3/3

"Oh…" Sirius was wide-eyed, and entirely serious for the moment. "Well, that would do it. I suppose it's good that you know, you know. That sort of secret can be hard to maintain, and a burden halved is a burden… wait, no. A burden shared is a burden halved. That's it."

Gaara nodded, he supposed it made sense.

What he had meant to be a short visit mostly for the sake of scaring Sirius lasted more than an hour, with Sirius falling back into nostalgic reminiscence as he was prone to do. He told of how he and James (and Peter) had discovered Remus' closely guard secret and had undertaken their animagus training to join on those full moon without risking attack or infection.

As it turned out, werewolves could be trusted to play nice with their animal friends, even without the Wolfsbane Potion.

When Gaara did finally make his excuses (a nice description of what would usually be a tactful lie, not what Gaara had said: I'm leaving, you are boring me), he found Draco drinking butterbear in the Hogshead pub.

"I thought you said you were going to beat me here today? I've been waiting for half an hour."

'I got held up.' He sat down and started sipping the drink Draco had ordered him while he waited.

It was actually the second such drink, the first he had ordered had sat there while he waited and finished his own drink, so he had ended up drinking Gaara's and ordering another for his wayward friend.

That day, Harry had also snuck into Hogsmeade, using his Invisibility Cloak to follow Ron and Hermione through the village, and taking a good few minutes to quietly laugh to themselves at Draco Malfoy who had sat in the pub for twenty minutes on his own with a drink for a nonexistent friend.

Granted, their schadenfreude lasted only as long as Malfoy's solitude did. After Gaara showed up, the trio quickly departed since they had a bad habit of being caught staring by Gaara and this time they wouldn't have the entirety of the Great Hall of a professor to mitigate the awkward hostility.

The trip was uneventful for all involved, barring one sixth year girl who had had a fight with her boyfriend and had wandered to the edge of the village to cry alone. Thankfull McGonagall had sensed the shift in temperature immediately and had taken off running after the distraught girl.

Still, if the battle hardened woman had been even a minute late, she might not have been able to cast the patronus in time to save Andrea Bennet's soul.

As a result, and with a heavy heart, Dumbledore announced the indefinite suspension of weekend Hogsmeade visits until such a time as they could ensure the students' safety.

The proclamation over dinner had the expected effect, with almost every student third year and up loudly complaining about the decision. Amongst those not verbally abusing the kindly professor were a number of disinterested Ravenclaws, those like Harry who had not had their permission slips signed, Gaara for the previous two reasons and the other obvious cause for not shouting, and the friends of Miss Bennet, who had been called away from the girl's hospital bedside for dinner.

Gaara wasn't that upset about the restriction, being that he wasn't allowed to go anyway, but this latest attack was yet more proof of the dementor threat. Even worse, Sirius had hinted at his increasing frenzy. The man was becoming impatient like never before, panicking that he would lose his chance over the summer, or the dementor patrols would catch him before then.

With those patrols moving closer to the edge of the Hogwarts boundary and further into Hogsmeade, it would only be a matter of time until they were regularly passing by the Shack. Sirius could hide as a dog for a limited time, but eventually they would catch him out.

Gaara decided that evening that he would forgo his research for the time being and focus entirely on finding Wormtail over the next couple of months.

If the rat was in the school, Gaara was going to find him.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"He's in your gourd?" Lupin asked, caught between amused and alarmed.

Gaara nodded, not proud of the part he was playing.

"You've done this before, though."

Gaara nodded again. It was much easier this time, sneaking Sirius onto the grounds. The Shrieking Shack passage had made his visiting the agitated criminal many times easier, and then carrying him back into the school that many time simpler too. However, with the increase in turn out from politicians, families and the like, subsequent security increases, and the unprecedented number of student spectators, the stadium was filled to its magical capacity, and it was only by the grace of the kindly Professor Lupin that Gaara had been able to get in at all.

Sadly, he did not have ample space to set up a viewing box for Sirius and he again, instead Sirius would have to kneel or sit as a dog in the gourd and watch over Gaara's shoulder.

It was the first time, in the crowded stands, that Gaara had ever gotten a truly dirty look for carrying his gourd with him. Apparently the other teenagers around him didn't appreciate the oversized container pushing against them.

Gaara noticed that in the stands next to Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and Lucius was Minister Cornelius Fudge.

He actually asked himself if killing the bumbling politician would help Sirius' or his own situation at all. The answer he came to was no, it would probably worsen at least Sirius' situation, his being the likely prime suspect and all.

Still, a boy could dream…

Draco's nerves had convinces Gaara that the blond should never hold a high-stress job since the boy fell to pieces when the expectations of those around him manifested openly. Another reason Gaara had been late picking Sirius up and thus late to the stadium was that he had to coax Draco out of their room and towards the changing room before the game.

He'd thought it before and he would do so again, Draco would make a terrible shinobi. Imagine if he were assigned to assassinate somebody…

Still, being as important a game as Gaara understood it to be, he hadn't even bothered to bring a book for when he inevitably got bored of the sport, instead he would suffer the lengthy game in silence, and perhaps meditate with his eyes open in the middle. These games were the one time he prayed for the dementors to attack the children.

Just some purposeful excitement to interrupt the monotonous passing of the ball, flying around (on stupid and dangerous flying contraptions), and then so-called impressive acrobatic displays.

If they did these movements without the brooms, Gaara might have been impressed.

Gaara had been very firm with Sirius that the man/dog was not to howl, scream, cheer or make any noise (supportive or not) during the match, and that if he did Gaara would leave and take Sirius home. Sirius had been properly cowed, luckily, as it was a largely empty threat.

Gaara couldn't possibly risk Draco noticing he'd left.

It bugged him that the Minister of Magic had brought with him a number of 'Aurors' to protect him, including a few Lupin had indicated were specialists from Azkaban.

Fudge didn't care when it was just children and teachers out here, but when he might be at risk of a stray dementor or two, he brought an extra dozen wranglers for his own protection.

He was worse than the Daimyo.

Being as tense as they were, as soon as Hooch released the different balls and blew the whistle, every player on a broom flew into a frenzy, flying in rapid and aerobatic manoeuvres, trying to start with the upper hand.

Gaara watched only Draco as the blond finished his initial sweep of the stadium's airspace, and settled high up, on the far side of the area to his father and the other VIPs. He looked panicked already, his head moving around rapidly. Gaara thought his friend was going to give himself whiplash.

The quaffle was passed around as energetically as it ever had been, goals being scored on either side within ten minutes of commencement.

All the while, Gaara's eyes glazed over.

Inside of his mindscape, he headed down into the cave where he knew he could find his foul mouthed and tempered tenant stapled to the wall.

As expected, he found Shukaku on the wall, no longer screaming without respite, only occasionally yelling an expletive at his neglectful host.

"Well, look who we have here. The crown prince has descended to talk to us poor demons. What do I owe this pleasure to, oh tiny one?"

"I need to check if the seal has changed again."

"Why, do you think it's to do with your ugly, scratchy voice coming back?" The giant sand tanuki spoke with such glee and malice, Gaara knew he wouldn't get a single straight answer out of the monster, no matter that the biju might know exactly what was happening.

The seal itself was exactly as it had been the last time he had bothered to bodily come down here. He hadn't expected any different. Shukaku would have almost certainly alerted him to any changes, whether more comforting or painful, if they had taken place.

Gaara didn't stay long in his mind, the company of his demon even less appealing than staring into the sky to watch his friend waste precious hours and energy chasing flying orbs around. He didn't bother saying good bye to the ill-mannered tanuki, disappearing without warning to look out of his own eyes again.

Sure enough, the brooms were still flying and Gaara was stuck there. Every now and then there would be a sudden flurry of activity and the announcer would declare that one of the teams had scored another ten points (more often than not being Slytherin in this match).

He could feel Sirius banging on his gourd, obviously suppressing his cheers of angry exclamations whenever Gryffindor did anything, or one of the Slytherin players were less than gentlemanly.

That was one thing Gaara appreciated about Draco in these matches, he played by the same sportsmanlike rules and etiquette as his opponent. While doing that in battle was foolhardy and proud, doing so in a straight contest was honourable.

Or so he gathered from one of Rock Lee's numerous impassioned speeches about his sensei.

With that in mind, it was a little painful to watch the obvious difference in natural athletic ability between Draco and Harry Potter. Or, more so, Potter's eyes were clearly better at tracking the elusive snitch than Draco's, whereas the Slytherin was probably a little more physically able. But in a game where their purpose was to track and catch a small, almost invisible flying sphere around a rather large area, Harry's eyes had the edge on Draco's minor athletic advantage.

The match was the longest Gaara had been to, and was in fact the most protracted of the year's season, which made it feel immeasurably longer to the suffering teen amongst the throngs of cheering peers. He had taken to full meditation, staying out of his mindscape and going deeper to a dream-like state in order to escape the mind-numbing monotony of what others championed as the height of excitement.

He was only jostled out of his not-quite-thoughts when the people surrounding him had taken to jumping and screaming at the top of their lungs. Gaara would not have believed beforehand that they had been using anything but the full extent of their lung capacities.

Now back in reality, he looked around to see why the ruckus had escalated: the game was over and had been called. He was briefly confused as he was in the Slytherin section of the stands, and all around him were celebrating whereas the Gryffindors were looking much less enthused. This would have been self-explanatory were it not for the absolutely sullen look on Draco's face that Gaara could see from dozens of metres away.

As it transpired, Slytherin had soared ahead in the points and had managed to accrue 230 compared to Gryffindor's modest 70. Slytherin had the broom advantage still, and their beaters had been on top form, sabotaging many attempts at the lion's scoring through the hoops.

It also helped that they had managed to disable their captain/keeper Oliver Wood and the chaser Alicia Spinnet. They substituted in for the positions, but obviously the team were weakened because of it.

With all of the point scoring going on, one-sidedly perhaps, the seekers had been entirely ignorant of all of it. The only measure of time the two boys had was their straining and cramping muscles as they went from staying still to sprinting at top speed to where they had caught glimpse of a flash of gold. A few times this ended up being a Gryffindor uniform to both of their ire.

Finally, Harry had spotted the Snitch closer to him than Draco, and his proximity and head start ensured that within second he had caught the Snitch, ended the match and elicited the mixed cheers from all around. The lions cheered their seeker's ability and symbolic victory, while the snakes cheered for their victory. The particularly Quiddictch-obsessed among them had also worked out that Slytherin, as a consequence of their points in this and their other games, had just won the Quidditch Cup.

Gaara felt very sorry for Draco, whose team had just won the Cup no thanks to him. He would have to think of something nice to do for his friend, or at least something that would serve to distract the distraught teenager.

Speaking of distractions, he would need to start making his way through the crowds if he was to be there to intercept Lucius before he could spirit Draco away for a 'private word.' He didn't need to see across the vast field to know what expression Lucius was liable to be wearing on his face at the present moment.

He was working against the dense mass of people, most of which were taller than him, who wanted to stay and cheer a little longer at their team. He eventually made his way through the forest of torsos until he finally met with a gap and was able to move behind the students to the exit. Once outside, he ran straight for the changing rooms, halfway around the stadium. By the time he was nearing it, the other children were starting to leave the stands and make their ways back inside or towards the changing rooms as well.

He stood guard outside of the door, more vigilant against his friend's father than the nosey teenagers or one or two grown men with cameras. He been told, at length, the dangers of the press in this country (world) and the power of the camera. It had come up after he had almost attacked a short Gryffindor boy who had taken his picture.

He hadn't known that his picture was being taken, only that someone had run up to him with as box in front of their face and then shined a bright light in his eyes. In retrospect, Gaara believed he had heard of cameras in his world, after a fashion, but he had never seen one nor had he been photographed by one.

He had never needed a shinobi ID since everyone in his own village knew precisely who he was and Suna hadn't wanted to broadcast the face of their Jinchūriki (especially before the ill-fated war against Konoha.)

Still, now that he was watching these men wielding their cameras like overeager genin ordered to ambush an animal, he wondered whether he should not have dismissed Draco's warnings about these 'paparazzi' offhand.

The bulbs started flashing as soon as Mr Malfoy strode around into view, followed by the perpetually red-faced Minister Fudge, and the handful of aurors guarding them. Gaara ducked into the changing rooms ahead of them, and looked around for Draco, who was the only one not smiling or getting changed.

By the way he hung his head in shame, Gaara wondered if Draco might have even worse self-esteem issues than some Jinchūriki...

With the approaching palaver, Gaara went straight to Draco's side and then stared straight at both Fudge and Lucius when they entered, daring the latter to come near Draco.

Both the gentlemen offered their congratulations, along with Snape and Dumbledore who entered after who did likewise. The team were duly awed by the Minister of Magic visiting them personally after the game.

"Well, I must say that was one of the most exciting Quidditch matches I have seen outside of the professional circuit." Fudge proclaimed, enunciating clearly for the man with the quill and pad of paper. "You have done your school and your country proud today."

Dumbledore stayed well back, not wishing to upstage the politician with his own grandiose words of congratulation.

"I wish I could be there to present you with your trophy, but I am afraid running magical Britain must come first. Treasure your hard earned victory and rest ahead of next year; though, I expect I will see a number of you at the World Cup this summer. I'm sure any of you could be inspired to enter into professional Quidditch, if you do not have any more pressing ambitions."

The Slytherin team were all exceptionally excited despite the hours they had been exerting themselves, and in the ruckus Gaara guided Draco over to the showers where he might freshen up and avoid his father. Gaara waited out in the changing room, but didn't get any strange looks beyond the one from Fudge.

Lucius lingered after Fudge had left only a moment to see Draco was in the showers, and left looking contemptuous and frustrated. There would most definitely be a stern letter to follow.

It was the better part of an hour later that Draco was ready to go back to the castle and forgo dinner. They were almost upon the castle, not a word being spoke between them, that Gaara remembered he still had the most wanted man in Britain still trapped inside of his gourd. He gave serious thought to just keeping the mangy man in there for the time being, to keep him out of trouble and away from witnesses, but he wasn't sure he could be trusted to look after a pet.

He would most likely forget to feed his captive.

He told Draco to go on to their room, and he darted back to the Whomping Willow to release the sweating, dehydrated, and disorientated convict.

When said convict glared at him, trying to catch his breath, the only thing Gaara could think to write was 'Good game?'

That evening while the rest of their House were celebrating, Draco had elected to stay in his room, lamenting his failure.

Gaara had half-heartedly tried to argue that without Draco's efforts, Potter would have caught the snitch too early and Slytherin would have lost the match and then their point count wouldn't have been enough to secure the Cup.

"So I'm a stall tactic." Draco was pretending to read a book, but unless he was trying to mimic Luna's ability to read upside down, he was probably just trying to look nonchalant.

Gaara was actually reading, happy to stay out of the party raging amongst the other Slytherins.

'His eyes are better than yours. It was a bad match up.' Gaara wrote, thinking how else he could cheer Draco up without lying. 'If you trained more, you might beat him next time.'

Draco's eyes shot wide at that one word, "No, no, that's okay. I don't need any more training, I think. Potter's just better than me. Perfect, popular, powerful, Potter."

Gaara wanted to deny any of that, but other than the 'perfect,' they all had a ring of truth. Draco wasn't deficient in any of those regards, but he was behind Potter in many aspects.

'I didn't know you wanted to be like Potter so much.'

"What?! I don't want to be like Potter. I want to be as far from like Potter as possible!" Draco declared.

'Then you might want to focus on another sport. Or get better at Quidditch. And you are smarter than him.' He didn't need to hesitate in that compliment. Potter was a bit of a dunce, all things considered.

"So I might as well be a Ravenclaw." Draco lamented.

Gaara thought back to times when he had been told about these sorts of tantrums. One particular tale came to mind, set in that small Wave country. Following his more upbeat blond friend's example, he walked up to Draco, and punched him on the top of the head.

Not hard enough to knock him out, but Draco did yell and clutch his now aching skull.

"What the hell was that for?!"

'Stop acting like a brat.'

He would have thought of something inspirational to say following the braining, but Gaara was still a student of social life, so he let his comment hang in the air (figuratively speaking).

"I'm not acting like a brat. Just leave me alone, for God's sake!"

Gaara shook his head and sat back where he had been reading. He knew Draco was trapped here because he didn't want to emerge into the party going on right outside their door and didn't want to storm off into the bathroom like a crying teenage girl.

So instead he nursed the soft spot on the top of his head and mourned his ill fate.

The rest of the night was chilly to say the least, and Draco didn't deign to speak again, so the two moved about in silence during their morning routines. Draco quickly headed out as soon as he was ready, clearly still upset about how Gaara had acted the day before. Gaara, for his part, was trying to figure out what he was supposed to have done differently.

Maybe he should have smiled at some point? Maybe shouting was required.

He skipped breakfast, missing the entire Slytherin table warmly welcoming their seeker who they trumpeted as their salvation, allowing them to rack up enough points to not only beat their rivals but take the Cup again. Draco avoided answering questions as to why he had skipped the party last night, and the ever-tactful House knew not to pry into one of their own and their bad moods.

Draco's mood dipped even further after the morning post had been delivered and he had read through the short missive from his father threatening to have him pulled from the team if he didn't do better next time. He would not allow a Malfoy to make a fool of himself.

At lunch, Gaara was feeling hungry, but wanted to stay away from Draco until he could figure out his next move. He was saved by the unlikely hero of Luna, who showed up carrying a basket and an offer of a picnic.

"Good afternoon, Gaara. Would you like some lunch?"

Gaara weighed up his options. He was very hungry, but this course would require that he sit and eat with Luna, who was still taking every opportunity to discuss the form he so reviled. His stomach won out and he nodded, following as she strode out onto the sunny grounds. It was one of the warmest days he could remember having since he arrived in this world, so it was a pleasant enough day to eat in the otherwise unforgiving elements.

"I haven't seen you in the Great Hall since dinner the night before last, so I thought you might be hungry." She explained, forgoing a blanket and sitting straight on the dry grass.

Gaara nodded.

"You're avoided Draco, aren't you."

Gaara nodded again.

"You've been avoiding me as well."

Gaara thought for a second. He slowly nodded.

"I thought as much. People usually avoid me. Ginny does it every now and then, especially if she's with her other friends. I think I embarrass her." When Gaara looked up at her, she continued, "I don't think you care what other people think. You just don't like talking about yourself very much. That's okay."

For a person just wilfully admitting her only two friends both ditched her because they didn't want to be seen with her or didn't want to talk to her, Luna was remarkably unfazed.

"Have you thought about trying to learn how to become an animagus?" Luna said, taking out some plates and sandwiches, both of which Gaara quickly accepted.

He thought about what she had said before. She knew he had been avoiding her because of these conversations and yet that was the first thing she wanted to talk about. She was either mistakenly placed in Ravenclaw, or she was sticking to her convictions…

Impressive, and terribly frustrating.

Though, she did raise an interesting question.

'Animagus?'

"Yes, so that you might control your transformations. I don't know if it would work, and you would need to find a teacher willing to help you, but it might be worth trying. At least until you find a way to go home.

"Professor McGonagall is a cat animagus, but Professor Lupin could probably get you started since you know him best."

Gaara thought about this. His best bet with a teacher would undoubtedly be Remus, but Sirius would be able to take him much further since he would be speaking from experience. Then again, the thought of Sirius as a teacher was enough to bring a wry smile to his face, briefly.

'I'll think about it. I am busy with another task at the moment.'

"Oh. Okay." Anyone else would have been unable to let the matter rest, needing to know more about the vague statement, but true to strange form, Luna let the matter drop. "How fast can you run when you've transformed?"

Gaara heaved a great sigh. Maybe he should just give up and resign himself to these conversations. Eventually, even the bookend girl would run out of questions and thought regarding him other form. Right?

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

After the last class of the day let out, History of Magic which had gotten everyone ready for a relaxed, nap-filled evening, Gaara followed after a person he wouldn't have ever thought to follow before. Weasley was the peculiar mix of hostile and dull that made him a very unappealing stalking candidate. Not that Gaara was following that particular person by choice.

His thinking was that eventually Wormtail would try to re-establish contact with the youngest Weasley boy, before the summer holidays came and the rat was stranded in the surrounded castle with no escape or protection.

This had led to the distasteful task of following the rat's owner whenever possible, if not to catch the rat in the return then to ascertain exactly when Ron had reacquired his pet. Following him on the rare occasions that he was one his own was child's play, but when the other two were with him it was actually something of a challenge in the long straight hallways of the castle.

Ron was comically oblivious, but Hermione and Potter were both far more aware of their surroundings. Still, he wasn't a shinobi for nothing, so he made do.

Sadly, all of this meant nothing when Ron was still loudly complaining that his rat was missing, and that Hermione's pet cat had probably eaten it.

The possibility would have made Gaara sick had Sirius not assured him that the half-kneazle was on their side.

During the evenings, Gaara patrolled the castle for the rat which was helped by the fact that the House Elves kept the castle pretty clean where Filch couldn't get to, so any rats he was likely to find would either be another pet or the traitor himself.

Sadly he found no such traitors.

Spending hour upon hour hunting for rats in a giant medieval castle was nobody's idea of fun, except perhaps one of the cats prowling around the place.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A/N: Thanks for reading.

It was a short chapter and not a whole lot happens, really. But this is just the prelude. The climax is fast approaching.

In other news, I read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child the other day, and I can see why people have compared it to Harry Potter fanfiction, except most fanfics know not to play with…

Actually, for those who haven't read it, I won't spoil it. For that purpose, I will suffice with saying that I wasn't a massive fan.

Anyway, if you haven't already, go and look at the wonderful fanart that has been drawn for this fic on my profile, and if you are feeling particularly generous with your time you can leave a review for me here.