt by the girl he had brought here all but evaporated, and Sirius offered an apologetic look.

“Miss Granger is continuing to find herself being victimised by a certain group of Slytherin students. I think it is about time something is done about it.”

Minerva deflated.

“I have raised this with Albus several times, and any detentions I give them are either cancelled by Severus, or he takes it upon himself to supervise them. Regardless, nothing seems to deter them, and you know Albus is rather..”

“Soft,” Sirius huffed. “I’m sorry, but it is no longer good enough. I will not sit by and allow this to continue.”

“Then feel free to take it up with Albus, as I have more times than I can count.”

Sirius shook his head.

Albus was frustrating in many things he did, but it was his lack of action that was the problem now.

“It’s because Lucius still has the governors in his pocket, isn’t it?”

“I expect that is part of it, and after last year…”

Sirius immediately knew what the woman was referring to, and though Harry looked between them questioningly, but remained silent on the matter before his gaze came to rest on the upset girl.

“Malfoy?” he asked. “I expect he has Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson with him.”

“And others,” Hermione replied.

It was not often Harry lost his temper. Oh, he could be hot-headed when it came to certain things, and then his temper was quite biblical, and Sirius could see it begin to surface now.

“Wait, how do you know who Malfoy spends time with?” he asked curiously.

“You don’t think I’ve spent time here and not had a look around, do you?” his godson returned with a grin, though it was not one born from joy. “Professor, if you don’t mind, I think we should revisit our conversation another time. I think I’d maybe like to have another look around the castle, if you don’t mind.”

“Mr Potter, you know you cannot be seen…”

Harry waved her off.

“No one will ever know I was here.”

He left the room before anything else could be said, and Minerva looked towards Sirius questioningly.

“I think in this matter, plausible deniability is for the best. Would you escort Miss Granger back to the common room? I’d better make sure he doesn’t do anything too unpleasant.”

Sirius had no idea what Harry was planning, but the boy was just as creative as he, James and the others had ever been.

Whatever it was would undoubtedly be loud, in public, and at the very least, deeply embarrassing for those that had chosen to bully a muggleborn girl who had so few means to defend herself.