Hi guys, I'm back! Hopefully for a little while now. Thank you for being so patient, and for all the lovely reviews :)

Two days into his first job, Harry could see why most people didn't go for one out of choice.

Tom wasn't exactly a slave driver, but the other helper, David, who was just out of Hogwarts after doing OWLs and deciding not to bother with NEWTS, enjoyed getting Harry to do anything vaguely unpleasant such as cleaning the tables, doing the washing up (magic-less of course, the underage decree still counted unless you had an exemption, and while it was unlikely to be picked up in Diagon Harry would bet a day's wages David would tell on him) and general running around. The cleaning girl, Margaret, was much more welcoming, even cleaning Harry's rather dusty cupboard-room for him in the morning. Margaret was a few years older than David, not much younger than Harry's mum even, but the energy she brought with her made her seem younger.

Harry didn't actually mind the work, but he didn't want to be recognised and have word get back to someone important so he took the backroom jobs as much as he could and kept his head down.

Tom gave him a mid-afternoon break each day after the lunch rush had gone, and Harry had spent yesterday just wandering around, but now that he had yesterday's galleons in his pockets it was time to get himself some new robes.

There was a second-hand robe store on Diagon but Harry knew there was a cheaper one in Knockturn from overheard conversations at Hogwarts … dare he risk going down there? That really wouldn't look good in the papers. The invisibility cloak was stuffed in his chest pocket, but his heart was still pounding as he ducked into a doorway to pull it on.

Knockturn wasn't as stereotypically dark as he had thought, if you ignored the various body parts in some windows, and the clothes shop wasn't far down. The bell rang as he slipped in, but by the time the checkout girl had looked over Harry had closed the door.

Decision time. Reveal himself and hope she didn't recognise him, or stay under the cloak and leave some money on the counter?

He peered at the girl at the counter. She was reading a magazine … Witch Weekly. He was pretty sure he'd featured in that at least once …

Clandestine it was then. Harry felt slightly guilty as he grabbed some black robes that looked about his size off the rack, then a pair of dark green casual robes off the sales rack. The robes had a couple of thin or patched areas, but given the most expensive was twenty sickles, they were good enough.

Four robes added up to three galleons and four sickles. Harry ventured into the back of the store to see if they had anything else that would fill his wardrobe up, pushing past hanging curtains to get to the next racks.

This section looked far more interesting. Various cloaks, combat clothes and even old duelling robes - though some appeared to still have bloodstains on them.

Harry took a pair of combat leggings to go under robes, and toyed with a wand holster before deciding his current one was good enough with the added bonus of no ominous stains.

Turning around for a last look, a leather headband caught his eye, and upon picking it up he felt a small tingle. The fabric was tough on one side, soft on the inside and transitioned from flat to woven aft the back. Harry pushed his hair up and pit it on, tiptoeing over to look in the mirror. It was clearly a duelling headband to keep hair out of the way … and he kind of liked how it made him look.

There wasn't a price tag, so Harry counted out an extra couple of sickles and left the stack of money next to the register when the girl went to a back room to get something for the customer who had come in after him.

Harry paused at the door when the girl spoke. "I'm afraid we no longer have it, Mr Nott. It must have been sold since Saturday, I wasn't here until this morning." She sounded apologetic, but also slightly scared if Harry was hearing right.

Nott scowled. "It should have been on hold. Who bought it?"

The girl inclined her head. "My apologies, but we cannot give you that information." Her back was straight, and Harry noticed her hand was close to where he assumed her wand was.

"You won't hear the last of this," Nott warned, but he spun out, nearly knocking into Harry. Harry took the opportunity to dash out without having to wait for her to be looking away from the door, and sped back to his room at the Leaky Cauldron, dropping his new, slightly illegal purchases under the bed along with his cloak before hurrying back to work.

Sirius Black woke with a groan.

The trees above him swayed gently in the wind, blue sky turned a dappled green. The good weather did nothing to aid his backache from Apparating ten feet above the ground and hence landing quite heavily. Remus, of course, had landed on his feet.

The North Welsh mountain range had been Sirius' first thought of somewhere to go away from the attacking Death Eaters, but the area where he'd camped with James, years and years ago, had changed rather, and they'd had to walk a good distance to find shelter before the cold set in. Remus had done a masterful job of setting up protection charms and heating and mattress spells, but spells could never quiet compare to a warm bed.

"Morning, Padfoot." Remus' eyes were open, and he surveyed the trees around them before climbing to his feet. "So, what now?"

That was the question. Sirius had little desire to be Moody's pawn, and yet he owed certain members of the resistance his life … But Lily had been swayed to opening her arms to the resistance as a whole, which was of course partially Sirius' fault for staying with her in the first place.

"Did Harry get out?" Sirius had ignored the thought the previous night, knowing even if he returned, there would be nothing he could do if the boy hadn't managed to escape.

Remus shrugged, the movement overly casual for the distress lining his face. "We could go to Molly's…"

Sirius shook his head. "We can do more by ourselves. Mad-eye's got even more scheme-y recently, he'd send us off to spy somewhere and wouldn't really care if we got back."

"Ok. Then what? I have little desire to spend my life on a mountain." The unspoken question of dealing with Remus' transformation without access to Wolfsbane hung in the air.

Sirius scanned the sky … the moon was setting, but clearly half full. They had about two weeks to find a source or Remus would have to apparate to a deserted island and face the pain.

"We can figure out if Harry got out," he decided. "It'll be everywhere if Voldy got him, and if not, we look for him. He should be at Hogwarts next week if all's well - if he's not there already."

Remus nodded. "Hogwarts is awash with death eaters. We'll have to be very careful."

Sirius flashed a grim reminiscent of their marauder days. "Careful's my middle name, Moony, I thought you knew that."

Remus smiled dryly back.

Preparations for the revival of the Triwizard Tournament were going well.

Usually that would have lifted Voldemort's mood, but the escape of Harry Potter was still very much at the forefront of his mind.

They had all escaped. And he couldn't even really blame his followers, as he had been there himself.

Something was niggling at his mind, something he'd seen at the house, but even going through the memory in the pensive hadn't brought it back. It was very frustrating.

He had his followers digging through the wreck of the house - the fiendfyre had burnt out after several days - but so far they had found nothing of note, including no bodies. The nearest community was muggle and appeared to have had no contact with the Potters at all.

Apparition traces had already faded by the time the fire was low enough to get close and scan for them; the only information Voldemort had managed to glean was that there had been only two apparition points, meaning they had left in two groups using side-along.

So the next question was, where did they run to? The Resistance was by far the most likely place to go, as Moody's presence indicated a definite connection.

Summoning his apprentice, Voldemort dictated: "Increase the auror division focussed on finding where the Resistance are being based. Search all houses of family of affiliated members or suspected members - here." He wrote a quick warrant, signing it with a flourish. Amelie took it with a smile.

"Right away, my Lord," she turned and sped out of his office.

Only a few seconds later, there was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

Lucius Malfoy entered first, followed by Dolohov and Hinsberg, one of his newer recruits. All three sank to their knees.

"We've found something in the wreckage, my lord,: Malfoy said, and with a wave of his want a set ion small, metal brackets appeared and landed on the desk in front of Voldemort. "These match exactly the four corners of the standard trunk sold to Hogwarts first-years in Diagon.'

"And we found this," Hinsberg held up a thin strip of blue fabric. "The same colour of a Ravenclaw tie." The man grinned, but it slowly turned to a grimace at the unimpressed look on Voldemort's face.

"Some metal and a strip of fabric that could easily be of a scarf. What do you think this proves?" Voldemort stood. "Do I need to tell you how unlikely it is that the boy is at Hogwarts? Under my own nose? If you don't have conclusive evidence, do not waste my time." He flicked his hand, and the three men scampered out with quick bows and muttered apologues, although he took note that Malfoy looked rather disgruntled.

It was preposterous. There was simply no child at Hogwarts he hadn't quickly scanned in the past few years, assessing their looks, mannerisms and capabilities; James Potter, from what he remembered, had not been much of an actor, and it was unthinkable that an eleven - or twelve, he would be now - year old boy had the acting skills to fool him.

Besides, there were not many muggleborns or children who's parents he did not know in any of the lower years, and most of the muggleborns had been adopted into pureblood families at a young age.

Nevertheless, he would keep an eye out when he returned to Hogwarts; just in case he had missed something. There was always a possibility that a member of the resistance would try to contact the boy if he was, miraculously, concealed within Hogwarts' stone walls.

Perhaps he could be masquerading as a girl .. but no, the stairs in all the dorms would refuse entry to any non-staff males, and glamours or potions could not fool the ancient magic that had been wrought there.

Unless the boy was a metamorphmagus.

Unlikely … but he made a note to check the list of female muggleborns in the lower years just in case. There were not many in any case.

The day before Harry was due to pack up and get the bus to King's Cross, he was wiping down tables in the corner of the pub when everyone went quiet.

"Good morning, my Lord, anything I can do for you?" Tom's voice, even and without any inflections, rang out through the room.

"Just passing through today … checking all the businesses are thriving," the Dark Lord replied.

Creeping everyone out, you mean. Voldemort's roughly biannual public visits to Diagon alley were known even to Lily from her work at Madam Malkin's, and Harry remembered her coming home shaking one time he had actually come into the shop and briefly spoken to her.

Harry kept as still as possible, gaze fixed down at the floor, until the man left.

He would probably return within an hour or two, and Harry could only hope he'd found an excuse to be out of the main room at that point.

Voldemort strolled leisurely down Diagon alley, enjoying how the shoppers fell silent as he passed, then whispered when they thought he was out of earshot.

He made a point to publicly be seen here at least once a year, although this visit also had another purpose. While showing up to Knockturn in the dark had its merits, the shop that was his destination today would now have the apprehension of his visit to aid in their memory of the information he wanted.

Entering the main pet shop, Magical Menagerie, Voldemort smiled thinly as he listened to the couple of snakes in one corner clamour for his attention.

"How has he been treating you?" He asked.

"He doesn't feed us enough," grumbled one grass snake. Voldemort could see the shopkeeper watching keenly, but he didn't look worried; from the size of the snakes Voldemort doubted they were lacking in find.

"Have you seen a boy, black haired, with green eyes here anytime?" It was a long shot, but always worth a try.

The snakes did the equivalent of shaking their heads. "Many black hairs boys pass here," an added said, "but none with green eyes."

Voldemort nodded, and bid the snakes goodbye. He inclined his head to the shopkeeper as he left, and could see the slight decrease in tension in the man's shoulders that the snakes hadn't said anything bad about him.

Now for Knockturn.

The shopkeeper was already slightly pale as he walked in; clearly, despite his Death Eater's threat, she hadn't actually expected him to appear in person.

"I believe you know what I am here for," the Dark Lord said, and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.

Her mind had barriers, for sure, but nothing compared to his practice in breaking them down. He tried to be relatively gentle; it would do him no good to destroy someone's mind in a business that usually helped him and his Death Eaters a good amount.

The artefact he was seeking was a sword, supposed to be Godric Gryffindor's. He had had no idea how the clothes shop had got hold of it; items of that value usually ended up in Borgin and Burke's.

Finding the memory in her head, he watched a scene where a cloaked man dropped off the sword in return for a second hand wand and some robes; he spoke quickly, and seemed to be in pain, standing straight but favouring one leg, and Voldemort noticed his left hand stayed limp by his side.

Skipping to the next memory, he saw a different man, this one middle-aged with greying-blonde hair, stroll in and inquire after the sword, then when she denied knowledge, invading her mind.

Invading a mind and relieving a memory if someone else invading the mind was an odd experience; Voldemort could feel the consciousness of the other invader, but faintly, like a reflection. However, it was enough for him to recognise it. And that man was supposed to be dead.

Regulus Black

He withdrew after the man left the shop, apologising to the shopkeeper as he went. Voldemort mirrored the man, but unlike Black left no insincere apologies, but a warning to contact him or one of his Death Eaters should the man ever visit again.

Black the younger had vanished, presumed killed by the Resistance, over twelve years ago.

Voldemort's thoughts whirled. The last time he had seen Regulus had been a Death Easter meeting weeks after using the man's house elf to hide his third horcrux .. And a month after that the man hadn't shown up, with the Blacks holding a funeral after a few weeks of searching.

Had Regulus turned to the resistance over a house-elf?

… Did he know of the horcrux?

Arriving back at the ministry, Lucius started as the Dark Lord strode into his office.

"Regulus Black may be alive," he stated. "Add him to the list of top-priority people to find. I have reason to believe he has joined the Resistance."

To his credit, Lucius' only act of surprise was the widening of eyes and slight raise of eyebrows. "Of course, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded. "How is the girl getting on?"

"The girl? Oh, yes. Fine. Narcissa has … come round to the idea." Voldemort waited. "She seems obedient enough."

"Good. Make sure she is ready for Hogwarts come August."

Lucius nodded, and Voldemort left the office, thoughts whirling as he searched his mind for anything pointing to Regulus Black's continued survival. The man had done an incredible job of staying hidden, so why had he revealed himself now?

So many questions.

Voldemort sighed. Hogwarts' spring term started the next evening; the paperwork on his desk needed to be done by then.

Paperwork was not what he had become the ruler of magical Britain for.

Harry sat on his new trunk on the platform at King's Cross.

One weeks earnings had given him enough money to get a very battered secondhand trunk and replace his school textbooks - again, secondhand editions - in addition to the robes he had bought. He had finally taken the risk and cast a quick charm to change his hair colour and make him appear taller to buy his things, and thankfully no one had recognised him, or at least hadn't appeared to. So as long as no one at the Leaky cauldron thought a talented twelve-year-old's presence was important enough to inform the Death Eaters, he should be able to hide his homelessness for now.

However, he wouldn't be able to forever. He would need to get a summer job, and unless he got one in the muggle world and spent the summer without magic, he would have to stay in the wizarding world - and he had no doubt someone would find out eventually.

The platform gradually filled up, but was noticeably less busy than in September - many students, especially the upper years, had chosen to stay at Hogwarts, or got their parents to drop them off at the school after Christmas celebrations had finished.

Harry was one of the first on the train when it arrived, and cast a quick locking charm on the compartment door to ensure no one disturbed him.

He laid down on the bench, trying to get his thoughts in order. He needed to act normal. He had the duelling contest to work towards, all his lessons …

He could stay at Hogwarts over Easter without raising suspicion.

He just needed a plan by summer.

Ages away.

Harry sat up and got out his fourth year defence book. He might as well do something useful on the train.

Hogsmead was quiet, the frosty air and biting wind discouraging anyone from leaving their house. The students wasted no time in getting off the train and into the carriages, leaving their trunks for the house - elves to take up. Harry ended up in a carriage with a Hufflepuff fourth year - or maybe fifth year - who kept glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Harry ignored him, facing out the window as he cast a warming charm.

There was a movement in the trees and Harry leaned forward - who would be out on a day like this? - But the horseless carriages started moving, and he only caught a glimpse of something vaguelly animal-like before he was out if view.

No matter. Probably a deer. Or something out the forbidden forest … Harry turned away, mentally preparing himself for the feast; there would probably be a speech, and as much as he wanted to go to bed his absence would likely be noticed. He'd leave as soon as Voldemort did, Harry decided.

Remus was waiting under a makeshift shelter of dead tree branches, the barrier making a foundation for temporary wording charms, as Sirius paddy dup in dog form. He transformed back, sliding under the 'doorway'.

"He's there, Remus." Sirius sat up against the tree trunk. "Looked pretty chipper considering. Reckon we should send a message to Lily?"

Remus' fingers fluttered, needing something to fiddle with. He picked up a twig, twirling it from one hand to the other. "…yes, but not … we need to make sure we don't draw attention. Or give anything away - if they intercept a message from here saying he's safe, they could reasonably conclude he is at Hogwarts."

"A patronus can't be intercepted though."

"As far as we know," Remus corrected. "We'll move, and send Lily a message at the end of the week. That necklace Mad-Eye gave her will keep her mind at rest for now." Remus hesitated. "To be honest, Padfoot, I'm not sure we should even be considering bringing him to the resistance. You-Know-Who has taken much more of an interest in him than is safe."

Sirius glanced sharply at the werewolf. "Do you think he's going dark?"

Remus grimaced. "I don't know what to think, Pads." He stretched, brushing leaves off his legs. "Let's go."

Minds made up, the two outlaws quickly disassembled their structure, smoothing over the ground before Apparating out; the only trace one would have been able to find would have been a lone paw print in the dirt, and even that was quickly brushed over by the wind.

The feast was just starting as Harry entered the hall, Selena curled up around his neck. Normally he would have dropped her in his room beforehand, but in any case the Dark Lord knew about her now so it really didn't matter.

Habitually, Harry's eyes scanned the top table before he sat down. Snape sat in his headmaster's chair, Voldemort in the honorary, more elegant chair to his left … most of the teachers were there. He looked back the Ravenclaw table before accidental eye contact could be made.

Michael turned to face Harry as he sat down beside him. "Good Christmas, Konor?"

Harry nodded. Act normal. "Yeah. Got a cool cloak and loads of chocolate. You?"

"Yeah, nothing big, I came back after New Year's, got pretty bored at home, Mum doesn't let me use magic at all."

Hermione paused in her conversation with Goldstein on the other side of the table and shot a piercing glance at Michael over the table. "Why would she? We're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts until we graduate with NEWTS or OWLS, and with OWLS you need an exemption for work to use magic if you're under seventeen."

Straight out of the textbook. Harry smiled at her thinly, and took a bit of bitter pride in how she recoiled at the unfriendly gaze. "You're not taking into account how the trace works," he said calmly. "If there's adults around you, it doesn't ring any alarms, as the trace is fixed to your physical location in space and time and not your magical signature." Thankfully, the eons-old charm also gave no way to track the person unless the alarm went off.

Hermione's mouth opened in an 'oh', but she frowned, "Who told you that?"

Harry shrugged. "Common knowledge." A lie, but Harry couldn't actually remember where he had seen the information.

The girl scowled, but didn't retort as the hall went quiet as the Dark Lord stood up from the table.

"Good evening, students. I hope you had an enjoyable break, and are ready and enthusiastic for the new term," he said. "I would like to remind you all that the annual tournament will be well underway imminently, and that I expect a high standard of duelling this year. As an added … incentive, the student who places last in each round except the last will be banned from next year's competition."

That was … interesting. Was he in danger of finishing last in a round? It rather depended on how far he got … But he really didn't want to have to stand and watch next year.

It did mean some people might end up making a tactical decision to lose if they thought they weren't going to make it through the next round - but in some duels, losing would potentially be worse for one's health, depending on the curses allowed. How were they going to say who was last though? Last year half the class or less moved forward and half lost, not one person.

"To determine the last-placed person, each duel will be graded, with points out of three for each dueller on the offensive spells used, the defensive spells used, and on the evasion or other movements used." Voldemort answered the question before Harry could voice it.

Flitwick piped up. "So if you stand still, or turn you back on your opponent, you will get a low movement grade."

Voldemort inclined his head as Flitwick sat down again. "Additionally, the duelling stages have all been moved forward; the first-years stage is on the last weekend of January, and the number of students progressing through the stages will be five or six, dependant on numbers, for first to fourth years, but only three or four fifth to eighth years."

Small changes. Although that meant he had two weeks' less to prepare.

"Happy new year." Voldemort sat down, and the food appeared.

He seemed to be in quite a cheery mood. Harry tucked in, half-listening to the conversations around him, and left half an hour later.

Ravenclaw tower was quiet with most still down at the feast; Harry hissed to Selena to let her know to come out as he entered his room, and she slithered onto his pillow to fall asleep. He cast a light warming charm on her, then pulled off his outer robes, stretching, a surprised yawn escaping him.

His trunk was at the foot of his bed, and Harry wasted no time unpacking, and changed into his pyjamas before sitting on his bed, the wave of tiredness having passed.

He should write down a plan. No - someone could find it.

He could plan for the tournament.

Harry went to pick up some parchment, but his fingers brushed against the diary he hadn't touched since before Christmas. In his hurry to leave the house, the book had been thrown in his bag with the rest of his school books that had made it out the burning house.

Picking up a quill, Harry hesitated. What had he written last time? Oh yes, a smiley face.

He wasn't feeling very smiley.

Harry drew an upside down smile, adding some eyebrows and a nose, and waited.

Longer chapter than before :) I don't think I missed anything / continuity errors etc but let me know if I did.

Happy lockdown people x