DA2-5

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related materials are property of J.K. Rowling. I, on the other hand am Elmer J. Fudd, Miwwionheir. I own a mansion and a yacht.

Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 5

Though he was Loathe to admit it, Damon Forester was exhausted. Normally, he could go several days and not feel any worse for his lack of sleep. The events of the past few days, however, had him a bit overwhelmed.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed with the canopy closed, and nothing covering his bare skin except a sheet bunched around his waist, Damon worked to put himself into a restful trance. Nothing would feel better to him at that moment than the idea of sleeping for a week. The problem was, he'd spent a sleepless night rescuing a tortured member of the remainder of his family, and he had to be up for classes in less than an hour.

Moments went by, and Damon felt his breathing and heartbeat slow. Muscles all over his body began to relax one by one as the young druid let the past twenty-four hours, and the events that led to them, play through his head again.

Ten years earlier, Damon's parents had been killed, and his godfather framed for their betrayal and murder. The person who had caused such tragedy hadn't been some faceless minion of the Dark Lord, rather a trusted and dear friend, Peter Pettigrew. The traitor vanished, faking his own death to seal the fate of Sirius Black.

Peter continued to watch the wizarding world, however, looking for any sign that his fallen master might return. He allowed himself to be taken as a pet by young Percy Weasley, and had been passed on, brother to brother, until he was given to Ron. Wormtail's ruse had worked until Damon, actually seeing the rat for the first time, recognised him for what he truly was.

Damon captured Peter and used an ancient charm to coax a confession from the traitor's lips. Hearing the full story of his parent's betrayal that Halloween night so many years ago, it was all Damon could do to restrain himself from killing the rat. It was his own inner struggle, however, that nearly allowed Harry to do what vengeance demanded.

Saving the traitor's life had been one of the hardest things Damon had ever done. The twisted little man deserved nothing better than slow and very painful death. If nothing else had mattered, Damon would have done it right there, interfering friends or not. The only problem being that another's life depended on Peter's continued existence.

Pettigrew was the key to Sirius Black's freedom. A confession from the rat would exonerate Damon's godfather and allow Wormtail to take his place in Azkaban. Rather than going straight to the headmaster, however, Damon transported the rat and himself to Forester Manor, bringing him before Merrill. The reaction of Damon's grandfather to the news was surprising, to say the least.

CRASH!

Another bookcase collapsed as Merrill magically threw Peter, yet again, against a wall of the Library.

"Traitor," Merrill spat at the broken little man lying on a pile of torn books. "Filth, you betrayed your dearest friends – my granddaughter… for what? Did your Dark Lord offer you power?" A sweep of the old druid's arm sent Wormtail against the far wall with bone crushing force. "Was it money?" Again, Peter took flight, this time to crash into the fireplace, where flames licked at his exposed flesh. "Was it for your life, Peter?" Merrill hissed, still audible, even over the rat's screams. A flick of one hand sent Peter on a mad slide across the floor, and into the leg of a table. A thin, battered stick fell off it and onto Peter's chest, his wand.

New energy seemed to run through Wormtail as he recognised a chance at escape. Clasping the wand in his battered hand, only two of those fingers remained intact and unbroken; he raised it toward the old druid as he tried to clear his head.

"Going to curse me, traitor?" hissed Merrill in scorn. Suddenly his voice became much softer as he approached the rat. "I am going to kill you, you know. Something slow and quite painful I assure you. If I have anything to say about it, you'll not leave this room alive. This is it then, the only way you'll live to see the dawn is if I die. Curse me traitor. Kill me like you did my family!"

Merrill closed his eyes and opened his arms as if awaiting the embrace of a long lost love. Peter, afraid it was some kind of trap, but sure he'd get no other chance at escape, gathered his courage and stuttered "Av… Avada Kedavra!" The words rang through the air and Peter waited for the expected rush of power he felt every time he cast the spell. He continued waiting for a long moment, till he realized it hadn't come. Confused, Peter cast it again, still without result. Fear gripped the rat's heart anew as Merrill dropped his arms and glared at him again with a predatory smile.

Not wanting to face the strange and frightening wizard again, Peter tried to Apparate. It wasn't that the room was warded against it, Peter knew how that felt. It was if the power to do so had fled him. Seeking escape another way, he tried to transform into his animagus shape. That too, eluded him. A look of horror crept across Wormtail's face as he realized, "my magic…."

"It's gone," finished Merrill with relish. "For a time, anyway, you're nothing better than a muggle." Closing the distance between them smoothly, and taking Peter's face in his hands, Merrill purred in the rat's ear, "I need to know everything you've done for your master, every betrayal, every sick errand and report. Look at me Peter – look into my eyes."

Watching the whole scene from a doorway, Damon stood in awe and not a little fear of his grandfather's power. The rat whimpered and twitched, then screamed as Merrill forcefully sifted through fifteen to twenty years of memories. The druid took Peter back to the first moment where jealousy of his friends had begun turning to hate.

Damon didn't know exactly what his grandfather was seeing in the rat's mind, in all honesty, he didn't care. Whatever demons had driven Pettigrew to commit his heinous acts, he had allowed them to do so. After nearly half hour, Peter's hoarse screams faded away, and Merrill released the rat, who fell in a boneless heap at his feet. Casting a quick spell, Merrill changed Pettigrew back into his animagus form and placed him in a conjured cage.

"Get your cloak."

Merrill didn't explain where they were going, he really didn't have to. Sirius Black was Damon's godfather, and therefore family. Both of them had lost too much to allow Sirius to remain a prisoner in that hellish place.

Twenty minutes later, the two druids stood invisibly in an Azkaban prison cell. Silently casting several wards and glamours to hide their presence, Merrill negated their invisibility and raised both the light and temperature in the room.

"Sirius Black, we need to talk."

The hunched form on the floor flinched a bit at the sound of human voices. Slowly pushing himself to a sitting position, Black glared at the two intruders in his cell. Using the momentary silence created by their little standoff, Damon studied his godfather.

Ten years in Azkaban had left its mark on Sirius. The wizard was dirty, pale and gaunt. Long greasy black hair hung wildly about his face, while a ragged cough racked his too-thin body. Sirius wore a tattered striped prison uniform that barely sufficed as a covering, much less providing any protection from the elements.

"I've finally lost it then," grunted Black. "Ten years of trying to hold on to my sanity, and now I've gone starkers."

With a snort, Merrill conjured a table with three chairs. On it was a loaf of bread, cheese, and a pitcher of water.

"Have a seat, Black," Merrill said lightly. "Mad or not, I've some questions for you."

Keeping a suspicious eye on the two cloaked figures, Sirius poked at the stool before him as if it would vanish at any moment. Feeling the solid wood under his hand, Sirius grudgingly admitted to himself that he wasn't imagining it, and levered himself onto the stool.

Waiting until he was seated, the two cloaked forms sat down across the table from him and lowered their hoods. Sirius gasped when he got a close look at the shorter of the two.

A child!

'Nobody so young should have to see the inside of Azkaban.' Sirius thought as he studied the boy carefully; The boy had a mane of shaggy brown hair and blue eyes that seemed so old…. Sirius knew he'd never seen the boy before, but there was something so familiar about him. The old man, though, gave him the creeps.

At first glance, the old man resembled Dumbledore quite a bit. He had the same long white hair and beard, though trimmed neatly. His face was weathered, ancient and ageless; the man could say he was anywhere from seventy to seven hundred and Black thought he would have no trouble believing him. It was when he looked into those eyes, though, that Sirius felt a tremble of fear. The headmaster's sky-blue eyes twinkled with a mirth that put everyone at ease. This man's eyes were hard as steel, and a shade of green that he hadn't seen in ten long years.

"Eat," the old man bade him. "I need your head clear for what we need to discuss." Merrill smiled thinly as Sirius regarded the food and drink suspiciously. "If I'd wanted you dead, I wouldn't go to all this trouble. As you can see, the wards here set up to dampen magic don't affect me or my grandson." The old druid said, patting Damon's hand. "We don't mean you any harm… we just need to talk to you."

Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, Sirius tested the bread and cheese, and then attacked it with fierce abandon. It was no ordinary bread that Sirius ate, either. Elvin trail bread, or Mannam as they called it, gave a day's nourishment in a single mouthful. It tasted wonderful, and Sirius felt satisfied after just a few bites. Merrill pushed him to eat more, though, he needed much as he could get to help recover from his treatment there.

They had every intention of freeing Black from the prison, regardless of how he answered their questions, but Merrill wanted to be sure that Sirius could control his need for vengeance; to see if he was trustworthy to keep the order's secrets. For that, he didn't want the wizard's mind clouded with hunger.

"Slowly," The old druid admonished. "You aren't used to large amounts of food yet. My name is Merrill Forester," he said, introducing them as Sirius ate. "And this is my grandson, Damon. We've come here because we know you're innocent of the crime you were accused of. We know that ten years ago, James and Lilly Potter died at the hands of Lord Voldemort. You were supposed to be the secret keeper, but changed it at the last moment. The man you switched with was the traitor, Peter Pettigrew. It wasn't your fault."

"No… It was."

Leaning closer, Merrill gazed intently into Sirius' eyes and asked, "How was it your fault?"

"James…" Sirius began, choking on his own words. "James, Lilly and Harry were in Danger. Vol – Voldemort had singled them out for some reason and they had to go into hiding. Dumbledore thought it best if they stay at an order safe house in Godric's Hollow under the Fidelius. We knew there was a leak in the order, however. We didn't know who it was, but James knew… he thought he could trust me. I was to be their secret keeper."

"But you weren't," Merrill supplied. "Someone talked you out of it."

"Wormtail," Sirius spat. "He said things about Remus, they weren't lies, but the way he put it… Peter had me believing Remus was the traitor. He convinced me that Mooney would know I was secret keeper and deliver me to Voldemort." Sirius laughed bitterly and shook his head in disgust. "The little bastard convinced me to change secret keepers. Somehow it became my idea to make it him.

"When it happened, the attack, I remember suddenly knowing where the safe house was. I knew James wouldn't have cancelled the spell. The only other way it could fail is if he was…"

"You went to the house?" Merrill asked quietly.

Nodding weakly, Black continued. "When I saw the house, I knew. It was in ruins and it felt… dead. I knew that Voldemort had been here, I knew nobody could survive, but I had to go in, to see what I had done."

"Your friends?" Merrill prodded.

"James… James was at the bottom of the stairs. Merlin – the look on his face…. I wanted to die right then with him, but then I heard Harry."

"Your friend's son."

"My godson. I could hear him crying upstairs. I didn't know how, but he'd survived. I'd hoped for a moment that maybe they both had."

"Lily," the old druid whispered.

"She was on the floor in front of the crib. Her hair was spread out about her head in waves. Her eyes, her beautiful green eyes…" Sirius choked back a small sob "I had a thing for her in school, I could never have told James. It broke my heart when they fell in love but I was happy for them too. This…"

"Voldemort must have killed her to get to Harry. I didn't know that You-Know-Who had disappeared and I was clueless why Harry had survived. I only knew that he was crying and reaching up to be held. I picked him up and got us out of that house as fast as I could."

"Harry was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. You were his godfather, why did you leave him?" Merrill asked with great intensity, as he stared into the convict's eyes.

"I… When we got outside the house, Hagrid was there. He said that Dumbledore had sent him to look for survivors. I should've stayed with Harry, I should've…. It was my fault though; I needed to take my anger out on someone, so I went after Peter. I gave Harry to Hagrid and left. I found Peter on a street filled with muggles when I found him. He began raving at how I'd betrayed James and Lily. In hindsight, I should have known what he was doing, but he'd always been so – weak and slow. Peter used a blasting curse on the street, and there was an explosion. I was laying half stunned as he almost casually cut off his own finger then changed into the rat and ducked into a storm drain."

Sirius dropped his head onto the table, unable to meet Merrill's hard gaze. He knew they had to hate him as much as he did himself. He was surprised, then, when he felt a small hand take hold of his. Looking up, he gazed into the intense and almost tearful eyes of Damon.

"You didn't betray them," the young druid said earnestly. "Peter deceived you all." For ten years, Sirius had blamed himself for what had happened to his friends. It was a truth that had tortured him every moment of his life since. The look on this young boy's face, a child that was likely the same age as his godson, felt like an absolution. The guilt and shame that Sirius had carried around with him since his friends deaths poured out of him in a flow of tears.

They all sat there wordlessly as Sirius slowly collected himself after his emotional release. Merrill, coming to the real reason behind their visit, asked. "If you could get out of this prison tonight, what would you do?

"Pettigrew…. Peter caused all this," growled Black dazedly. "I'd hunt him down and tear him to pieces!"

"Really," the old druid whispered. "You'd get your revenge and finally earn your cell in Azkaban… What about Harry?"

The predatory gleam that had begun to glow in Sirius' eyes blinked out of existence at his godson's name. "Harry."

"You know that you'd go straight back to Azkaban once you were caught; Harry would have no family left what so ever."

"But Peter…."

"What is more important to you Black, Revenge or Harry?"

"I couldn't face him," Sirius whispered. I've failed him every way possible. If he's lucky, maybe he'll never even know I exist."

Damon's grip on Sirius' hand became painful as the young druid held on tightly. "Don't you think that he'd want to know you? Harry doesn't have a lot of family left, and nobody that was closely tied to his parents as you."

As Damon spoke, things about his appearance began to change. The shaggy mane of sandy brown hair on his head darkened to a pitch black. His deep blue eyes shifted colour, slowly turning to an emerald green. Finally, a lightning bolt scar seemed to climb from under his collar, up the side of his face, to find a home on the boy's forehead.

"Harry needs you," Damon said as he stepped around the table to stand at his godfather's side. "I need you."

Falling off the stool, Sirius knelt in front of Damon and reached out to touch the boy's cheek. He stopped just before he would have made contact, though. 'It has to be a trick of the dementors,' he thought to himself deliriously, some torture dreamed up by his jailors.

Reaching up, Damon took Sirius' hand and gently placed it against his cheek. They stood there for an endless moment, caught in each other's gaze. Seemingly unable to take a full breath, Black's chest heaved with emotion. Taking a small step forward, Damon pulled his godfather into a tight embrace. Sirius held the boy gingerly at first. Holding his 'Harry' tighter as the moments passed, until Damon's ribs creaked. Desperate sobs came from Sirius as he buried his face in the crook of his godson's neck.

Looking up at his grandfather as Sirius cried into his shoulder, Damon blinked away his own tears and nodded slightly to his mentor.

At the young druid's signal, Merrill drew out a tiny mouse and softly cast a spell, "Leathchulpa Gan Anam." A soft, silvery glow surrounded Sirius first, and then a tendril of the light snaked out and attached itself to the mouse. The tiny form seemed unaffected at first, and then it slowly began to shift and grow. Taking on human proportions, the changeling took form and features of the convict. Hearing a noise, Sirius looked up into the blank eyes of his double.

"What is that?" Damon's godfather gasped.

"A changeling," explained Merrill patiently as he guided the 'new' Sirius to sit on the straw mat. "The faeries used this spell when they stole the babes of peasants. The changeling would look the same as the original child, but would be essentially mindless. That was more than a thousand years ago, however. After the ministry came to power, the faerie population was forced stay inside their magical forests, and abductions ceased. It's doubtful anybody remembers even hearing of this spell, much less recognising a duplicate created by using it."

"I'm no baby," growled Sirius with a grin, feeling a little of his old spirit returning with Harry in his arms.

"Quite right, still, our vacant friend will serve his purpose and make it look like you finally went nutters in here."

"I don't look like that," barked Sirius, running his hands self-consciously through his greasy, unkempt hair. "How long will this thing last, anyway?"

"Two or three years," answered Damon as he studied Merrill's creation critically. "If the magic runs out before the mouse dies, then the changeling will just disappear, and all that will be left is the mouse. If the mouse dies first, then they'll probably bury what they think is your body in the Azkaban cemetery." Looking up to his grandfather, Damon took on a confused look and asked, "But why bother with all this, Granddad? We could have Sirius cleared tomorrow."

"I want him cleared too, lad." Merrill answered, ruffling the boy's hair. Sirius, totally lost, just looked between the two in confusion. "Voldemort is going to rise again soon, if not this year, then before you leave school. We need to know what both sides are planning in this war if we're going to do what's necessary.

Knowing what Dumbledore is planning will be easy, he'll have Ha… James and likely Ron as his best friend, inside the headmaster's little order. Pettigrew was trying to become Voldemort's favourite lackey when everything fell apart. You have to admit, using him to spy on his Dark Lord would be a bit of poetic justice."

"Wait…" Sirius broke in. "What about Peter?" His face darkened as realization dawned. "You know where he is!"

"We can talk about this at the manor," answered Merrill in a commanding tone. "There's quite a lot we need to discuss, and there are better places to do it. Damon, change back and we'll be on our way." Placing a hand on each of their shoulders, Merrill whispered a quiet spell and the three vanished, along with the table, chairs and all the protections that had kept the cell secure.

Lying alone on the floor, the figure on the floor stared off into space. The room grew dark and cold again, the silence only broken by occasional thunder and a hollow racking cough.

"Damon!" Terry, anxious to start is first day of classes, ripped open the drapes of his new friend's bed, to find him sitting up cross legged, his hands on his knees. Damon's eyes were closed and he was bare chested, with the covers bunched up around his waist. Terry shifted uncomfortably on his feet; uncertain what was going on, or how long his friend had been sitting like that. His gaze was drawn to his friend's bare chest, and he was intrigued by how muscular the other boy was. That, along with a variety of scars that decorated Damon's skin only raised more questions in the young Ravenclaw's mind.. Only a few moments went by before the young druid opened his eyes and smiled at his friend.

"Morning."

"It's time for breakfast," said Terry excitedly, snapping out of his stare. "Classes start today too. Did you want to go down to breakfast together? I bet Mandy is down in the common room now; she's an early riser like me. Are you an early riser? What were you doing in bed just now? Where did you get all those scars? Why does the one on your shoulders look like claws? I got clawed by my sister's cat once but it was little. Are you ready to go downstairs yet?"

Damon gaped at his new friend for a moment and couldn't stifle a giggle. "Of course, I'll go with you; yes I'm an early riser; I was meditating; Grandfather and I go hunting a lot and a big cat scratched me; and finally, yeah I'll be ready to go down as soon as I get dressed," Damon answered all Terry's as best he could as he jumped out from under the covers to get his clothes. "Maybe you should get dressed too, unless you're going to the Great Hall in your pyjamas." Blushing, Terry scampered over to his own trunk to prepare for the day.

Ten minutes later, the three Ravenclaw first years were walking into the great Hall while the boys argued about Quidditch with Cho. "Marsters is the best seeker in the UK," the second year said, waving her arms in the air. "How can you possibly think the Tornadoes could lose to the Cannons!"

"I didn't say that they would," answered Damon as they sat down at their table. "It's just that the Tornado's defence is kind of weak. The Cannon's beaters don't only work at keeping the other team's chasers busy, they go after the seeker too. Marsters will be spending so much time dodging Bludgers; he'll never have time to find the Snitch..."

Damon continued arguing with Cho all through breakfast, at the same time, he was scanning the Great Hall for his other friends. Draco was at the Slytherin table, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Though playing the part of a pampered git, Damon could See Draco's eyes darting left and right, gauging the other's expressions as he made some of his more outrageous comments about muggleborns. Catching his eyes for a moment, they shared the barest nods. Moving on, Damon scanned the Gryffindor table for his other two friends.

Ron and Harry sat with their new housemates, laughing at some story being told by a boy with a thick Irish brogue. Ron seemed fine, but the smile on Harry's face never quite reached his eyes. Damon made a decision to get Harry and Sirius together as soon as possible, after his godfather had recovered somewhat and completely understood what was going on. He and his grandfather had spent most of the early morning hours trying to explain to Sirius about Harry and the fact that he was just as much James' son as Damon was. Sirius still hadn't gotten his head around it, however, and Merrill thought that any meetings between him and Harry should wait until the weekend at least.

Damon's chain of thought was broken by Professor Flitwick as the tiny man passed out their schedules.

"First period is double potions with Hufflepuff," Terry said thoughtfully as they read them over. "I'm good at them and all, but Professor Snape, doesn't he seem –"

"A bit uptight?" Damon asked in response. "I met him in Diagon Alley shopping with Draco once, Severus is his godfather. I think most of how he treats people is an act."

"Severus?" Terry squeaked. "Who's acting, Snape or Malfoy?"

"Both really, I'll introduce you to Draco if we can catch him alone. He's a totally different person away from the Slytherins.

Breakfast ended and Damon got up with his friends to get their potions supplies. Sparing a quick glance at the Gryffindor table, He could see that Harry was looking a bit better. Still, the young druid knew he would need to sit with is twin at their meeting that night for reassurance.

After retrieving their supplies and locating the potions classroom, a dank, dark room in the castle dungeons, Terry and Mandy took a table together while Damon went to sit with a Hufflepuff named Ernie Macmillan. The boy seemed likable enough, if a bit pretentious. Any chance to talk with him was interrupted, however, as the classroom door burst open.

"There will be no silly wand waving in my class," the potions-master began. Damon loved potions most of all his classes. From what he'd read, it had strayed the least from its origin thousands of years ago. He felt a real sense of accomplishment in harvesting and preparing potion ingredients, then combining them in such a way that a useful and magical potion was produced.

The class went quickly; after roll and a few questions by Snape to test their knowledge, he started them on a simple boil-removal potion. It wasn't the same one that Merrill had taught him, but it was close enough that Damon had no problems understanding how it worked.

He spent most of the next hour coaching Ernie on the correct preparation of the ingredients. The Hufflepuff looked ready to complain at first, but realized quickly that Damon knew what he was talking about. Half way through, Snape began watching them, Ernie following Damon's quiet instruction and becoming more confident as they went. Before finishing, the Ravenclaw couldn't help but make a few changes that made the potion a bit better; he hoped the potions-master wouldn't mind too much.

Nearly a quarter-hour before most of the others, Damon and Ernie were just finishing up labelling a sample of potion for grading, when Professor Snape loomed over their table. Dipping the ladle back into their cauldron, the potions-master eyed it critically.

"An adequate potion," Snape said grudgingly, but a bit off colour."

"My fault sir," Damon admitted. "I added Aloe in the base and Royal Jelly after the porcupine quills had dissolved. My grandfather makes a similar potion at home, and I know that adding them helps the skin heal better without scarring."

Frowning deeply, the Potions Master stared deeply into Damon's eyes. "That potion is over five-hundred years old. I would sincerely doubt that you could do anything to make it more efficient." Damon stared back at the Professor without blinking, while trying to keep a neutral expression. Ernie, on the other hand was having problems holding his water. "Still, the potion is made and you have my curiosity piqued. Bottle up the rest of it and bring it to my desk along with the one you have labelled. As it is, I'm taking three points from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for not following directions."

Damon was able to keep his reaction unreadable and just nodded as the professor took points. Ernie, on the other hand, squeaked, and then moaned in fear of what his housemates would say at him costing them points so early in the year. After that, Ernie refused to talk to Damon anymore, just gave him angry looks whenever their eyes met. The bell rang, a few minutes later, and everybody cleaned up their work areas and gathered their books to head to their next class, all except Damon.

Asking his friends to wait for him outside, the young druid went up to the Professor's desk and waited to be recognised.

"What is it Forester, you haven't come to try weaselling out of your lost points, I'd hope."

"No sir," Damon replied. "It's just that Ernie didn't really have anything to do with the changes to the potion; he shouldn't have had any points taken."

"How very Gryffindor of you, Mr Forester," Snape said with a sneer, though there was no real malice in his voice. "I take it then, that when you tried to add these extra ingredients, Mr Macmillan attempted to stop you?"

"No sir," Damon replied. "I don't think he realized they weren't a part of it."

"That alone should be reason for him to lose house points," Snape replied. "Do you understand how dangerous this class is Damon? Something as simple as putting porcupine quills in at the wrong time could create an explosion."

"But I do understand that professor!" Damon exclaimed. I've been studying potions under my grandfather since I was six years old!"

"Prove it to me then," the professor barked. "Give me two feet of parchment describing the components you added to the formula and their effects. If you can make me believe that you knew what you were doing, and the potions act as you say, I'll return the points I've taken and award another five on top of it."

"What about…"

"Mr Macmillan only followed your directions making the potion. He's lucky I didn't take more. If you want to keep your partners from losing points, I'd suggest you make sure they understand what you're doing."

"Yes sir, Damon answered before running from the room, he wasn't totally happy with how the conversation with Snape had gone, but it could have been worse. Meeting up with his friends, they ran all the way to History of magic together.

'Professor Binns has to be the most boring teacher in the history of the world,' the young druid thought to himself after it had ended. Merrill had told him all about the goblin rebellions somewhere around his eighth birthday. When his grandfather had told it, the battles, and even the politics behind them were exciting and had him on the edge of his seat. Five minutes into the ghost's lecture, Damon nearly fell asleep in his chair. The difference between somebody that knew history, and someone that actually lived it was never so apparent to him as it was now.

After lunch Damon had Herbology, followed by Transfiguration. The hour with Prof. Sprout went well; Damon didn't raise his hand much, but helped Terry and Mandy when they didn't understand something the Professor was saying.

Transfiguration was actually difficult for Damon. It seemed that Wanded spells were more of a problem for him than he would have thought. "It's like trying to tie your shoes wearing heavy gloves," Ron would complain later that night. Still, Damon muddled through, and actually thought it would be helpful, breezing through every class would definitely draw unwanted attention to them.

Dinner got Damon a few odd stares as he joined Ron and Harry at their table. Except for the odd look, (not a few were from Hufflepuff, as Ernie had told them what had happened with Snape) things went fine. Going back up to their tower, Damon and his friends sat in the common room doing their homework. Finally, when everybody had settled in bed, Damon snuck back down and took the secret door to the Pendragon Common Room.

Harry, who had already been there with Ron, jumped up as soon as Damon entered. "What happened last night after we left?" he demanded.

Taking Harry back to the couch, Damon sat them both down. Putting a free arm around him, Damon explained, very graphically, what Merrill had done in questioning the rat. When Damon told them about rescuing Sirius, Harry became excited, intrigued by the possibility of meeting someone that knew his parents.

"Damon," Harry asked "Last night, when you stopped me from… when you stopped me. You said that you'd make him pay for what he did to us, why did you say that?"

Glad he'd thought about his slip up the night before, Damon answered glibly. "Ever since I started living with my grandfather, I've kind of thought of you as the little brother I'd never had." Damon explained, pleased that in a way, he wasn't really lying. "When you hurt, so do I. What the rat did to you, it felt like he did to me too, you're my little brother now, and never forget that."

"You're a day younger than me," Harry said accusingly with a grin. "How did I become the little brother?"

"Because you're a midget?" Ron asked from by the fireplace, grinning madly.

"And you're a Weasel," Draco said, coming in the door. "What did I miss?"

"Not much," Damon answered. "Sirius black is at the manor recovering, Granddad is thinking of using the rat as a spy for Voldemort, and Harry is a midget."

"Stop!" laughed the raven-haired boy. "I'm not that small!"

"We start looking for potential order members in earnest, starting tomorrow," Damon went on, turning serious. "Tonight, get some sleep; it's going to be a long year."

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Leathchulpa Gan Anam: Twin without soul

I'll apologise now for how this chapter came out. I dont think its bad, maybe just not as good as you guys are used to. Oh yea, and Serius' blubbering in the cell... in my opinion, he would be immensely emotionally vulnerable then.

And sorry for the delay.

I'll do review response for the last chapter in my yahoo group tomorrow. The address is is on my bio page.