9 Waiting Time is Slow Time

Day: 7 (continued)

Entering the Common Room, Harry finally realized it was Wednesday. He'd once said to Hermione that Wednesdays were days both good and bad, days of choices. And looking at his life those statistics continued to bare out. Hermione had rolled her eyes, lecturing in a tired voice that the day didn't mean anything. Maybe she was right. But Harry still felt as if he had made a choice in returning Barten's wand. Good or Bad? That he didn't know yet.

The Common Room was still crowded as he entered. Harry felt rather tired and looking around among the other people 'his age' he just didn't know what to make of them. Which was pretty much how most of his life had been. Seeing as nothing was new, Harry landed himself in an armchair, wondering how to spend another evening. Normally he'd have found Ron and Hermione and spent the evening listening to them quarrel with each other, which was usually a good enough way to pass the time. Or he might be working on some homework. That wasn't going to happen, not hardly.

"Detention must not have been too bad," Ethan said, sitting down across from him.

Harry shrugged.

"What does Barten do? Because if it's just lines I might not do that essay he set. Who really cares about the cultural climate when Grindelwald rose to power?" The seventh year leaned back in his armchair as he spoke, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin with a thoughtful air that seemed out of place.

"He duels you," Harry answered tiredly.

Ethan blinked. "He duels you? Like a competition...?" Ethan trailed off. "Is that allowed?" he asked.

Harry shrugged again.

Ethan leaned back in his chair. "Well, maybe I'll write the essay then." Harry continued to watch him for a moment, waiting for him to leave. However, Ethan seemed to have no intention of doing so, bobbing his head as if listening to a song. Harry decided to stop watching and just accepted his presence. Perhaps Frank and Alice were 'busy'. Which was a bad mental image indeed.

"Hey Harry," another voice chimed in. "Lily said you had detention, that's rough," Maggie settled on the couch near Harry's chair. Her sister plopped down silently beside her. She seemed a little nervous to meet Harry's eyes and was staring at his chin instead.

"Maggie, Morgan," Harry greeted. Despite their similar faces, both girls were dressed in an opposite manner. Maggie, the more boyish one, wore trousers and a worn looking robe, Morgan's dress was the faintest shade of pink. These sisters seemed determined to be opposites, but it did make it easier to tell them apart; if only the Weasley twins were as considerate.

"Apparently Barten dueled him," Ethan said, drawing the black haired girls' attention to himself.

Maggie opened her eyes wide. "Really? Well that is unique, I suppose. How'd you do?"

"Not too bad," Harry answered. In reality he wasn't certain. Had Barten been going easy on him? It didn't seem like it, but the man was undoubtedly skilled.

"What type of dueler is he?" Maggie prodded. She pulled out her own wand from a holster on her hip and ran it between her fingers as she spoke. Morgan noticed the gesture and seemed to sigh somewhat. Harry had a feeling that he was venturing into one of Maggie's interests. Still, he found himself interested in the conversation.

"More of a physical type I suppose. I think he might have some skill in Muggle boxing." Harry tried to recall the exact moves the man had made. He'd seen a few ninja movies (Dudley was fond of any television program that involved people hitting each other) and the man's moves didn't seem to have that sort of movement. Maybe boxing, and some sort of self-defense thrown in.

Maggie grew thoughtful. "Hmm, really? That's a strange fighting style for a wizard to have." Maggie turned to her sister and seemed to note the other's lack of interest. She smiled and gestured toward Harry, however the quiet girl shook her head slightly and narrowed her lips. The twins didn't seem to really need vocal communication; Harry had seen the Weasley twins converse like this on a number of occasions.

Ethan seemed to notice the lull. "Sort of smart when you think of it that way. How many wizards know hand-to-hand fighting techniques?"

It was an oddly astute comment coming from the seventh year, and Harry nodded his head thoughtfully, wondering once again if there were a way that he could get some physical fighting training once he got back home. Surely Professor Dumbledore knew someone with that sort of skill...even if Voldemort was in a coma, Harry knew that the Dark Lord would be returning far sooner than anyone hoped.

Maggie was also considering Ethan's statement. "You're probably right," she said with a smile.

Ethan inched forward somewhat, tapping his hand on his knee, "Looking forward to Quidditch practice starting again?" he asked.

Maggie nodded. "Yeah, gives me something better to do than homework," she answered.

Ethan shared a look of sincere agreement.

"Harry..." a somewhat timid voice entered the conversation. Morgan paused, her eyes flickering around. "Thank you again...for catching me." She took a breath, for once her gaze meeting his. Her eyes were slightly almond shaped and a deep brown, quite pretty really. Harry did not understand the quiet girl, but he had the feeling that this was a big accomplishment for her.

"Sure," he said kindly. " It's not like I could let you fall. You okay?"

"Oh yeah," she nodded her head rapidly, biting her lip.

"Two cracked ribs," Maggie added. "But Madam Pomfrey stitched her up in a snap." She snapped her fingers to complete the statement.

Harry agreed silently, remembering the witch's skill with his own injuries.

"It was pretty amazing that you managed to catch her," Ethan added. "What sort of broom do you have?"

What sort of broom did he have? He'd simply charmed his Firebolt to look like one of the brooms of this time. He'd seen the picture in one of the Quidditch magazines that James left lying about. Not that he could remember a detail like that now.

"A Comet," he said hopefully. Those were around, right?

Ethan shared a glance with Maggie, both seeming to share a little snicker, "You don't even know do you," Ethan said with a laugh.

"I just forgot the name," Harry argued helplessly. Really, how was he supposed to know the models of brooms that came out in the seventies?!

"And you're on the team and I'm a reserve." Maggie heaved a sigh and shook her head tiredly. "James Potter is a sexist prick."

"You made the team?" Ethan asked sounding a little surprised, "Well, looks like our chances are improving for the cup this year." Ethan tapped his fingers thoughtfully. Harry had the notion that the older boy was considering betting opportunities; the twins' eyes could take on the same gleam from time to time.

Harry turned back to Morgan. "James isn't that bad," Harry said, feeling somehow forced to defend his father's reputation.

"You're a boy, like you would notice," Maggie said snidely.

"Harry's not like that," Morgan injected into the conversation suddenly.

Maggie seemed surprised by her sister's sudden outburst, turning to her questioningly.

Morgan opened her mouth, closed it again and twitched her shoulders. "I have homework," the girl said softly before rising to her feet.

Maggie watched her sister leave, her eyes following Morgan's retreat up to the girl's staircase. She than turned that sharp gaze onto Harry, "I should probably go too," the dark-haired girl said slowly.

Before she could rise, Ethan called after her, "You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Maggie looked a little startled by the question, but shifted into an aloof manner. "I suppose so."

"Maybe while we're there I can buy you a butter beer," Ethan said with a grin that displayed all his teeth. Harry suddenly felt like he had stumbled upon some odd sort of mating ritual.

"Maybe," Maggie allowed, looking away.

"I'll take that as a 'maybe'," Ethan said, he snapped his fingers in her direction, for a purpose Harry couldn't determine.

Maggie's lips fought a smile. "You do that." She turned and moved to the stairway, seemingly aware but not really caring that Ethan was watching her walk away.

The seventh year did a little dance in his chair once she had moved up the stairs. "I tell you mate, I just have to sit next to you and snag the girls that get caught in your pull."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're just really desperate for a shag aren't you," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Of course," Ethan answered without any sort of embarrassment. "But Maggie's a bit of all right; she'd be the sort to take out for a movie and fish and chips. And she's got a twin sister...I know Morgan would probably be against the idea...but there is always the chance." Ethan seemed more than content to enjoy that fantasy for a little bit. Harry almost felt like he was examining a different species, was this what he would be like if he didn't have Voldemort and life and death situations to keep him occupied?

"Yeah, well I'm going to bed," Harry said, leaving Ethan to his daydreams.

"Night," the older boy called with a faint smile.

Harry entered his dormitory, looking around to make certain that the Boa Vine hadn't gone wild again. But the plant was growing quite harmlessly around his bed. Indeed it seemed to follow directions very well: at least something in his life did.

Harry sat on his bed, the dorm was empty, it was still too early for the others to have ventured upstairs.

"You doing alright up here? Getting enough sun?" Harry hissed to the plant.

"Growing," the plant replied. "Like Growing."

"Yeah I know, but you can't get too big. We, well, us humans have to live here too." Harry watched as the vine seemed to twine even more elaborately around his bed as he spoke to it.

"I may be leaving sometime soon," he warned the plant. Somehow it seemed only right to let it know that he wouldn't always be here.

"Where, You go, I go," the plant replied.

Harry had never had a dog, his Aunt Petunia would never have allowed one in the house, but speaking to this plant gave him the feeling that he was learning what having one was like. "I am moving through time so I can't really take you with me," Harry tried to explain. Looking at the somewhat sentient plant, Harry was starting to feel a little guilty about leaving it.

The vine seemed to rustle unhappily. "Take me," the vine hissed, not seeming to understand the problem. Harry really couldn't blame it. How do you explain time travel to a plant? Even he wasn't quite sure on it.

"I would if I could but you aren't exactly small enough for me to carry you around in my pocket," Harry tried to explain.

"I can be small," the plant returned. The vine seemed to retract again, wrapping around its pot and trying to look as small as it could.

Harry felt like a world class heel. Which was stupid because he was feeling bad for a plant. The thing just seemed so pitiable. Why did it only grow around Parselmouths anyway?

"I'd have to put you in a box," Harry finally said. "There won't be any sun."

The plant seemed to consider this for a moment. "Yes," it hissed docilely.

"I tell you, I hear something funny," said a voice coming up the stairs. Harry looked toward the doorway before throwing himself on his bed and grabbing a book that was close at hand. It happened to be his book on the Boa Vine and he glared at the very boring grubby little text.

"Remus, there can't be a gas leak: it's a magical school, no gas...well, except when Peter eats too many apricots."

"Hey," a quieter voice muttered.

The dorm room opened to see the four Marauders pile in. Each boy gave the room a quick sweep and relaxed when seeing that the Boa Vine was still behaving itself.

Remus also spotted Harry. "Did you hear a strange noise up here?" the prefect asked. "Sort of like...a hissing. Air moving, maybe."

Harry's face became puzzled. "No, why?"

Remus shook his head, "I thought I...never mind. What you reading?"

Harry looked down at the little book with a cringe. "It's about the Boa Vine. I wanted to make certain it wouldn't come to life and throttle us in our sleep."

Sirius, who was slouching on his bed, looked over. "Yeah, bit late for that."

"What if we managed to get the plant in the Slytherin Common Room?" James offered. "That would be great."

Sirius seemed to perk up at the opportunity for a prank. "Yeah, that would be good. If we put it near their door, then they wouldn't be able to get out."

Harry didn't like the idea of abandoning the Boa Vine to the House of the Snakes. Odd that Sirius and James weren't considering his opinion on the matter. They were muttering to themselves, no doubt plotting something. Harry felt it necessary to stop this early on.

"It seems to have taken a turn for the worse," Harry pointed out, he gestured toward the plant that now grew tightly around its pot.

"What happened to it? I told Slughorn that it trapped us in our room. He'll never believe me now." Remus settled in his own bed irritably, glaring at the offending plant.

"What classes do we have tomorrow?" Harry asked, trying to draw his roommates' minds away from the plant.

"Transfiguration and double Care of Magical Creatures," Remus answered. He turned to his bed and began pulling books out of his bag, seeming to have let his thoughts return to any schoolwork he needed to do.

"Ah, Remus, what would we do without our walking talking class schedule?" James's voice brought about no reaction from the prefect.

While it was still rather early, Harry closed the curtains around his bed, letting the voices of the Marauders be muffled. Like Remus, he began making his own preparation. It wasn't likely that he'd be in this time much longer. Dumbledore was right: he needed to pack the things he'd need for the journey. He didn't want to risk leaving his invisibility cloak or Firebolt behind. He supposed he wouldn't really be losing them, but he doubted he'd get the things returned to him in their original condition: twenty or so years was quite a bit of time.

"Any luck with your new strategy with Lily?" Sirius asked in a high manner. The sound penetrated his curtains and Harry found himself listening in despite his own belief that he really shouldn't have to put up with this sort of thing.

James seemed to sigh. "Not really. I tried to lend her another book and she accused me of trying to trick her in some way. Made it seem like it was all a plot I'd devised or something."

"Is that why she flung the book at you?" Peter asked. He and Remus had been doing homework at the time and it hadn't seemed polite to ask.

Harry found himself smiling. Yes! He in no way helped his parents get together. They managed it without him: he was not a catalyst for his own birth. He'd been odd enough in his life, was it too much to ask that his own conception be relatively normal?

"I think I'll ask her to Hogsmeade," James suddenly said.

Sirius moaned. Harry agreed.

"James, you are only looking for trouble...just give up on her mate."

Harry wondered what his father's expression looked like at the moment. It was almost tempting to roll back his curtain and have a look, but somehow he felt it was better he didn't really know.

"I'm gonna ask her," James repeated, his tone was blank enough that it made it difficult to interpret.

Harry reached for his wand and cast a silencing charm; he really didn't need to know this sort of thing. He'd wanted to learn new things about his parents, and he felt he had. But perhaps it would just be better to wait out the next few days and try not to get involved.

Harry shrunk the trunk he'd been arranging, promising himself he'd put the Boa Vine in there tomorrow. Slipping into his pajamas Harry crawled under his covers and went to sleep. He hoped he'd be returning soon. Maybe it was like waiting for Christmas: the sooner you went to the sleep the sooner it came. Of course, Harry had never cared for Christmas overmuch: it was merely a day when Vernon and Petunia hoisted gifts on Dudley, sneering in his direction whenever he tried to worm his way into their holiday.

Just before sleep, Harry found his thoughts drifting once again to Professor Barten. He wasn't certain how exactly he was going to handle that situation, but he did know one thing: the man wasn't getting anymore homework from him. Harry had a strict policy of not doing homework for a professor once they had attacked him.

Day Eight

Thursday dawned bright and cheerfully, much to Harry's annoyance. His dreams had once again been vague and murky. Whether that was his own mind or invading presences, was anyone's guess. But if it was Voldemort, it might explain his sluggishness as he got out of bed.

Remus was busy with his morning entertainment of waking his friends.

"I'd just pour cold water on them mate," Harry said on his way to the bathroom.

But when Harry emerged everyone appeared to be dry, grumbling and sleepy-eyed. They moved about packing their bags for the day. Harry used the distraction to subtly pack the Boa Vine in his trunk and then shrink the trunk to the size of a matchbox. He half expected the miniaturized vine to complain about the treatment, but there was nary a hiss.

"Uhhhh," Sirius groaned. "Transfiguration."

Why this bothered the young man Harry didn't know. Harry had no memory of the previous Transfiguration class, and thus wasn't certain if he had ignored the homework or not. As for Care of Magical Creatures, he vaguely remembered something to do with spiders.

As he left the dorm, heading for breakfast, he found he didn't really care.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Harry started on his breakfast, only looking up when Lily plopped down beside him. The redhead didn't seem to be in a very good mood, her green eyes shooting annoyed glances at something behind her. Harry followed her gaze, landing not so surprisingly enough on James, who had also just entered. Alice wasn't far behind with Frank in tow. The pair had been mysteriously absent thus far this morning. There was a somewhat flushed happy expression on Frank's face. Alice was as calm and collected as ever; still, her eyes drifted to her boyfriend from time to time.

"Well, good morning," Alice said warmly.

"Indeed," Frank agreed.

Lily seemed utterly disgusted by their happiness and rolled her eyes as she bit into a piece of toast. "Perhaps for those who don't have stalkers," she mentioned sourly.

Alice sighed, sitting next to her friend she tried to be sympathetic, "What did James Potter do now?"

"It's just a combination of all he's been doing. It's terribly suspicious. And then today he said he wanted to talk to me in private. If I end up coming to you professing my undying love for the prat you'll know he slipped me some love potion." Lily shot another suspicious look in the Marauder's direction.

Alice nodded her head, "Well, if that happens I'll rush you to Pomfrey."

Harry was considering going to class early so that he didn't have to hear anymore of this conversation. Thankfully, Frank seemed equally bored. The fact the older boy hadn't bothered to defend James left Harry with the feeling that Longbottom had long given up trying. Instead he tuned Lily out and turned to Harry.

"Didn't happen to read about the Puddlemere United game against the Montrose Magpies did you?"

Harry bit into some toast. "No," he replied between bites.

"Quite the game. My dad had tickets, real supporter of the Magpies. Pity really, considering they've got no chance making it to the finals this year."

Harry shrugged, "Well, being a real supporter isn't really about win or lose, eh? And, er, they did really well...not too long ago." Time travel made discussing history tricky, even Quidditch history.

Frank nodded, "That's what my dad says. They were European champs twice when he was younger, I guess." Frank smiled. "'Course for me, ever since the Falcons won the Cup when I was five, well, that sort of thing stays with you."

"Are you boys really going to sit around and talk Quidditch?" Alice asked with an upraised brow.

"Better than sitting around and discussing who's taking who to Hogsmeade."

"That's just a silly superstition," Alice said with an offhand wave, however she paused for a minute. "That doesn't mean we aren't going together."

Frank nodded. "Yes dear," he allowed with a bland smile.

"What sort of superstition?" Harry asked wearily. Harry had once said that he didn't believe in superstitions. To have wound up with his luck, he'd have had to have walked under quite a few ladders, smashed, at the very least, three mirrors and had a black cat cross his path four days out of a given week. Most of that was ridiculous. (He wasn't certain about the mirror thing...that might explain a fair bit.)

Hermione had snorted derisively and pointed out that his own beliefs regarding the days of the week were about as superstitious as it came. Harry had argued that was a completely different matter. Hermione hadn't been convinced and Harry really didn't want to bother convincing her. Still, he had decided to have an open mind.

Lily seemed to heave a sigh. "It's quite silly. It's just that when you're a seventh year, well, the person you take to the first Hogsmeade trip is the person, well, the person you'll end up with."

"Soul mate," Alice supplied.

Lily glared at her friend. "Yes, well if you want to put it that way."

"I do," Alice agreed, smiling fondly at Frank.

Harry was glad he hadn't heard of this back home, maybe it wasn't around anymore. If if did he wasn't looking forward to his seventh year, Merlin only knew how many invitations he'd get.

"Well that's ruddy wonderful." He muttered, glaring at his porridge.

But on the bright side, Voldemort could have killed him by then.

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face as the others were watching him with amused smiles. "I'm going to class," he decided. The others watched blankly as he rose to his feet and exited.

"Sort of strange, that one," Alice offered absently.

"There's nothing wrong with him," Lily defended.

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "Seemed normal enough to me."

"You wouldn't notice," Alice decided, patting Frank in a manner that had the seventh year raising an eyebrow.

"I think he's quite sensible," the redhead argued. "Most of the time," she amended.

Alice shrugged, "I suppose," she relented, "He's probably just worried that Hortense is going to drag him to the village with her, just on the off chance that the spell– "

"Superstition," Lily interrupted with a hiss.

"Whatever," Alice dismissed. "Just on the chance it takes effect a year early."

Transfiguration class was, once again, very boring. It wasn't actually McGonagall's fault, the woman was simply too organized for her own good. No doubt she'd been using the same lesson plan for the thirty odd years she'd taught at Hogwarts. She'd probably inserted some new material here and there, but in general, the theory behind Transfiguration didn't change much. One thing becomes another, not too complicated eh? He was rather glad that McGonagall couldn't read minds, she'd be fuming at that one.

Harry found himself once again sitting through a lesson he'd already heard. The practice was just as easy and Harry found himself dozing through most of the class. He was starting to wonder why he bothered sleeping: he could stay up all night and just nap his way through the day.

Of course he shouldn't have assumed that his inattentiveness had gone unnoticed.

"Mr. Tempus, a moment if you please," McGonagall stopped him as he went by. "I will provide a pass for your next class."

Harry didn't actually have another class, just a little free time before lunch and then Care of Magical Creatures. He felt that the lack of an imposing schedule was really hurting him at this point. How long would McGonagall keep him to lecture about proper classroom behavior?

"Er, sure professor." Harry stood uncomfortably before his head of house's desk while the other students shuffled out of the classroom. Remus and Lily no doubt had Ancient Runes or some other such academic type of thing to go to. Harry watched them almost longingly. Almost.

Once the class was empty Harry did the only thing he could, deciding to circumvent the storm. "I'm sorry I haven't been paying close enough attention in class, I'll do my best to improve in the future." He added a concerned look to finish off the statement.

McGonagall seemed to pause for a moment before settling in her chair. "That isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. But I'm glad you are thinking on it." Her gaze was a trifle chilly, but it warmed a bit as she watched him shift before her. "Still, your classwork has been top rate. I can only assume that your previous professor was a skilled teacher."

Harry tried to hide a smile. "Yes, she was very talented."

"Good. Now, what I wished to discuss with you. You are aware that this coming weekend, Saturday to be precise, the older students are allowed to go to the wizarding village of Hogsmeade."

Harry nodded, wondering where this was going.

"I will need your parent or guardian to sign this form to allow you to go," McGonagall said quite simply, brandishing a white parchment paper in his direction.

Harry looked at the piece of paper pressing his lips thinly to avoid a smile. "That may be a bit of a problem," Harry said slowly.

McGonagall arched one of her thin eyebrows, "And what exactly is the problem, Mr. Tempus?"

"Well," Harry began with a somber tone. "My guardians are a...well, quite a distance away, I don't think it would be possible to get the form to them before Saturday."

McGonagall looked at him sternly. "Then I'm afraid that you will not be able to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. If you get the form signed you will be able to attend the next, some time in early December." McGonagall clearly looked ready for a fight, she crossed her arms, her chin was slightly raised. She surveyed Harry with a somewhat weary expression.

Harry couldn't contain a smile. "Thanks professor, that really helps me out," he nodded, trying to remember forever her gobsmacked expression. "I won't need a pass," he said, before turning and walking away.

McGonagall quickly composed herself, watching with some interest, and the barest of smiles on her lips as the transfer student walked from her class humming. He was a curious individual. And she found herself becoming a little more curious about who exactly he was. She'd originally planned to send the permission form directly to his guardians, only to find the school records woefully uninformed when it came to Harry Tempus. It seemed almost as if the boy had sprung from thin air. When she'd brought up the little complication with Dumbledore, the headmaster had been more confusing than ever, remarking that he was certain that 'eventually' the records would be complete. He seemed to chuckle at her problem of locating the boy's guardians, almost in the same manner that Tempus himself had. Minerva McGonagall was fairly certain that something was underfoot, some sort of plot shared between Tempus and the Headmaster.

McGonagall reached into her desk and pulled a biscuit from a tartan tin. She was fairly certain that whatever it was, she didn't want to know.

Lunch came and went as lunch usually does. Harry ended up in another Quidditch conversation with Ethan and the former-seeker for Gryffindor, Tobias Crane. (Harry didn't know if James had shared the bad news yet, either way, Crane seemed to be an agreeable bloke. Barmy about Quidditch, but then who wasn't.) It was more a conversation of strategy, not team stats, so Harry had an easier time keeping up. The one good thing about Quidditch conversations, despite their natural enjoyableness, was that Alice's dislike of them kept her and Lily away. Which protected Harry from a discussion he probably wasn't interested in.

Of course before lunch was over, Harry had to relate the bad news to everyone.

"You can't go to Hogsmeade? Oi, that's terrible, mate," Ethan commiserated knocking his knuckles on the table to show his displeasure.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It's a real shame, and I was so looking forward to it." Harry's expression was spot on, however inside he was feeling quite differently. Not having to go to Hogsmeade meant a day to loll about the castle, not having to worry about the ghosts of the past popping up and disrupting the quiet. Not going to Hogsmeade gave him a plausible reason to avoid conversations anyone might have about who was going with who and what not.

"Where are your guardians anyway, if an owl can't reach them before then?" Tobias asked.

"China," Harry pronounced seriously.

"I thought your relatives were Muggles, mate?" Ethan asked, right before taking a large bite out of a sandwich.

"Muggles can go to China too," Harry argued.

Ethan shrugged. "Guess so. What are they doing in China?"

"They went there to learn how to build a wall, they have a pretty big one there apparently," Harry answered, again his face quite serious.

Crane, who was a pure-blood, just nodded; Ethan spared Harry an incredulous glance.

When lunch had ended, Harry headed down to Care of Magical Creatures. James and Sirius had already left for some reason or another, probably none of it good, but Remus was hanging behind slightly. Harry didn't need a guide to get around, but ever since he had claimed to have gotten lost, Harry noted the prefect watching him a little more closely. If that was his punishment for lying, well, so be it. The two fell into step together, neither saying much. It wasn't until they reached the grounds that Remus spoke up.

"What do you suppose Kettleburn will cover today?" the werewolf asked.

Harry looked thoughtful. "I don't know. Should be interestin'," he added with a slight smile.

"Do you know Hagrid?" Remus asked, sharply picking up on Harry's slight mimicry.

Drat, Harry remembered, Hagrid was probably groundskeeper in this time already. Strange he hadn't noticed the man about...very strange considering he towered over most of the staff. Best to play dumb.

Harry put on his best Gregory Goyle expression. "No, who might he be?"

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "He's the keeper of the keys and grounds of Hogwarts, but he hasn't been around yet this year. Sirius and James have been wondering where he's been, he never gives them too strict of detentions. But I suppose you couldn't know him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Kettleburn was already pacing about the class when they arrived. The short man was holding an odd crooked stick in one hand, a bucket of ice in the other. He set the bucket down, but the stick stayed in his hands, which he leaned against like a staff. Harry noted that the hand with three fingers seemed to be sporting a fresh bandage, tightly binding the hand into a white mitten. But it didn't seem to have lessened the professor's enthusiasm any. He smiled warmly when he noticed the last of the students joining.

James and Sirius were the last to arrive, they raced down from the school with winded but excited faces.

"What kept you?" Remus asked.

The pair shrugged his question aside, turning to the professor instead.

"Gather, gather," Kettleburn instructed, waving at them with his injured hand. Harry once again noted the larger class size. He spotted Morgan and Maggie down front, and remembered wondering about them last class. Now he smiled in a polite way when he spotted them.

No one seemed daunted after their previous magical creature lesson. Most were watching the metal box behind Kettleburn with some interest. And with good reason. The top was a metal grate rather than solid steel. Smoke seeped from it, creating an ominous appearance.

"Now today we'll be dealing with a tricky thing. I can't promise you'll be seeing much, but I'll give you a solid lecture, and if we get lucky we may see something special. And I'll be making Professor Slughorn very happy."

Harry, along with the rest of his classmates, smiled, waiting for Kettleburn to lift up the box and show them what they were working on today.

"Maybe it's a dragon?" someone whispered. Kettleburn seemed to note their excitement, smiling before lifting his wand, levitating the metal crate a few feet away.

It was, to say the least, disappointing.

The class gazed for some moments at what appeared to be a perfectly normal campfire. Well, normal in the wizarding sense. The slight green tinge to the end of the flames as well as an increased heat output hinted that the fire was more magical than Muggle in nature. Still, it wasn't exactly what they had been expecting. The students looked around, sharing glances with each other.

"We're very lucky to have found one," Kettleburn said, circling the fire. He seemed to be determined to keep a good distance away.

"Er? Professor?" one tall Hufflepuff posed speculatively. "What is that?"

Kettleburn seemed to snap out of his daze. "There is an Ashwinder in there," he said, his brown eyes opening wide. "Keep back a bit; if it lays an egg we've got to cool it down fast or it will set the grass alight." The professor continued circling about the flames, watching it carefully.

At that announcement, the other students began looking a little closer at the magical fire.

"Acromantuala, Ashwinder...you don't suppose he's going in alphabetical order do you?" Remus was speaking to James with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"It moved," one student said with a gasp to her voice.

"Where?" some others joined in. Soon, despite the heat rolling off the flames, the class was moving closer.

A tall girl from Ravenclaw raised her hand and pointed into the center of the flames. It took a moment, but soon the others could see the slender outline buried deep within the heart of the blaze.

"An Ashwinder has a very short life span," Kettleburn beginning the lecture. "Usually no more than a year even if they die of natural causes. Most don't even last that because the fires they live in are usually extinguished. They spend most of their lives in magical fires, providing they maintain a certain temperature, somewhere over 1300 °C. Because of their color and small size, they are often difficult to see, unless you happen to meet its ruby gaze. On its own, the Ashwinder isn't terribly dangerous. It can't exist for long outside the heat of its fire. If you should encounter one, they aren't poisonous but can burn you. Touching an Ashwinder can result in third degree burns." He rubbed his own bandaged hand warily.

"However the eggs of the Ashwinder are perhaps even more dangerous. An Ashwinder may only ever leave its fire to lay an egg. If not recognized soon, the egg will burst into a flame, sometimes over 2000°C, and is nearly impossible to put out. As Ashwinders live in fire, these burning eggs create an environment for the young, who in turn will lay another egg and spread another fire. In Africa during 56 B.C., one Ashwinder spawned a fire that consumed the western half of the continent, destroying the magical civilization there and giving rise to the lush jungles that populate the region today."

Harry found himself paying some attention; he'd never studied this before. His gaze fixed on the fire as Kettleburn spoke. It was difficult to see, but hidden within the coals a small grayish serpent coiled harmlessly. It looked almost dead among licking flames. But its head lifted gracefully, sweeping a glance at the class.

Everyone seemed to take a breath when its eyes, and indeed they were ruby, seemed to glint dangerously among the heat.

Harry was trying to ignore the spluttering hissing coming from the fire. Among the crackle of the fire burning, it was difficult to really understand anyway. All he could make out was a steady flow of insults and profanity.

"Sstupid Cold Assssh Excrement, Thinkss He knowsss."

Harry bit his tongue, it was sort of hard not to see the Ashwinder's point. He could remember the professor's errors regarding the Acromantula last time, was he off now as well?

"The eggs of an Ashwinder, while very dangerous, are considered essential to many difficult potions. Of course the trick is to find the eggs almost immediately after they are laid, otherwise the dangerous fires they create make it almost impossible to get them. I've been watching this beauty for Professor Slughorn."

The Ashwinder seemed aware of man's intentions. If the language was any indication.

"Cold unnatural limbed monsssters, Thieving Flesssh Beastsss," The snake continued on its litany of insults.

Harry found himself fighting laughter at some of the inventive invectives. Kettleburn continued speaking about the properties of Ashwinder eggs as the class milled around. Everyone seemed to be keeping a good distance this time, and Harry doubted he'd have to worry so much about Sirius.

Of course, Harry was starting to wonder whether someone was out to get him. Besides Voldemort and Deatheaters and such; no more like some sort of fate conspiring against him. A Parseltongue plant, now a profane snake in class. Was there some figure looming out there wanting to expose him? Harry was aware that it was Thursday, and so he chose, quite wisely, to keep his mouth shut.

The class finally broke up with Kettleburn still circling the fire. The Ashwinder hadn't laid an egg yet, but the friendly professor seemed to believe that it would be anytime now. Harry climbed back up to the castle trailing behind the Marauders, feeling quite cocky actually, having managed to avoid whatever embarrassment fate had in store.

Indeed, for a Thursday, everything seemed to be going smoothly. He hadn't been attacked by anything, he hadn't been revealed as a Parselmouth, nothing had tried to eat him. Really, everything was turning out rather nice indeed. Dinner was a casual affair, Harry managed to snag a fine raspberry tart as well as the last of some pudding...and some shepherd's pie, with Remus looking on.

Consolation was passed around as his acquaintances in this time learned that Harry wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade. No one offered to stay behind with him, but then that was something you expected of true friends, and Harry was rather glad that he didn't have any of those here. Of course Hortense was concerned that he get his permission form signed for the next Hogsmeade weekend. Knowing that he would no doubt be leaving soon allowed Harry to smile warmly at the pushy girl and promise to send the form to his guardians post haste.

Harry did get the feeling that Thursday was proving disastrous for others. Basing his observations on Lily and James's frank avoidance of each other, he guessed that James had managed to ask Lily out and she had once again turned him down. The pair were separated from each other by quite a distance, something both seemed desirous of. James also seemed to be extremely annoyed with Sirius. The handsome pure-blood didn't look as if he'd be spending his time in Hogsmeade alone. Black was chatting up a busty blonde from Hufflepuff, and making a good deal of progress by the look of it, much to his best mate's chagrin.

Thankfully he wasn't sitting in the direct line of any of that drama, so he ate his desserts contentedly. With dinner easily passed, Harry snuck off to the Room of Requirement for a few hours training. His magic was behaving itself fairly well during this vacation; one outburst, and a mild one at that, gave him practically a clean record. Still he didn't want to slip out of practice, not with confusing defense professors wandering about. He still hadn't come to a decision regarding that matter. He'd decided to keep a mindful eye, that is if he ever saw the man outside of his class or office. The professor never even came to dinner. Still, whatever the reason, a little more 'Constant Vigilance' wouldn't hurt.

When Harry finally made it to bed, he felt he'd escaped Thursday unscathed, and was feeling very relaxed when a hand landed on his shoulder. Looking behind him Harry spotted James with a very serious expression on his face, an expression not often seen there.

"Sirius and I spoke with Barten today. We're going to have another one of those lessons tomorrow night." James seemed to be in a sour mood as he spoke.

Harry ignored the tone. "He told you then?" he asked.

James didn't need the 'he' clarified, nodding he replied "Stupid wanker, don't know why he bothered to hide it. I'd figure I'd join too. You know, moral support and all."

Harry glanced at him over his shoulder while packing his things in his trunk.

"Yeah well, I want to learn too," James amended. "It would probably help in becoming an auror."

"You want to be an auror, eh?" Harry asked, honestly curious. The Durselys had always said that his father was unemployed. And for once they were right. In the strictest sense, James Potter didn't have a job, not when he died and not before. The Potter family's fortune easily supported James and his wife modestly. From what Harry had learned the pair had spent much of their time before he was born working for Dumbledore and his Order. There had been the occasional odd job here and there, often times with more relevance than might be readily apparent. And then when he was born, and the prophecy came to light, protecting themselves and their child became their job.

But Harry had wondered about his father's dreams.

"I'd have thought professional Quidditch," he offered, probing for more information.

James grew reflective, tugging on the sleeve of his white collared shirt. "Well, that might be nice, if things weren't they way they are. With this war, well, being an auror would be more exciting than playing Quidditch." James's hazel eyes flashed, and he smiled before striking a pose that Harry supposed received accolade. James expected praise, but Harry could only shrug.

James eagerly anticipated battle, felt proud in his nobility. Not that each fight didn't bring Harry a surge of adrenalin. Sometimes those memories seemed brighter, sharper, clearer-those were times he'd never forget. But it was impossible for him to really look forward to it, it was the sort of thing that only someone who hadn't experienced it could glorify. Standing before what could very well be your death, with only a wand and your wits...it really wasn't what James Potter thought it was going to be.

Harry's silence seemed to strike James as odd, or perhaps just unexpected.

"I figure I have to do my part for the right side of this thing," he continued, once again finding himself very courageous.

"James," Harry said softly. He bit his lip, not certain what he could say.

"Yeah," James asked, his face preparing for praise.

"That's the stupidest thing in the world."

James spluttered. "What?" he managed to say, a little too stunned to be mad yet.

"It's not about doing anything heroic. It isn't really even doing what people think is right. Its doing what lets you sleep at the end of the day." Harry leaned against his bedpost, finding himself unable to turn around and look at his father's face.

"Just don't tell me you did it because you wanted people to think you were brave?" Harry didn't know why he said that.

"I'm– what are you on about Tempus," James demanded, ruffling his hair. "We've all got to do our part against this thing."

Harry nodded, not minding the other's boy's irritated tone. Maybe James's reasons would change, maybe they wouldn't. Time would do what it wanted.

Either way, Harry found that he fell asleep quite easily.

Harry dreamed. And in his dream he felt his strength growing again. He felt as if the shackles on his body were releasing. He was starting to remember who he was again, starting to leave this wretched blackness. It was an emptiness that seemed horribly familiar, the brief snatches of noise and light were restoring his sense of self, and growing more frequent. He was still bound, still locked away, but the keys were turning. Why this was happening, he himself could not say. He was remembering enough to know that perhaps this shouldn't be happening. But that seemed to reek of self doubt, an emotion he'd sworn never to have. He could wait, and do it with more patience than most would think him to have. But it would happen soon, and with it the taste of victory would be near.

Harry pulled himself from an odd dream. His hand fiddled with his night stand, it was rather empty now that the Boa Vine wasn't there. Bringing his watch right under his nose, he peered at the face.

He's forgotten it was still dark. Light might be helpful about now.

Thankfully his wand was close at hand, still strapped to his forearm. He muttered a lumos charm, letting the faint glare of the spell display the dials on his watch. It wasn't after midnight yet. Still Thursday. Why did he have a feeling that such a weird dream was bad news?

Day Nine (The Day after Thursday)

It was Friday, and with a Hogsmeade trip the next day the students of Hogwarts were in a good mood. Well, most everyone. Harry seemed to be different yet again. The odd dream that had awoken him before midnight wouldn't seem to leave him. Still the more he thought about it, the more the dream seemed to become more indecipherable, becoming only fleeting emotions and feelings. He tried to cast it aside at breakfast, but it seemed to cling to him almost in a tangible manner.

"Isn't it lovely out," Alice said. She was without Frank for once, and Lily was settling a dispute among some fourth year girls.

"Meh," Harry grunted. He pushed aside some porridge with a spoon, not wanting to eat it but feeling too lazy to get something else.

"Aren't you chipper?" Alice offered, helping herself to her own breakfast.

Harry continued digging through his porridge. Alice watched him while she munched on some toast with marmalade.

"Rough night?" she asked.

"Muh," Harry muttered, nodding and shrugging at the same time.

Alice seemed to nod knowingly. "Was it Sirius? Because I could really picture him sneaking up on you in the middle of the night; the boy has more hormones than is healthy."

"What?" Harry asked, introducing his first coherent word of the day. "What are you talking about?"

Alice reached out and patted his hand gently, "It's alright, just remind him no means no and a polite kick in the crotch isn't out of line."

"You have some disturbing notions about what goes on in a boys dormitory," Harry said. He eyed the girl across from him, not quite knowing how Neville could look so much like her and then not actually resemble her character at all.

Ethan and Frank joined them. "What are we talking about?" Ethan asked.

"Frank's girlfriend's disturbing mind," Harry related.

Frank seemed to nod understandingly before stilling from a rather cool glance from said girlfriend.

"Like you don't think that girls have pillow fights in their panties and practice French kissing," Alice said.

Harry was beginning to see where Neville's character came from, as Frank turned a hideous shade of red and gulped down some orange juice too quickly.

"You do," Ethan said firmly. "You do and there is no room for argument."

Despite the somewhat ominous dream, Harry was starting to feel a little better. Friday was turning out to be a rather uneventful day. Potions was cut short; no practical, just a short lecture on some of the topics they had already covered. Apparently Slughorn had a potion he was brewing that was taking all his attention, not that Harry minded much: the lack of class allowed him a few hours to sleep before having to go to Charms.

Charms was hardly worth the effort of getting up. Once again, it wasn't Flitwick's fault, the small professor was simply teaching a lesson that Harry had already learned.

The lack of anything to do did allowed Harry to think about the other lesson he had tonight. It wasn't really in his nature to worry about little things. Not any more: a few attempts on your life and the little worries tend to matter less and less. Still, he didn't think it was untoward to have a little anxiety before this evening's lesson. Not only would he be assisting his father now as well, but he would once again be meeting Barten, a man whose motives were still unclear.

Harry had a hard time believing the man to be a Death Eater. It wasn't anything concrete, just a feeling. The man seemed to lack some of the earmarks of his favorite pure-blooded minions. Barten's fondness for Muggle clothing, and the man's Muggle fighting style just didn't seem to match what be knew about their bigotry. All the same, he was a dangerous character, and it wouldn't be the first time that Voldemort hid his works in an unassuming guise.

"Mr. Tempus?" Flintwick called. Harry looked up shocked to the see the diminutive professor peering up at him, his hands resting on Harry's desk.

"Er, yes sir?" Harry wondered hesitantly.

"Class is over Mr. Tempus," the Charms professor reminded him in a cheerful voice.

Harry looked around a little bewildered. The classroom was entirely empty, how had he missed that? "Sorry sir," he apologized, although he didn't know why.

"Not to worry, my boy," Flitwick said kindly, patting Harry's arm as one would a puppy. "I imagine you have a lot on your mind."

There was a somewhat all-knowing tone to Flintwick's voice; Harry really didn't want to know if he knew anything or not. He nodded to his professor, before quickly walking away. Friday was seeming very long...well, at least he had his lesson with Barten tonight to look forward to.

Harry found himself waiting outside of Barten's classroom this time. His hesitance in the past had involved some embarrassment, for reasons such as throwing the man across the room and walking out on his class. But that had not been quite enough reason for him to avoid the man before. However, being attacked by the professor made him consider the benefit of witnesses.

James and Sirius were still at dinner, an event Harry had endured briefly. Talk of the Hogsmeade weekend seemed to be the main focus of the meal. As he wasn't doing any of the talking Harry ate his way through a piece of chocolate cake and treacle tart...as well as some potatoes and a smidgeon of stew. He decided to leave when conversation turned to who was going with whom, mostly in fear that the discussion could turn even more petty. He didn't think it possible, but he'd been proven wrong in the past. Or the future, depending on your frame of reference.

"Not coming in?" a voice asked him speculatively.

Harry looked up from the spot on the floor he'd been looking at. "I'm actually fine here, sir," he provided.

"You're a Gryffindor, I'd expect a different response."

"Yeah, well, I'm different sort of Gryffindor," Harry stated simply.

Barten moved so that he stood in the doorway to his classroom, the molding of the door shaded his face. Harry thought it was a little over dramatic.

"You are interesting," Barten answered.

"Back at you," Harry replied.

The silence between them wasn't exactly comfortable; to have that you have to have some sort of trust between people. But it wasn't awkward either: neither character was capable of false posturing, thus they found themselves at an odd impasse.

"Do much Muggle fighting?" Barten asked suddenly, still managing a conversational manner.

Harry shook his head. "Afraid not."

"I find it's a nice addition," the defense professor commented.

"Do aurors do much in that way of training," Harry found himself asking. He'd been curious. Ethan did have a point earlier: it wasn't often that you saw wizards exchanging blows. And if it did appear, it was usually Muggleborns like Hermione wiping the floor with spoiled brats like Malfoy.

"No," Barten answered. "It's not 'proper training procedure'," Barten recited with a casual flick of his chin length hair. "More work with speedy wand work, some effort towards dodging accurately."

"Why did you take that route, when I was distracted with the book cases you could have sent a spell," Harry asked. He found himself referring to their fight in a clinical manner, evaluating the exchange as if from a different vantage point.

"That would be expected. A few blows and most wizards loose a grip on their wand. Loose hands make better targets."

Harry agreed silently.

"Not you though," Barten said, watching the boy carefully.

Harry once again became aware of the man's sharp eyes, he felt himself retreating more into himself.

"Well hello, Professors," a new voice interrupted.

Oddly a very accurate statement.

Harry looked over, he hadn't heard James of Sirius approaching. That might have something to do with the portrait that was sliding back into place. The pair knew Hogwarts's secret passageways better than anyone Harry had ever met, excluding perhaps the Weasley twins.

"Professors?" Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow in the other's direction.

"Yeah, well, you're teaching us too, eh?" James added. He moved into the classroom, passing the defense professor, not seeming to note the oddness of the other's location. Sirius was looking a little curious about the odd grouping, but followed James inside. Harry couldn't help but note that Sirius seemed a little more relaxed this time. Their previous lesson had been an undeniable failure, but he had a little hope that this one might be better.

Once inside, Harry quickly repeated for James his advice on how to beat the Imperius Curse.

"Argue with the voice in my head. Eh, sounds a little barmy, but, well, you're the professor here." James was still dressed in his full school uniform, but he removed the black robe and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he seemed to brace himself.

Sirius raised his eyes as the motion, "It's mental mate," he said.

"I know. Crazy eh?" James grinned.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Why are you looking like you're ready to duel? It's all in your head."

James shrugged. "Yeah well, going to have an Unforgivable cast at me. Got to be ready."

"Be thankful it's only the Imperious," Barten warned. He was leaning against his desk, still dressed in a long blue robe, managing to look somewhat eerie.

"Er, right you are professor," James agreed with a weak smile. "Uh, take your best shot, eh?"

Barten raise his wand, looking somewhat bored. "Imperio."

In less than five seconds, James was moving about the room clucking like a chicken.

Harry tried to contain his laughter. Really, Moody's little lecture about complete control was still in his mind. But seeing his father like this...maybe it was good that James Potter hadn't been the one to raise him, he'd have lost any amount of respect at this point.

James shook his head as the spell wore off. He looked at Sirius and Harry in an annoyed way, "As if you'd do any better," he muttered.

"Let's see," Barten said, he turned his wand. "Imperio."

But the spell didn't fly in Sirius's direction: it hit Harry with a surprising accuracy. The feeling of peace came on heavy. Harry's magic was a little more stable today, but despite that the rush of power buried within him seemed to roar in anger.

Cluck like a chicken.

"You must be joking," Harry ground out through clenched teeth, ignoring the voice in his head. His tone had gone chilly. "At the very least be inventive," he advised.

"Just checking," Barten said. Still his eyes were a tad too probing, and Harry found himself breaking the curse with a vengeance, causing the man to stagger back from the force.

"Er, don't we already know he can break it?" James questioned.

"Yeah," Sirius argued, finding himself agreeing with James more out of habit than anything else.

"Forgive me," Barten said, taking a breath and stepping away from Harry, although who the man was speaking to was up for debate.

Once again Sirius was run through his paces. Harry might be feeling too optimistic, but he had the vague feeling that Sirius was doing better than he had the previous time. His response was not anymore slowed, he still eventually submitted to whatever Barten ordered, but Harry thought there was something in his eyes that spoke to his strength. Maybe having James there helped, if only for the added pressure to succeed.

Not that James was providing much competition. Harry had to hand it to his Dad, he seemed to be able to fail time and again and not get down about it. But he was improving some: his first attempt in class had produced almost an immediate obedience. He was fighting it , if only very slowly. Maybe with more lessons with Barten, James wouldn't be bound by this spell's sway.

Harry watched as once again the spell was cast in Sirius's direction. Black stood there for a few moments, before, strangely enough, he coughed.

Harry looked to Barten. Was the man asking him to cough? But Barten looked just as intrigued. The man seemed to double his efforts. Sirius coughed again, this time more loudly. Perhaps there was a trace of coherence amidst that sound, but nothing Harry could understand.

Barten let the spell drop. "Good work, Mr. Black. Finally some success."

James moved to his friend and slapped him on the back. "Good job, mate. Most Aurors can't even do that." James spared a glance for the former auror and current defense professor.

"Indeed, you are right, Mr. Potter," Barten agreed. "You've made the first step today. Next lesson we'll work on having you beat it completely. And you, Potter, you come again as well."

Both Harry and James nodded absently at this comment.

"We're done?" Sirius asked. He still hadn't commented on his victory, looked almost dazed at the result.

"For today, I have other work Mr. Black." Barten wasted no time in hurrying them out of his classroom, closing the door behind them with a snap.

Harry had been shuffled out with the other students, not that he'd actually wanted more time with the defense professor. He found himself falling into step with James and Sirius. James was moving about at a hurried pace, turning so that he could walk backwards and face Sirius.

"Hard to believe you managed it, eh mate," James said.

Sirius nodded, "I didn't, not all the way." Still, Harry could tell that Sirius was on the verge of celebrating. The young man couldn't seem to believe that he'd done it. Voicing this concern aloud he said, "What if the next time he casts it, I can't break it at all. What if it goes back to being the way it was...?"

"And what if the roof to the dorm caves in? Gessh, snap out of it will you? You did something even Barten can't do." James prodded his friend's shoulder.

Sirius finally smiled, his lips quirking into an expression Harry hadn't seen much. "Yeah, you're right, I'm pretty great, eh?"

James swung an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Well, you're at least the second greatest guy roaming these halls."

"No need to ask who's first," Harry muttered lightly.

Sirius caught the words and seeming to notice that Harry was trailing along behind them, he paused for a moment. "What do you think, Tempus?" he asked.

Harry found the inclusion odd. "Well, it seems like you tried to do and not do what Barten was telling you. Which is what I did first; a few more times and I had it down. I think the same will be for you."

"Well, Harry," James entered in, "Black has a slower learning curve, we might have to allow a few more lessons."

"Hey," Sirius complained, batting at James's head. The Quidditch star ducked, his face grinning.

They walked through the halls for a moment more. Harry found it odd that he was among them, and not really in the sense that they were dead and that he was from the future. No, perhaps just on another level he was interested in how he was almost fitting into their world. He'd never have expected to, but there was something about their camaraderie that left him feeling peaceful, if not a bit nostalgic. He almost wondered what would happen, if he really were Harry Tempus and what the years would hold if this was his home and this was his place. It was foolish to think on this, of course. But he knew it was unavoidable, now that he had met them and found a place for himself amid their lives.

"That Barten is an odd bugger, eh?" James questioned. "You don't think he's a little like a vampire do you? He's always sneaking up on me."

"He vants to drink your blood," Sirius said, leaping at James and nearly latching onto his neck.

Harry grinned at the James tried to fight off an advancing Sirius. Harry knew this was a moment that Alice would have loved, it would have certainly been proof that her fantasies had some validity. If only he had a camera.

Now that was an idea.