A.N.: If you want to use voodoo to punish me for overhauling this story again…I understand. I just couldn't help it! I went to see The Crimes of Grindelwald and fell in love with Theseus and Leta, and Zoё Kravitz! Damn her, that bone-structure!

You'll see themes borrowed from the old version of Maia, but I'm trying to finesse the story a little more than I did last time. I may extend the timelines a bit so everything doesn't happen at once, but hopefully it'll feel organic.

Eldest of the Pleiades

Cat, Rat and Dog

"YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

The two men stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. Terrible malevolence radiated from Black; from Professor Lupin, a sad sort of calm.

"You should have realised," Lupin said quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter."

Hermione covered her face with her hands, turning away, her lip trembling. Ron looked about ready to faint, though that might have had more to do with his broken leg, which he was still clutching, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his freckled face.

But this wasn't right. He couldn't watch this. He stared at the two men - his father's best friends: One, too world-weary and unhappy for someone as young, clever and loyal as he was; and the other, emaciated by his own worst memories, by fear - and a little madness. He looked at the man who had once laughed at his parents' wedding, and believed he had grieved more for Harry's parents than he ever had: But then, Black had grown up with them, known them, remembered them. He had more than just his mother's dying words replaying over and over in his head whenever the Dementors got too close.

"NO!" Running forward, he faced the two wands. "You can't kill him!" he panted. "You can't!"

The two men looked thunderstruck.

"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Black snarled, still as skeletal and alarming to look at as five minutes ago, but…he could see it, now; the desperation, the grief, the anger, the focus. Everything that had kept Black going…to protect Harry. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die, too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know," Harry panted. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors. He can go to Azkaban…just don't kill him."

"Harry!" Pettigrew gasped, flinging his arms around Harry's knees. "You - thank you - it's more than I deserve - than you - "

"Get off me!" Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands away. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I don't reckon my dad would've wanted his best friends to become killers - just for you."

For a moment, no-one moved; the only sounds came from the groaning of the house settling in the wind, Ron's stifled moans of pain, and the wheezing breaths of panic-stricken Pettigrew. Black and Lupin stared at each other for a long moment, reading each other the way…the way Harry and Ron could, he realised. Twelve years in Azkaban, another year on the run, and the two men had slipped back into the kind of intimacy born of deep loyalty and years of unconditional friendship.

As one, they lowered their wands.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry," Black said softly. "But think…think what he did…"

"He can go to Azkaban," Harry said decisively, feeling suddenly more mature than a skinny thirteen-year-old with frightfully messy hair and knobbly knees. "If anyone deserves that place, he does…"

"Very well… Stand aside, Harry…" Pettigrew wheezed on the dusty floor, and Harry watched Professor Lupin shrewdly as he approached. Lupin reassured him, "I'm going to tie him up. That's all, I swear." Harry frowned, but nodded, and stepped aside. Thin cords bound Pettigrew in an instant, wriggling like an absurd earthworm on the dusty floor.

"But if you transform, Peter," Black growled, his own wand on Pettigrew, "we will kill you. You agree, Harry?" Harry stared at the pitiful creature now whimpering and crying at his feet, and nodded so that Pettigrew could see.

"Right," Lupin said brusquely, "Ron, I'm afraid I'm not nearly as qualified as Madam Pomfrey, but I can bind that leg until we can get you to the Hospital Wing. I'd rather not meddle, you understand."

"Last year, Professor Lockhart tried to mend Harry's arm during a Quidditch match," Ron laughed, still sweating, but looking more optimistic. "He got rid of all the bones in his arm instead! Remember, Harry?"

"I'm not likely to forget," Harry said grimly, flexing the offending arm. "At least you won't have to drink Skelegrow."

Lupin approached the four-poster bed, where Crookshanks was purring loudly. Tapping Ron's leg lightly with his wand, he said clearly, "Ferula." A splint and bandages appeared from thin-air, binding themselves to Ron's leg. Lupin helped him off the bed, and Ron winced only slightly when he put his weight on his leg.

"That's better," he said, relieved. "Thanks."

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione's voice was small, and polite, and she was stood looking down at Snape, still unconscious.

"Yes, Hermione?" Lupin answered, just as politely as if they were in the classroom talking about Kappas.

"I… I think perhaps we ought to revive Professor Snape," she said, and Harry recognised the feverish gleam in her eye, the one that told him that he and Ron they would be spending a lot of time in the library. She glanced from Harry to Ron, then looked Professor Lupin and Black in the face, with a touch more confidence. With a wince, she said, "Professor Dumbledore will listen to us, but there are Dementors all over and the Minister of Magic isn't…well… Nobody's going to listen to three troublemakers and a werewolf, not about something like this. It upsets everything we thought was settled over a decade ago."

Lupin glanced quickly at Black, communicating more with a look than they needed to in words. He seemed not to notice the three skinny teenagers, as he frowned thoughtfully, murmuring, more to himself than anyone else, "What would Ell have us do?"

Black started, as if he had been struck, his expression flickering between guilt-stricken, anguished, yearning and lost, and Harry saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. His pale eyes glowed, but never strayed from Lupin's face. Harry could see him thinking, his pale eyes vivid in the skeletal face that seemed carved from marble.

Pettigrew wriggled on the dusty floor. Harry was tempted to kick him to make him stop.

With a deep sigh, Black strode over to Professor Snape; Lupin turned his wand on Pettigrew as Black directed his borrowed wand at its master. Before he did anything, Black picked up Harry's Invisibility Cloak, folded it neatly, and passed it to Harry with a ghost of a smile. Harry tucked the Cloak inside his jumper. With great effort, it seemed, going against his instincts, Black revived Snape with an unspoken spell.

When he roused, groggy and bleeding, the first thing Snape's furious, glittering black eyes landed on…was Pettigrew. Bound and gagged where, a short while ago, he had bound Lupin. For a good long while, there was no reaction. Unlike Black, Harry had no idea what was going on in Snape's mind; he was a closed book.

The house creaked and groaned; Pettigrew whimpered around his gag. And they all jumped as Snape launched himself at the cowering mess on the floor. For a second, the two adults were too stunned to react, as Hermione shouted and Harry gaped, and on the bed, Crookshanks flicked his tail, his expression almost smug as he watched.

Then Black caught Snape, one skeletal hand clamped on his shoulder, hauling him away from the whimpering, now-bleeding mess that was one of Harry's father's formerly best friends.

"No." Black sounded as dangerous as the bear-sized dog he could turn into, his eyes glowing in the faint light. "Snape… You needed to see. To understand." He raised Snape's wand against him, not an overt threat but a warning, that he would be heard this time.

Harry had never seen Professor Snape so angry, Black's earlier fury paling in comparison. All the times Harry had been brought up in front of the Potions master, for one reason or another, he had never seen the professor like this, speechless, apoplectic. He couldn't help wonder at the professor's reaction - well, that it wasn't directed at him. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, who looked as stunned as he felt.

"Peter Pettigrew…at least, what's left of him. You'll notice a finger missing," Black said coolly, staring down Snape. "I escaped Azkaban to kill only one person; though it's more than he deserves, Harry would have us send this putrescent maggot to Azkaban."

"Ellaria will vouch that Sirius was not the Potters' Secret Keeper," Lupin said, and Harry frowned, wondering who Ellaria was. He had never heard the name before, but the mention of her just a moment ago had coaxed Black to think, and then to act, to wake Snape, a man he despised, and who loathed him, wanted to see him executed.

Black's eyes briefly flickered from Snape's face to Lupin, who looked sombre and tired.

"Ell knew, didn't she? She told me you were innocent when I didn't want to hear it," Lupin said sadly.

Speaking as if to the room in general, Black said, "I would have died to protect James and his family… Ellaria convinced me to live for my own… I made the switch with Peter, thinking it was a coup, no-one would ever dream… I was the natural, the only choice… I abandoned Ellaria when we needed each other the most… Did she - ?" He glanced up at Lupin, something like apprehension in his pale eyes.

"Ellaria survived the war," Lupin said softly, with a small smile making him look years younger - more his actual age than a man ten years older. But there was something sad in his eyes, and Harry had to wonder at it. "Severus…we need you - we need someone - to hear the truth. The truth about who betrayed Lily and James. Someone people will listen to."

"You're the last person who would ever corroborate my story, Snape," Black said, loathing in his eyes as he stared down the Potions Master. "But if Dumbledore was ever right about you, you'd know how to prove this piece of vermin is the traitor who betrayed James and Lily."

"My wand," Snape said, so silkily Harry shrank back, catching Ron's eye. He knew that tone. That tone meant detention for a month. He dreaded hearing that tone. Snape held out his hand to Black, who narrowed his eyes in loathing, but sighed, exchanging a look with Lupin.

No sooner had Snape taken possession of his wand than Pettigrew was hauled upright, rigid, shuddering with fear. Lupin's ropes disappeared, replaced by angry, glowing cords of light, maybe even of fire, tight and unforgiving. Pettigrew's squeaks and whimpering became constant; Snape pointed his wand at the shrunken, balding man, and the sleeve of his tattered old robes was slashed, revealing his grubby left forearm. Harry saw Black and Lupin exchange a frown, but they didn't interfere.

Harry realised he wasn't breathing, and slowly inhaled. It looked like Hermione was holding her breath, too, but she was frowning curiously at Snape.

He rarely saw magic being performed outside of a classroom setting, where the teachers went out of their way to verbalise every new spell they performed, as an example, or a reminder. But this was…adult magic, Harry thought. This was what he could do, after he finished Hogwarts; what he'd be capable of. Nonverbal, complicated magic. Powerful. That was what he got from Snape, standing in front of Pettigrew; the sense of barely-leashed power, the same charge in the atmosphere that crackled around Black, and hummed around Lupin's calm surety. Snape felt brittle and dangerous, and Harry watched, frowning in confusion, as he pressed the tip of his wand to a point on Pettigrew's forearm.

The shadow of a mark appeared. A faded tattoo. A serpent-tongued skull. It burned black and ugly on Pettigrew's arm, and he whimpered, thrashing against the bonds that hissed and steamed against his bare skin, burning his clothes.

Hermione's lips parted on a silent gasp of recognition, but Harry and Ron exchanged a frown. Hermione must've read about it, but they had no clue. Harry turned to ask Lupin what the mark was, but he saw the professor exchanging a dark, loaded look with Black.

"Legilimens," Snape hissed softly, fury seeming to roll off him in waves.

What Snape was doing, Harry didn't know; he saw Black lean forward and murmur something in Lupin's ear. The professor nodded once, their eyes on the mark on Pettigrew's arm.

That white-hot, silent rage seemed to consume Snape when he opened his fathomless black eyes next.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he turned to Black and Lupin. His lips did not move as he hissed, "Explain."

And so they told Professor Snape everything, finding out about Lupin, even the illegal Animagi. Even the bits he had heard before Harry, Ron and Hermione jinxed him, he listened to without interruption. Black reiterated that Lupin hadn't been in on the plot to set Snape up when they were teenagers, and neither had Harry's dad… They talked about the War in more detail with someone who had endured it, as they had, who remembered. Some things couldn't be explained; but they didn't need to explain what things had been like when Voldemort was still in power.

Snape listened as Black told him about switching with Pettigrew as the Potters' Secret Keeper, telling no-one but Ellaria Scamander, an Auror.

Harry didn't interrupt this time, just perched beside Ron on the bed as if neither of them were in the room. The three adult wizards spoke of a time they had experienced together, on opposing sides of a war. Hermione watched Pettigrew, slowly revolving in mid-air, bound by fiery light, petting Crookshanks, who nuzzled her and purred loudly, the only source of noise when Black and Lupin fell silent.

Black retold the story of his escape, confusing the Dementors as a dog. He demonstrated his Animagus transformation for his former school rival, who showed no reaction but a furious glitter in his eye.

And Neville Longbottom was exonerated. At least, Black confessed that Crookshanks had stolen the Gryffindor passwords from Neville's bedside-table, and on his orders. The break-in to the school at Halloween had been about Sirius trying to murder Pettigrew, not attack Harry, or Ron, who still had nightmares.

Sirius Black, though he could be accused of many things, was innocent of the crime of betraying James and Lily Potter to Lord Voldemort. Harry got the impression that was all Black truly cared about; that people knew he hadn't betrayed his friends.

He had not escaped Azkaban to kill Harry; but because he was the only one who understood the danger Harry was in. Not even Dumbledore could know it.

When Black finally finished talking, his voice was as hoarse as Harry had heard it all night. Snape stood, silent as a statue.

"Severus… Please," Lupin asked quietly, earnestly. "Will you help us?"

After a long moment, Snape's eyes narrowed. He was thinking, very quickly, very shrewdly. Finally, he said, so silkily and so dangerously Harry stifled a shudder, "You dread the loss of Dumbledore's trust most, Lupin; you can be the one to confess all. Even a werewolf's testimony is more trustworthy than an escaped convict's… This…this coward will not escape my bindings; he shall stay in custody at the castle until a despatch can be delivered to the Auror Office."

Next, Snape turned his wand back on Pettigrew. With a series of complicated twists and flicks of his wand, scowling all the while, Snape seemed to alter or increase the spells binding Pettigrew, now unconscious, eyes open but glassy, slowly revolving in mid-air, bound by not just angry red fiery cords but heavy shackles that seemed to vibrate with power, binding his ankles, and his wrists crossed behind his back. He looked vaguely like a circus contortionist who had seen better days, lit up like an obscure and faintly nauseating Christmas tree.

After that, things seemed simple enough. Crookshanks leapt from the bed, brushed up against Black's ankles, purring loudly, and took point, leading them downstairs, to the entrance to the tunnel. Snape directed Pettigrew's unconscious form at wand-point, the glowing of his magical bindings illuminating the derelict house, the grim passage. Hermione partnered with Ron to help him down into the tunnel. Lupin ducked into the passage, and Black ushered Harry after him. They kept stride with each other, backs bent to navigate the low tunnel.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Sirius asked, keeping pace with Harry. "Turning Pettigrew in, I mean."

"You're free," Harry said, with a small smile.

"Yes… But also - I don't know if anyone ever mentioned… I'm your godfather."

"I know," Harry said. "I don't think people wanted me to know, I only found out because -"

"Because?"

"Well…the Weasley twins gave me the Marauders' Map so I could sneak into Hogsmeade and meet Ron and Hermione…" He lowered his voice, uncertain whether Snape could hear every word he was saying. "…it was snowing, so we went to the Three Broomsticks. Except we didn't realise it was the teachers' last day of term, too… Fudge was there, and the professors started talking… That's when I learned about you knowing my mum and dad, about being my dad's Best Man, about being their Secret Keeper. Hagrid reckons you and my dad were like brothers. They said you're my godfather…"

"Your reaction earlier isn't quite so surprising, if that's how you learned about all this," Sirius sighed. A smile flickered across his face. "Although Prongs would've loved that you snuck out of school to go to the pub! …You know, your parents appointed me your guardian. If anything happened to them…"

Harry waited with baited breath. Did Sirius mean what he thought he meant?

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," Sirius said, "But…well…think about it. Once my name is cleared…if you wanted a…a different home…"

Some sort of explosion happened in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"What - live with you?" he blurted, cracking his head on the roof of the tunnel. "Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," Sirius said quietly. "I understand. I just thought I'd - "

"Are you mad?" Harry croaked. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?" Sirius turned right around to look at Harry.

"You want to?" he said. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it!" Harry grinned.

Sirius' gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling. Harry was stunned to see, briefly, the handsome young man who had laughed at his parents' wedding. Azkaban had not taken all his looks; vestiges of how handsome Sirius had once been still clung on, and he wondered if time, sunshine and good food might mend some of the damage prolonged exposure to the Dementors had wrought on him.

"Who is Ellaria Scamander?" he asked, too curious not to blurt it out. He only knew the surname, from his Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them textbook.

"Ellaria was…is…your godmother," Sirius said heavily. "She was a couple of years ahead of James, Remus and me at school… She trained at the Auror Academy during the War…Moony tells me she's free-lance, and travels the world hunting Dark Wizards…"

"I have a godmother, too?"

"Yes," Sirius said, with a sad look on his face. "Harry…are there any Scamanders in your class?"

"Er…I dunno… I don't think so. I didn't know I had a godmother too."

Sirius sighed. "There's good reason you don't know about Ellaria…"

Lupin glanced over his shoulder, falling back, and he nodded Harry onwards, so that he could speak with Sirius. Over the sounds of the others navigating the low passage, Harry strained to hear the low murmur of the two men's conversation…

"…not until Rigel was five…they were in Bulgaria…"

"…are they now?"

"Bolivia…or was it Ghana? She's taken them all over the world with her, Sirius. Working," Lupin said softly. "They send letters, almost weekly sometimes, when they're excited about something. They always return for December, though…at least the children do."

"The children don't go to school here?"

"No. Ellaria prefers to home-school them, and with good reason," Lupin said. "Maia surpassed N.E.W.T. standards when she was ten. She's bright, Sirius. Creative. A bit mad. And Raja…"

"Raja and Maia? All the arguments over names…" A soft chuckle, almost an alien sound.

"I remember them well."

Harry felt eyes on the back of his neck, but didn't want them to think he was listening. Black said, very quietly, "What are they like?"

"Vibrant, and eccentric," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Ellaria's nurtured a love of learning, of words and culture and curiosity. They are kind, considerate, curious children with open-minds and giant hearts and…and they adore each other."

"Friends," Black grunted softly. He sighed.

"Best friends," Lupin said.

"A shame they didn't come to Hogwarts. I'm surprised Ell didn't send them."

"Rigel would certainly like to go, I think, and be with other boys…but Maia… She would chafe at the structure. Ellaria lays the foundations for their education but gives them the freedom to research, to create experiments, to learn, without limitations… Maia would be bored. And when she's not wholly engaged, she tends toward self-destruction. Too like you… As for Rigel…"

The two men, Harry realised, had fallen behind, because he could no longer hear their murmured conversation; he maintained his pace, keeping up with the bobbing light of Hermione's wand ahead, remembering to light his own only as he stumbled in the dark and cracked his head again.

Harry's godfather wanted him to live with him!

He grinned to himself in the dark, imagining the looks on the Dursleys' faces when he told them he was moving in with the escaped convict they had seen on the 8 O'clock News.

The Whomping Willow was still as a statue when Harry clambered up; Crookshanks stood by the knot, flicking his tail; he purred loudly at the sight of Sirius, brushed up against his legs once, and trotted off, leading the way.

Harry had never been part of a stranger party. Crookshanks leading, Pettigrew lighting up the grounds like an absurd Christmas tree, Ron and Hermione hobbling like entrants in a three-legged race, Professor Lupin bringing up the rear as Harry walked with his godfather, a convicted criminal who had escaped from an inescapable prison. The only light came from Pettigrew and from the windows of the castle, tiny but jewel-bright.

They all had a lot to think about, and walked in silence around the edge of the lake toward the school, with the occasional grunt of pain from Ron. The lake rippled gently, the giant squid waving its tentacles above the water in the moonlight…

Moonlight - The clouds shifted, and suddenly their party was bathed in silvery-white moonlight. The moon hung low, full, and vibrantly beautiful, casting hazy shadows across the grounds, distorting everything eerily.

Sirius froze. His eyes were on Ron and Hermione, staggering ahead with Snape and the captive Pettigrew. He flung an arm out to stop Harry.

Because Lupin had gone rigid.

Harry could see Lupin's silhouette. His face was raised to the moonlight, his entire body thrumming, and Harry saw, for a brief moment, that the professor's eyes had turned amber, lupine.

Lupin had told them it was very painful to turn into a werewolf. Now, Harry saw the truth. They all did; at the noise of snapping bones and groans of pain, the panted breaths of someone undergoing physical torture, Hermione and Ron and Snape all turned to watch as Lupin buckled, his legs breaking… It was awful, watching.

"Harry…go and join your friends. Run. Now!" Sirius whispered. "Get back up to the school and stay there."

Mesmerised, they watched Professor Lupin endure something beyond description, truly horrifying.

"Harry - go!" In an instant, Sirius had transformed into the giant black dog; he barrelled toward Lupin, now shuddering with the force of his growls, flashing eyes locked on Hermione and Ron.

Sirius leapt forward, fangs flashing as they locked around the werewolf's neck, dragging him away. Harry darted forward, fumbling with his wand, his hands freezing.

It was horrible, watching Sirius and the werewolf fighting tooth and claw as Sirius dragged the werewolf away. The viciousness was unparalleled, and Harry couldn't help wonder whether Sirius would scar as a man, with the damage Lupin inflicted on him as a dog.

"Potter!" Snape hissed, and Harry glanced over his shoulder. He ran to his friends, keeping his wand handy, and flinched when Snape brandished his wand like a whip. Something silver shot out of the tip, glowing vibrantly, darting away before Harry's eyes could adjust to the brightness - a Patronus, something with long, elegant legs. The Patronus streaked away, toward the castle, a shooting-star in the darkness.

In spite of the werewolf on the loose, they made slow goings, mostly due to Ron's broken leg, but also because of the rough terrain and lack of visibility. The clouds had shifted again, obscuring the moon. Snape wouldn't let them light their wands, and obscured Pettigrew with some kind of spell that dimmed the glowing shackles and cords of light, just in case the light drew Lupin back. Harry switched places with Hermione, to give her a break, and they trudged determinedly up to the school.

Far off in the distance, they heard a wolf howl. Harry shivered. Not long later, they heard footfalls, large paws thundering on the ground.

Seconds later, Sirius the man appeared in a sliver of moonlight. He was bleeding and panting.

"Moony's deep in the forest," he told them, "where there's plenty to hunt."

"Are you alright?"

"I've come out of worse scrapes than this," Sirius chuckled softly. "Here, Harry, let me take over." Surprisingly strong for a man as emaciated as he was, Sirius wrapped Ron's arm around his shoulders, helping him balance.

They almost didn't notice the cold.

It crept into his lungs, and Harry shuddered, blinking away the fog that seemed to have crept into his eyes, trying to tune out the screaming. He raised his hand, rubbing his eyes, and shook his head, trying to dislodge the ringing. His breath caught in his throat.

His breath plumed in front of him, cold leaching into his bones, settling deep in his marrow.

"Nooo…" The moan came from up ahead, from Sirius, who swayed, shuddering, his breaths coming in shallow bursts. Ron swayed and fell with a loud thump as Sirius fell to his knees, hands clasped over his head. "Nooooo…please…"

There had to be a hundred of them, swarming toward them, a solid wall of impenetrable blackness, obscuring everything around them. Dementors. His hands shaking from the cold, his vision blurry and the ringing in his ears once more, Harry gripped his wand. Ron was whimpering in pain on the ground, Hermione's wide eyes shone in the moonlight, and Harry glanced over at Snape, who looked as stern and resolute as ever, his wand held high, Pettigrew seemingly drifting of his own accord to the castle, still glowing softly in the dark. Harry saw the front doors swing open to admit Pettigrew, still bound.

"Expecto Patronum!" He wasn't the only one who said it, wasn't the only one trying to cling to the very best memories he had. "Hermione! Think of something happy! The happiest memory you have! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" He planted himself between Ron and Sirius, shaking his head to dislodge the fog, refusing to listen to his mother's voice, refusing to think that, if he just let it in, he'd hear his dad, too. The Marauders, together again, in the Hogwarts grounds, where it had all begun.

I'm going to live with Sirius! He's innocent. I'm going to go and live with him. I never have to go back to the Dursleys! He forced himself to think of Sirius, and only Sirius, and began to chant, "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum…"

Black gave a shudder, rolled over and lay motionless on the grass beside Ron, who was shivering and looked pale as death in the glow of Snape's Patronus vapour. Hermione whimpered, and collapsed with a thump. The Dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. They formed a solid wall around Harry and Snape, were getting closer…

Beside him, Snape had raised his wand, was murmuring the same incantation. A ghostly form appeared, tall and elegant but intangible as smoke, and started to canter around them all, forcing the Dementors to halt. Its presence seemed to pour strength and comfort into him like a hot cup of tea, and he gripped his wand tighter, determined to do his part.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he bellowed, trying to block his mother's screams. "Stop it, Mum!" He felt Snape bristle beside him, as he kneaded his head. The intangible shape glowing as it cantered around them faltered, disappeared.

"No! EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A thin wisp of silver mist appeared and hovered like mist before him, nothing compared to even Snape's incorporeal Patronus. "Expecto Patronum!" The effect of the Dementors hit him like a Basilisk tail to the sternum, crippling him; beside him, Snape collapsed to the ground with a loud thump. Panting, Harry tried to hold on to the idea of living with Sirius - He's going to be okay, I'm going to live with him! "Expecto Patronum!"

He sank to his knees, panting and sweating, exhausted. By the feeble light of his Patronus, he saw one Dementor pause, very near to him. It couldn't walk through the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak, made a gesture as if to sweep the mist away.

"No - no - " Harry gasped. "He's innocent…expecto - expecto patronum…"

He could feel them watching him, hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around them. The nearest Dementor seemed to be considering something. Then it raised both its rotting hands - and lowered its hood. Harry tried to scream, couldn't.

Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, grey, scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth - a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death-rattle.

A paralysing terror filled Harry as nothing ever had. His Patronus flickered and died. He collapsed over Ron. White fog was blinding him, and he was paralysed to scream, to react, to do anything but grip Sirius' arm tightly as scabbed hands reached for his godfather, lifting him by his shoulders…the sound of the death-rattle grew so loud it pained his ears, as the Dementors joined in a frenzy.

"Noooooo!"

Violent blue-white light exploded, illuminating everything in furious detail; the Dementors…were fleeing. The air was growing warm again, the sucking sounds of the Dementors were fading, and Sirius sighed weakly beside him, as Ron shuddered and Snape twitched and even unconscious, Hermione whimpered.

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Harry raised his head a few inches and saw an animal amidst the light, galloping around them once, twice, and paused, as someone approached, their features distorted by shadows and light cast by the Patronus. Eyes blurred with sweat, he tried to make out what animal the Patronus was…something huge, and antlered…he got only the impression of skinniness and untidy black hair from the person, as he struggled to remain conscious.

He looked strangely familiar…but he couldn't be…

The figure reached for Sirius, trying to jostle him awake. Hooves thundered toward them, and over the noise, Harry barely heard a low voice said, "Padfoot…"

Harry didn't understand. He didn't want to think anymore. The last of his strength left him, and Harry collapsed.

A.N.: So Pettigrew was caught; and Sirius escaped being Kissed by the Dementors. I wondered, how different might things have been if Pettigrew had been discovered as the traitor. Also I was hugely inspired, I think everyone was, by Theseus and Leta. Regardless of the upcoming films which will no doubt explore Leta's past and Theseus' future, I've already decided that Theseus becomes the wizard-equivalent of Winston Churchill later in life, and resembles Charles Dance as Tywin Lannister in badassness, with that commanding voice.