Disclaimer: I don't own the dystopic world of Harry Potter where there are stricter punishments for breaking curfew than there are for bullying.

Chapter 21: Summer Interrupted

Harry looked down at the paper and frowned thoughtfully. Page 3 had an article about the Ministry's latest series of raids. Apparently, in response to an anonymous tip, both Malfoy and Pyrites houses had been among the targets and a large quantity of dark artifacts had been recovered from both. Malfoy had managed to skate by with just a fine, but it looked like Pyrites wasn't going to be so lucky. Harry knew that neither he nor Elizabeth nor their friends had sent in any anonymous tips this time, and there was only one other person besides himself and Hermione who had been present when Draco Malfoy had talked about his father's secret stash of artifacts.

Harry looked up over his paper at the Slytherin table where Mafalda Prewett was sitting with her own newspaper—just in time to see her stand and leave the Great Hall. Harry looked back down at the paper, hunting for the dueling listings, but was interrupted again when Hedwig came zooming down and landed on his shoulder. Harry turned to pet his familiar and saw that a note was tied to her leg; he unwrapped and read it:

Meet me in the Owlery, we have something to discuss. Come alone.

MP

Harry crumpled up the note and stood. So, Mafalda had decided to cash in on the favor that he and Hermione owed her. Idly wondering what it could be, and then dismissing the question as pointless since he was about to find out, Harry started for the exit.

"Wait, where are you going, Harry?" Elizabeth asked, getting to her feet. Something about her seemed…wrong somehow; she looked tired and more subdued than normal.

"I'm taking Hedwig to the Owlery," Harry quickly said. "I think that she thinks I've not been spending enough time with her." It was a handy excuse; Hedwig even gave a little bark and tightened her talons around his shoulders a bit. "Are you alright? You look a bit…peaky."

"I—I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey," Elizabeth replied, her voice also sounding hurried. She glanced over at Neville, then back at Harry. "It's a…girl thing."

Neville instantly looked just as awkward as Harry now felt; he was reminded of when Karen had finally decided to give the two of them 'The Talk'.

"Oh, ah, say no more," Harry said as he held up his hands for a moment, then quickly turned away and walked out of the Great Hall; Hedwig was still clutched tightly to his shoulder.

(*)

Harry was just walking past Professor Slughorn's office on the sixth-floor, on his way to the West Tower where the Owelry was located, when the door to the office was abruptly flung open, startling both him and Hedwig. Harry ducked into a shadowy corner and watched as Molly and Arthur Weasley emerged from within the office, followed by Ginny and Ron. Molly had one of her hands on Ron's earlobe and was berating him:

"—honestly, Ron," Molly said. "How many times have we told you not to trust anything that thinks for itself if you can't see where it keeps it's brain?" The Weasleys disappeared around a corner.

Harry crept closer towards Slughorn's office and began to hear muffled voices coming from within. At least two other people were still in there. Harry poked his head into the doorway.

Unlike Snape's office—which had been in the dungeons near the Potions classrooms and Slytherin common room, little bigger than a water closet, and quite austere in furnishings—Professor Slughorn's office was on the sixth floor, quite roomy, and expensively furnished: in addition to the usual desk and bookshelves, there was also a fireplace, two sofas, a round dinner table with ten chairs and a private balcony.

At the desk, Dumbledore and Slughorn were standing over the diary and speaking; Harry strained his ears to hear them:

"—knew he talked about making them," Slughorn was saying. "But I never imagined that he would actually go through with it."

"How many, Horace," Dumbledore replied. "How many did he talk about making?"

"Six," Slughorn said, looking somewhat resigned.

"Ahh, of course," said Dumbledore. "With six plus himself—seven is a magically powerful number."

"Whatever you are planning to do with this," Slughorn continued. "I want nothing more to with it; I've already told you everything I know."

"Yes, of course, I understand," Dumbledore replied.

Harry didn't have time to wonder what they were talking about as just then felt Hedwig nip his ear, pulled his head back, and donned his invisibility cloak—just in time to spot Lucius Malfoy stomping down the corridor towards the office. Harry took a few steps back, but the elder Malfoy didn't seem to have even noticed him.

Dumbledore and Slughorn emerged from the office and Malfoy stopped right in front of them, looking furious and clutching a long cane that was topped with a silver snake. And cowering behind Malfoy, looking terrified and considerably worse for the wear, was Dobby. The house-elf was holding a dirty rag, he'd apparently been in the middle of shining Malfoy's shoes when his master had left and was now attempting to finish the task.

Another piece of the puzzle suddenly slid into place. Malfoy had to have been involved now, somehow, as otherwise how could Dobby have known to warn him. He began softly creeping towards the door, mindful of his feet because in his haste he'd neglected to silence them.

"Ahh, Lucius," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"So," Lucius Malfoy began, "You have seen fit to return to Hogwarts, despite the terms of your suspension."

"Well," said Dumbledore, "I have spoken with the other ten governors and it seems that in the wake of recent events, they have seen fit to lift my suspension."

"The culprit has been caught, then?" Lucius Malfoy sneered.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "The culprit was the same as last time: Voldemort. But this time, by means of a diary planted on one of our students and assisted by your friend Mr. Pyrites. I trust you have heard by now about his arrest."

Harry finally slipped past them and into the office; he found the diary still on the desk; the diary was no longer completely intact, but instead now looked as though some sharp object had stabbed it and the exposed pages now looked slightly burned. Harry grabbed and headed back towards the door.

"Indeed," Lucius Malfoy said.

"A most clever plan," Dumbledore said, then his voice became a touch colder. "It would be most unfortunate if any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things were to find their way into innocent hands. The consequences would be most…unpleasant."

Lucius Malfoy continued glaring at Dumbledore; from the way that Malfoy's hand twitched, Harry could tell that he was on the verge of drawing his wand. But then—Malfoy turned away.

"Come, Dobby," he said. "We're leaving."

Harry went after Malfoy; once he was sure that Dumbledore was out of sight, Harry took off his invisibility cloak, returning it to his mokeskin pouch, then paused just long enough to remove one of his socks and stuff the diary into it. Then he hurried along and finally caught up with Malfoy near a staircase.

"Ahem, Mister Malfoy," Harry called out. "I believe this is yours." Harry shoved the sock into Malfoy's hands when the older man turned to face him.

"What are you—," Lucius Malfoy ripped off the sock and tossed it aside, then glared at Harry as his free hand fiddled with the top of his cane. "And why would you think that I had anything to do with this? After all, it was Argo Pyrites who has been arrested and charged."

"Yes, and I might have almost bought that this was all his doing, except for one thing: Pyrites told me that you want Elizabeth Black dead. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out why." It certainly put the events of Halloween—specifically Kitty Sharp being somehow forced to attack Elizabeth—into an entirely new light.

"Oh?" Malfoy's eyebrows arched, then his voice became very cold. "Please then, boy, enlighten me."

"Elizabeth currently controls the Black Family fortune; but if she dies, it passes to Draco."

Malfoy's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. "You've a lot nerve, Potter, and one of these days you will come to the same end as your parents."

"Well at least then I'd be in good company," Harry retorted, "Which is more than I can say right now."

Lucius Malfoy's hand tightened into a fist for a moment, then he turned to leave. "Come, Dobby."

But Dobby just stood there, clutching Harry's sock as though it were a priceless treasure. "Master has given Dobby clothes. Lucius Malfoy paused and turned back.

"What?"

"Master threw this sock, and Dobby caught it," the excited house-elf cried. "Dobby is now free!"

Harry smirked and lifted up his robe to show his missing sock. Lucius Malfoy scowled.

"You've lost me my servant!" Lucius Malfoy dropped the diary as he advanced in a rage, drawing his wand from the top of his cane and pointing it at Harry. Hedwig took off flying into the air and Harry drew his own wand.

But then Dobby lunged in between them, hands up. "You will not harm, Harry Potter!"

And with a BANG and a flash of blue light, Lucius Malfoy was flung backwards and down the stairs. He got up and advanced back towards them, only to pause when he saw Dobby still standing there, arms raised.

"You will pay for this one day, Potter, mark my words!" And with that, Lucius Malfoy turned and stormed off.

Dobby turned to Harry, his large eyes beaming and leaking tears. "Harry Potter has freed Dobby. Dobby does not know how he can ever repay him."

"Just promise that you'll never send bludgers after me again," Harry asked.

Dobby grinned, then snapped his fingers and vanished.

Hedwig landed back on Harry's shoulder; Harry returned the diary to Slughorn's office, then resumed his walk to the owelry.

(*)

"What is it, Miss Black?" Madam Pomfrey asked Elizabeth as she entered the infirmary. "If you have come to check on Miss Granger, the draught is still brewing."

"No, no, it's not that," Elizabeth said. "I just—I just need a pain relief potion. And a Pepper-Up too while you're at it."

Pomfrey's eyes narrowed, and when she spoke again her voice had become completely clinical and professional. "What are your exact symptoms?"

"My whole body feels sore, down even into my bones; I feel listless, withdrawn, and tired, even though I got a full night's sleep."

"And when did you first notice these symptoms?"

"Yesterday, after the…confrontation with Argo Pyrites and the…uh…the Heir of Slytherin. I was, uh, I was repeatedly cursed during the event, the curse—it felt like white-hot knives were digging into my skin, no, even worse than that, it felt— I feel so…so wrong."

"This curse," Pomfrey asked, a bit more softly, "was the incantation 'Crucio'?"

"Yes, it was," Elizabeth replied.

Pomfrey inhaled sharply, then sighed. "Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do for you."

"What?" Elizabeth was taken aback. "What do you mean there's nothing you can do; I know that there are potions that can alleviate the symptoms of dark curses."

"There are, but they won't help you; not for this. The curse used on you, the Cruciatus Curse, is one of the Unforgivables. The malady that you are currently suffering from cannot be alleviated by any known potion or spell, that is one reason why the Cruciatus is classified as Unforgivable. Time and bedrest will be your remedies, I'm afraid."

"Couldn't you at least give me a Pepper-Up Potion?" Elizabeth asked. "I feel like I'm about to fall asleep on my feet."

"I'm sorry, but Pepper-Up won't help you either. Fatigue like that is another common after-effect of the Cruciatus Curse."

Elizabeth sighed and turned to leave.

(*)

The moment Harry entered the Owelry, Hedwig swooped up and flew off into the rafters.

Harry found Mafalda Prewett fussing over a tawny barn owl, finally sent it off, then turned towards him.

"Ahh, Harry," she said. "It's about time."

"I came as quickly as I could," Harry replied. "Now, what do you want?"

"Only that you find a way to punish Lucius Malfoy for his involvement in recent events."

Harry tilted his head at Mafalda and regarded her for a moment. "I know I have my own reasons to suspect the elder Malfoy of being involved in this, but you seem to more than suspect."

"Yes," Mafalda said. "Last summer at Flourish and Botts in Diagon Alley, the Malfoy's and the Weasleys just so happened to be there at the same time. Words were exchanged between the two fathers that quickly escalated into a brawl. At the time I thought nothing of it, but now I suspect that moment was when that enchanted diary was planted on Ron."

"I see," Harry said. "Well I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. And, as it happens, I have already found a way to punish the Malfoy's."

"Oh?" It was Mafalda's turn to tilt her head. "Do tell."

"I freed their house-elf." Harry said proudly.

Mafalda did a double take. "How in Merlin's name did you manage that?" Harry told her of his confrontation with Lucius Malfoy in the hallway. Mafalda placed her hands over her mouth and giggled. "Oh, that was deliciously cunning of you." Then she straightened up. "Though I'm sure that only worked because Malfoy's house-elf hated him; in most other wizard households that have them, the house-elves are treated like family and thus have no desire to be free."

"Ah, I see," Harry said. "And I take it that you were the one who sent Director Bones that anonymous tip about Malfoy's secret stash?"

"Indeed, I did," Mafalda replied with another grin. "Well, never let it be said that I am not a witch of my word," she continued. "Freeing their house-elf is far more than I could have ever expected from either you or Granger, so a deal is a deal: We're even, and you can tell Granger the same once she's awake"

And with that Mafalda Prewett walked out of the Owelry without so much as backwards glance.

Hedwig landed back on his shoulder. Harry gave her an owl treat and began petting his snowy familiar.

(*)

That evening the Great Hall was abuzz with excitement and anticipation; finally, about halfway through dinner, the formerly petrified victims walked into the Great Hall to very enthusiastic applause. The Weasley brothers were heartily greeted by Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Wood, and Lee Jordan, while the Hufflepuffs jubilantly welcomed back Cedric Diggory and the Fat Friar, and the Ravenclaws likewise for Penelope Clearwater. And then—

"Hermione!" Harry said, standing up. Seeing her walking around again, healthy and hale—it almost took his breath away.

Hermione spotted Harry, ran towards him, and threw her arms around him. Harry didn't know how long they stood there but at last he felt whole and complete again. Elizabeth greeted Hermione with her own friendly hug, while Neville gave a greeting that was half-handshake and half-hug.

"So have you heard yet," Neville asked Hermione as they sat back down.

"Heard what?" Hermione said, taking the seat next to Harry. Harry wrapped an arm around her.

"Lockhart confessed to being a fraud," Neville said. "He's been arrested and everything."

"You may have noticed his absence from the head table," Elizabeth added. "Which means that—,"

"—I win the bet," Hermione finished. Her friends all did a double take.

"Huh, what?" said Harry.

"How do you figure that?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

In answer, Hermione reached into her book bag, got out Harry's dog-eared almanac, opened it and pointed.

Harry read, then gave Hermione an incredulous look. "The donor's page? Seriously?"

Now Hermione gave him a smug look that still managed to be cute. "The bet wasn't to prove that Lockhart was a dueling champion, it was to find him, and I quote, 'anywhere in this book'. I did, which means that I win!" She gave a little satisfied huff and then all four of them started laughing. This was one bet Harry didn't mind losing at all; his friends were alive and safe, that was all that mattered.

Near the end of the feast Dumbledore stood and called for everyone's attention. Once everyone had quieted down, the Headmaster began. "First, I expect many of you will be pleased to hear that the Wizarding Examinations Authority has agreed to delay all final exams—including O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s—until July." (Oh what a relief," Hermione said.) "Towards that end, Minister Fudge has agreed to suspend enforcement of the Trace until August 1st," Many students, particularly the muggleborns, cheered at this, "though all of you are reminded that the Statute of Secrecy still stands and that any magic use around unaware Muggles will still be investigated and punished accordingly. Also towards that end, I have decided to end this term early; the Hogwarts Express will be taking you all back tomorrow. With the cancellation of Quidditch, the Quidditch Cup will remain with Slytherin until the following term. And as for the House Cup, the current point totals are: Slytherin—two hundred and fifty, Hufflepuff—two hundred and seventy, Ravenclaw—two hundred and eighty, and Gryffindor—three hundred. So once again, Gryffindor wins the House Cup."

The Gryffindors rejoiced, the Slytherins grumbled, while the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws politely clapped.

"Now for some other news," Dumbledore continued after everyone had settled down again. "it seems that we are once again in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, after Professor Lockhart was arrested on multiple counts of fraud and assault and thus will be unable to return to us in the fall." Quite a few of the teachers and staff joined in the cheering at this news. "And on a completely unrelated note, in case you missed the news, both Argo Pyrites and Lucius Malfoy have been removed from the Hogwarts board of governors and Mr. Pyrites is also now a guest of the Ministry." The Slytherins were stoically silent at this news, a stark contrast to the cheering or polite clapping from the other three tables. Malfoy in particular looked resentful and sulky. "And in one last piece of news before I dismiss you, I am pleased to welcome back our groundskeeper, Hagrid." More cheering from everyone but the Slytherins as Hagrid briefly rose from his seat at the head table. "And now, I bid you all a very good night.

(*)

The train ride back the following morning passed surprisingly quickly. Harry, Neville, and Elizabeth spent the first half of it bringing Hermione up to speed on all the things that had happened while she was Petrified; the second half was spent playing Exploding Snap. All too soon they pulled into King's Cross, departed the train, said one last goodbye, and went their separate ways: Hermione to her parents, Neville to his grandmother, and Harry and Elizabeth to Andromeda Tonks.

"Is it still not safe for my mum?" Elizabeth asked, concerned.

"We're not sure," Andromeda replied as they turned toward the barrier out into the muggle side of the station. "Better safe than sorry. Come, it is time you see what we've done to the place."

"Done?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oh yes," said Andromeda, "Karen's been cooped up at Grimmauld Place for months, so she took to redecorating it just to pass the time." Andromeda led them to a nearby restroom and then, one at a time, apparated them to outside of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Then she bid them goodbye and left.

Based on what Elizabeth had told him earlier about Grimmauld Place, Harry would have expected the place to be have Slytherinish decor. He could still see hints of that in the snake-shaped door knocker and doorknobs, and in the Black Family Tree tapestry in the drawing room, but now most of the décor was much more Gryffindorish and Hufflepuffian: the portraits on the walls were gone, replaced by the pictures that had once adorned their old home; the carpets were now gold-colored, and the walls were painted brown and red; the troll-leg umbrella stand was gone, replaced by a more muggle-looking one.

Only two rooms had been left completely unchanged: the two on the fourth floor that had belonged to Sirius and his brother Regulus. Regulus's room remained quintessentially Slytherin, while Sirius' old bedroom was decorated with pictures of motorcycles and biker girls, which amused Harry. Karen had moved into the master bedroom in the attic; Elizabeth claimed the bedroom on the first floor while Harry took the almost identical one on the second floor.

Once Harry was settled in, he sought out the library on the ground floor. A pair of heavy wooden doors opened into a room that was large enough that it had obviously been magically expanded. Within the room were row upon row of shelves, all stuffed full of books; at a closer look, most of them looked unworn. Harry didn't know how long he spent wandering the room, scanning the titles on the books. As expected from a family with this one's reputation, the vast majority dealt with magic that was less than legal and a lot that was outright dark arts judging by the titles. It was like the Hogwarts library, except with no Restricted Section.

Harry smiled as he pictured setting Hermione loose in this room—she'd already more than hinted that she wanted to visit just to see this. All this knowledge, lost for so many years, he'd probably never see her again. That or she'd demand to move in with them. He could hardly wait to see her again.

(*)

Albus Dumbledore was feeling every year of his long life as he plowed through the mounds of paperwork in his office; most of it was a backlog from his absence—or things that he had been putting off even before then—but a lot of it was more recent: who would have thought that the sacking of two governors and the arrest of one would have caused him such hassle? Not to mention that he now needed to replace not just one but two professors: Lockhart's arrest opened up Defense Against the Dark Arts yet again, while Professor Kettleburn—the Care of Magical Creatures Professor—had just given notice that he intended to retire before losing what few limbs he had left. Even with only one job it still seemed at times that there were too few hours in a day. But—no, he was not going back to using the Time-Turner. He'd used it too much already; contrary to what many thought, the Elixir of Life only kept you alive: it didn't keep you from aging and although regular drinking could provide some semblance of youthful vitality, it wasn't a panacea.

The fireplace in his office abruptly lit up with a green fire, startling Dumbledore out of his thoughts; he stood and bent over to it. There in the green flames was the face of Saul Croaker, an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries.

"Albus," Croaker began without preamble. "There is something I need to show you; this is a matter of some urgency."

What now? Dumbledore thought. What new crisis could have possibly come up overnight with no notice? He sighed. "Very well, come on through." Croaker's face vanished, then the Unspeakable stepped through the fire, clad in a hooded grey robe. "What is this about?"

Croaker produced from a mokeskin pouch a goblet and placed it on his desk; Dumbledore examined it and was taken aback, for he had been attempting to locate this for some time: the goblet had the crest of Helga Hufflepuff on it.

"Where did you find this?

"It was among the dark artifacts confiscated in the raid on the house of Argo Pyrites," Croaker explained. "Once I realized what it was, I thought you might be interested."

"What it…was?" Dumbledore straightened up. There was something in Croaker's voice that hinted at more than just the obvious. "This is a horcrux?"

"It was," Croaker said. "But fortunately all Unspeakables are given Cursebreaker training as a matter of course, so it was no problem to deal with. Curious that you were already expecting that, though; even more curious is which dark wizard created it."

"I think we both know answer to that," Dumbledore replied.

"I see," said Croaker. "And you think that he has others?"

"At least four," said Dumbledore.

"Four, eh?" Croaker said. "Well then, I suppose we have our work cut out for us."

"Just keep the loop on this as small as possible," Dumbledore asked. "Remember Rookwood?"

Croaker scowled but nodded. "Very well, it will remain between the two of us. For now." And with that Croaker vanished back into the floo.

Dumbledore sat back down in his chair. He didn't like that someone else now knew the secret to Voldemort's immortality—the more people that knew, the greater the risk that the information would eventually find its way back to Voldemort—but Croaker was an Unspeakable: he'd sooner slit his own throat than talk about his work to anyone without a compelling need to know.

And he was quite relieved to have something good come out of this debacle. Now it was time to get back to work.

(*)

Summer wasn't nearly as fun for Harry and Elizabeth as it was normally, and not just because they were cooped up in a house with Victorian-era amenities and no electricity. The Wizarding Examinations Authority had sent out study guidelines for each subject and while for most subjects it was just review, Defense Against the Dark Arts was another matter entirely. Thanks to their experience in the Dueling Club, Harry and Elizabeth already knew all the spells that they would be required to cast for the practical part of the examination, but the written part was all new material—things that Lockhart should have taught but hadn't. It included having to learn about notorious dark wizards and witches of the past. And, although it wasn't been tested on, Lockhart had been supposed to give them a basic overview of possible careers that required an OWL or NEWT in DADA; all the other professors had done likewise for their classes right before the Easter break. Looking over the pamphlets that had been sent out with the study guidelines, Harry immediately tossed all the Ministry-related careers. He could never work for a government that saw no problem tossing innocents into Azkaban. Cursebreaking and the Dueling Circuit both sounded exciting, though.

The Black Family Library proved to be quite the lifesaver as it turned out to also contain a few historical texts that discussed various notorious dark wizards and witches—from Herpo the Foul and Emeric the Evil to Godelot and Ekrizidis; there was no book mentioning Grindelwald in the Black Family Library, though at least the mandatory textbook he'd purchased for first year included a brief overview of the Grindelwald War. And Harry knew from looking into his own family history that his great-uncle Charlus and great-aunt Dorea had fought in the conflict.

July came sooner than expected and the Wizarding Examination Authority sent out exam times by year and subject. The first and second years had theirs assigned for the last week of July. For their exam days they flooed to Hogsmeade and walked up to the castle where they were led to one of the classrooms on the ground floor for the exams. Harry felt very confident after his Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense exams.

On the morning of July 29th, the day of the first and second year Potions exams, Harry picked up the Daily Prophet over breakfast. One of the articles on the front page mentioned that the Weasley family had just won the Daily Prophet Galleon Draw and that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were planning to take family vacation to Egypt in August, and the article included a picture of the entire Weasley family waving. Ron even had his pet rat Scabbers on his shoulder. Harry turned the page, looking for the dueling listings.

(*)

If there was one part of his job that Minister Fudge disliked more than any other, it was the annual inspection of Azkaban. Although it was the one day of the year when the dementors were removed from the grounds, Fudge still hated coming here because of one prisoner: Sirius Black.

Most prisoners were reduced to catatonic shells within months but somehow Sirius Black was different.

"Hello Minister," Black called out to him, sounding quite bored. "Has it really been a year already? Time sure flies, doesn't it? How long has it been anyway?"

Fudge stopped and turned to face Black, unnerved by how…normal Black sounded. "Twelve years," Fudge said. "Twelve years you've been here, in the high-security ward with dementors outside your door day and night. How are you still sane?"

Black shrugged. "I'm innocent. Are you done with that newspaper? I do so miss the crossword." Black was eying the newspaper sticking out of Fudge's briefcase. Fudge, figuring that there was no harm in giving it to him and that it would definitely shut him up, pulled out the newspaper and slipped it through the cell bars, then hurried away to continue his inspection.

Sirius Black took in the date on the newspaper. It really had been twelve years. Twelve long years in the dark, for crimes he hadn't committed and without even a trial. Sirius unrolled the newspaper and immediately froze when he saw the picture on the front page. It was of a family of redheads, the Weasley's, who'd apparently won the Daily Prophet's Annual Galleon Drawing but Sirius' attention was immediately drawn to the youngest boy in the picture as on that boy's shoulder was a rat…a rat that Sirius recognized, a rat missing one toe.

'Wormtail!'

Somehow, the traitor was still alive; not only alive, but hiding out in a wizard family. Aside from Wormtail himself, there were only two people still alive who would recognize that rat: himself and Remus Lupin. And given Lupin's condition, there was no guarantee that he would even see this. Harry was in danger. Karen and Elizabeth were in danger. Sirius knew what he had to do.

(*)

On the morning of July 30th Harry and Elizabeth stepped into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place to find breakfast unmade, and Karen sitting at the table with her attention absolutely riveted on the paper in front of her. Tears were starting to stream down her cheeks.

"Mum?" Elizabeth asked as they approached. "Is everything alright? What's wrong?"

Karen looked up, startled at their voices. Then she simply turned the paper around. It was the Daily Prophet and on it was a prison mugshot of Sirius Black. The headline announced in bold letters: SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!