Written in the Stars - Dancing with Dragons

Dancing with Dragons

It was with a frown that Harry made his way to the Hogwarts library, having no doubt that was where he would find Viktor. He had been spending considerable time here recently, researching for the first task.

Entering, Harry was met with the stern glare of the woman who was in charge; one he had been warned not to get on the wrong side of if he didn’t wish to be stalked amongst the stacks whenever he came here.

Madame Pince was no different to the miserable spinster who worked in the Durmstrang library, both running their establishments with an iron fist.

Perhaps all librarians were the same?

Harry shook his head of the distracting thought.

It was not Madame Pince he had come to see.

Hearing Viktor’s muttering voice a short distance away, he peered around the corner to find the Bulgarian in conversation with a familiar girl, the two of them leaning over a table, their heads almost touching as they poured over a large tome.

“Well, isn’t this cosy?” Harry snorted as he rounded the corner, startling the duo.

Viktor scowled at him whilst Hermione blushed and began stammering a poor excuse of sorts.

Harry waved her off and took a seat, ignoring the irritated look Viktor sent his way.

“So, how did it go?” Harry pressed.

Viktor shrugged.

“My wand is fine,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Harry returned, his gaze shifting to the shorter and thicker than average wand on the table. “I always thought it was unsightly.”

“I like my wand,” Viktor defended.

“And that’s all that matters,” Harry cooed, patting him on the cheek.

Viktor brushed his hand away as he grinned.

“What’s funny?” Harry asked.

“Just that you have another fan.”

“A fan?”

“Well, a journalist that is very interested in speaking with you. She seems to be quite determined.”

Harry released a deep sigh as he shook his head.

“It would be in her best interest to not attempt it,” he murmured irritably. “I’ve been taught how to handle journalists.”

“You should be careful of this one,” Hermione urged. “Her name is Rita Skeeter, and she is a nasty woman. If she doesn’t get what she wants from you, she will just make it up.”

“Oh, I hope she does,” Harry declared. “I will bury the woman in so many legal problems that she won’t have the time to scratch her arse, let alone another article.”

Viktor laughed approvingly but Hermione did not seem to be convinced.

“She’s a ghastly woman, Harry, and even the Minister hasn’t been able to stop her writing about him,” she explained.

“I am not the Minister,” Harry pointed out. “I am not bound by any professional courtesies nor do I care about what she thinks she might be able to do with me. If she attempts to write anything untoward about me, I will ruin what remains of her life.”

Viktor nodded his agreement.

“Anyway, what are you two doing in here, huddled up in your little secretive corner?” Harry asked, changing the subject.

“We are not huddled!” Hermione huffed, “but I do need to get class. I’ll see you later, Viktor.”

“Wait,” Harry requested, taking the girl by the arm. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift,” Hermione asked suspiciously as Viktor rolled his eyes.

Harry nodded as he removed something from his pocket and offered it to the girl.

“It’s a seed,” she acknowledged with a frown.

“It is,” Harry agreed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just watch.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as it began to sprout, growing until the head of the rose curled open.

“How did you do that?” Hermione whispered as she accepted the flower.

“Magic,” Harry answered with a wink. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Hermione.”

The girl nodded and took her leave of the library.

“Show off,” Viktor snorted amusedly.

“I felt like doing something nice for her,” Harry replied with a shrug. “She doesn’t have many friends here.”

“I know,” Viktor sighed. “She prefers the company of books.”

“Is that how the two of you met?”

The Bulgarian nodded.

“I was researching dragons, and she just sat down and started talking about them with me. She’s a smart girl.”

“She is,” Harry agreed. “Are you…?”

Viktor frowned questioningly before shaking his head.

“No,” he said firmly. “She’s only fourteen. It’s just nice having someone else to talk to.”

“Viktor, there are hundreds of people here,” Harry pointed out.

“Who only want to talk about Quidditch,” Viktor muttered. “She hasn’t mentioned it once. It’s nice being treated normally.”

“I get it,” Harry sympathised clapping the older boy on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, and for her. Just be careful. If that journalist is as bad as Hermione says, she might try and spin this as something it isn’t.”

“I will be,” Viktor promised. “Even if she does write anything, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind helping me out. This is your home country, after all.”

Harry nodded.

“Of course,” he promised. “I won’t have a bad word said against you.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Viktor replied gratefully.

“You’d do the same,” Harry chuckled as he stood. “Anyway, I just wanted to see how the wand ceremony went. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need anything, let me know. Not that I think you will, not with the lovely Miss Graner offering you her assistance.”

“Piss off,” Viktor returned with a scowl, aiming a punch at Harry’s arm.

The younger boy danced out of the way of it with a hearty laughed and offered the Bulgarian a wave before heading towards the exit, pausing as he heard a crash and someone cursing under their breath.

Passing one of the aisles dedicated to the works pertaining to magical creatures, he spotted the French champion scrambling to gather the books she had dropped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ever-vigilant Madame Pince stalking towards the disturbance.

Thinking quickly, Harry drew his wand, and with a wave, the books that were on the ground were returned to the shelf, nothing seemingly amiss as the librarian appeared at the other end of the row.

“What was that?” the woman demanded sharply.

Before the startled French girl could answer, Harry spoke, eliciting a frown from her.

“My apologies, Madame Pince, I wasn’t looking where I was going and almost walked into the young lady here. No harm done.”

The librarian’s gaze swept across the shelves, looking for anything that may have been damaged, but with nothing evident, she narrowed her eyes at Harry.

“Then you should be more careful in the future,” she huffed before turning and stomping away from the duo.

“Have a nice day, Madame,” Harry called. “Miserable cow,” he added in a mutter before turning towards the blonde who was eying him curiously.

“What was that?” she questioned cautiously.

“Are you not familiar with Madame Pince?”

“Non,” the girl answered.

“If she would have caught you with those books on the floor, you wouldn’t be allowed back in here.”

“You sound as though you are speaking from experience.”

“Not me, but I’ve seen her reduce a first year to tears,” Harry explained.

The French girl raised a delicate brow in his direction.

“Well, then I should thank you, but I do not scare so easily.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you do,” Harry replied, nodding to the books she held, all of them depicting one topic.

She held them protectively to her chest as she swallowed deeply.

“You know?”

Harry shrugged.

“Cheating is a traditional part of the tournament, isn’t it?”

“I am not cheating,” the girl hissed defensively.

Harry held his hands up placatingly.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” he snorted. “Viktor had made no secret of the fact that he knows, and I expect Madame Maxime was the one to tell you, as Karkaroff told him.”

Delacour frowned at him suspiciously.

“What if she did?”

“I couldn’t care less,” Harry chuckled. “It would be stupid to go against a dragon without being prepared. It’s stupid enough doing it when you are.”

The French champion nodded her agreement.

“So, we all know?”

“I don’t think Diggory does,” Harry chuckled. “If he did, he wouldn’t be walking around with that stupid grin on his face, not unless he is an expert dragon handler.”

“Well, that is less competition for me,” Delacour replied with a shrug.

Harry nodded his agreement.

“Anyway, I will wish you luck and leave you to your studies,” he declared. “That book there will have all the information you will need,” he added, pointing to one of the tomes she held.

“Why would you help me?”

“I’m not,” Harry responded with a smirk. “You already have what you need, I’m only preventing you from wasting time. I cannot stand wasted time, not when it can be used for more useful pursuits.”

The girl actually smiled at him, an expression he had not seen on the very few occasions he had seen her around the castle.

“Thank you, Harry Potter,” she offered sincerely.

Harry offered her a bow.

“I wish you good fortune in the tournament,” he said. “Of course, I will be rooting for Viktor, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you perform admirably.”

“I will win,” Fleur declared firmly.

“Maybe you will,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Regardless, I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

With that, Harry exited the library.

The French girl was interesting, a veela judging by the passive magic he could feel radiating from her, not to mention the affect she had on most of the other male students in the castle.

Not that such a thing mattered to Harry.

If anything, with how defensive and guarded she was, he suspected it meant more to her than it did anyone else, other than the typical bigots, something of which Hogwarts had its fair share of, just as Durmstrang did.

(Break)

It was a sense of nervous excitement that filled Sirius as he paced the hallway of Grimmauld Place, waiting for the moment the clock struck midday.

He had not expected a response to his letter, nor had he thought for a moment that Remus would accept his invitation to meet, but much to his surprise, the werewolf had agreed to visit him.

“Come on,” Sirius grumbled, urging the clock to chime.

He had been preparing himself all morning for what was to come, assuring himself that his childhood friend would be as happy to see him as Sirius would be to see Remus.

Or would he?

So much had happened since they had last been together, so many things that Sirius would give his life for to change.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clock he had been pleading with to announce the coming of the afternoon, and with it, the anticipation he felt melted away leaving him feeling worried once more.

Nonetheless, he released a deep breath as he opened the front door just enough so that he could look outside, where he was met by the sight of the werewolf who had once been like a brother to him.

Remus was as pale as ever, sporting more scars than Sirius remembered, and his formerly brown hair was liberally flecked with grey.

Still, there was no mistaking the man.

“Sirius,” Remus greeted him warily with a stiff nod.

Sirius swallowed deeply as he opened the door to allow the man in, his throat dry as he struggled to find some words with which to speak.

Before he could, however, Remus shook his head.

“I’m sorry, old friend, for Peter getting away.”

Sirius waved him off.

“It doesn’t matter. Peter will get what is coming to him eventually. It will only be all the sweeter when it happens.”

Remus nodded his agreement.

“Then I’m sorry for believing that you could ever…”

Sirius held up a hand to silence the man.

He did not wish to discuss his own foolishness which had led to the many years he’d spent in Azkaban.

“It was my fault,” he sighed. “I allowed my anger and heartbreak to cloud my judgement. The only person who deserves any apology is Harry.”

“How is he?” Remus asked.

Sirius shrugged.

“I don’t know, I’ve not seen him.”

“You’ve not seen him?”

“Cassie has not allowed it,” Sirius grumbled. “I don’t think she has even told him I’m here yet. It’s understandable really. He has spent his whole life believing that it was me who was the cause of James and Lily dying. It will take him time to adjust.”

Remus offered him a sympathetic smile.

“I did hear he is at Durmstrang and doing rather well.”

Sirius nodded.

“He is, but he is spending the year at Hogwarts because of the tournament.”

“The tournament?” Remus questioned with a frown.

“Have you not read the paper? It’s all the prophet has been printing.”

“I’ve been avoiding it,” Remus murmured. “After what happened with Peter…”

Sirius nodded his understanding.

“Well, they’ve reinstated the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

“And Harry is competing?” Remus gasped.

“No, he is there helping Viktor Krum with his Quidditch training.”

“The Viktor Krum? The Bulgarian Seeker?”

Sirius snorted as he nodded.

“I know, I found it to be a surprise too, but apparently, Harry is just as good as James ever was on a broom.”

Remus smiled.

“James would like that, Lily, not so much.”

Sirius chuckled.

“It was bad enough when I brought him his training broom, do you remember?”

“I thought she was going to kill you,” Remus laughed, both men falling silent when the amusement had faded.

“It’s good to see you, Moony,” Sirius offered sincerely.

“You too,” the werewolf returned. “Wait, do you think we could send something to Harry?”

“Send him what?” Sirius asked with a frown.

“Well, when I was teaching last year, I came into possession of this,” he explained, removing a familiar piece of weathered parchment from within his robes.

“Is that?...”

Remus nodded.

“The map,” he confirmed. “I confiscated it from a couple of Weasleys who had somehow gotten it. It’s not doing me any good keeping it, but maybe Harry can make use of it.”

“From what Cassie has told me, he certainly would,” Sirius sighed whimsically. “According to her, Harry is quite the troublemaker.”

“Does that really surprise you?”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t,” he replied with a grin. “Let’s find Cassie and see if she will pass it on.”

With that, the two of them headed towards the study that the woman spent much of her time when she was at the house, and Sirius knocked on the door.

“Come in,” the voice of his aunt called.

“Just let me talk,” Sirius murmured as he pushed open the door.

Seated behind the desk surrounding by swathes of parchment was Cassiopeia Black, one of the most notorious witches to come out of Britain in recent history.

“What can I do for you, Sirius?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Sirius didn’t know why, but there was always something about the woman that unsettled him.

Perhaps it was the many stories he had heard about her when he was growing up, or she just had a talent for putting people on edge.

Remus too was nervous in her presence, something she seemingly enjoyed.

“I was hoping that you could pass something on to Harry for us,” Sirius explained, placing the piece of parchment on the desk.

“What is it?” Cassiopeia questioned, eying the map with distaste.

“Something we helped make when we were at Hogwarts,” Sirius explained. “Since James was a part of it, Harry should have it. It’s a map of the castle and grounds and identifies anyone who is in the castle with their location. I’ll show you.”

Tapping the piece of parchment with the tip of his wand and muttering the phrase he had done so countless times during their years at Hogwarts, he watched as the familiar scrawl filled the front, and Cassiopeia picked it up, humming thoughtfully.

“I must say, this is quite impressive,” she declared. “How did you make it?”

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“More by accident than anything else,” he admitted. “We were trying to make a map, but it turned out better than we could hope.”

Cassiopeia nodded as her eyes trailed over the parchment, sighing as she placed it down and pointed to a section on it.

“He is talking to a girl in the library,” she murmured. “A French one by the looks of it.”

“He’s a ladies man,” Sirius laughed, eliciting a scowl from his aunt.

“He is,” she agreed. “Many of his friends are females who have more than a passing interest in him. Not that he realises it yet, or if he does, he is feigning ignorance. I’d rather he kept it, up if truth be told.”

“Does he have many friends?” Sirius asked curiously.

Cassiopeia nodded.

“He does,” she confirmed. “He’s too kind for his own good at times, and then that other side of him occasionally rears its head and reminds everyone that his kindness is far from weakness. He is ruthless when provoked, and fiercely protective of his friends, whether they are a witch, wizard, or creature. He treats them all the same.”

“A creature?” Sirius pressed.

“Harry has made friends with werewolves, vampires, and even a half-elf,” Cassie explained somewhat proudly. “Such associations will do him no good if they become known in the future, but he won’t care. As he rightly says, his enemies are plenty, so who cares if another few chooses to become one of them.”

Sirius could only shake his head as his gaze shifted to Remus.

The man wore a proud smile, and once more, Sirius was reminded of how kind James could be.

It was him that had urged them all to become Animagi so that they could help Remus during the nights of the full moon, and it had been James who had guided them through the process.

He truly had been a marvel at transfiguration.

“So, will you pass it on?” Sirius questioned.

Cassiopeia released a deep sigh as she nodded.

“Write a note for him if you wish,” she instructed. “I will speak with him and explain that you are here, but it will be up to him what he wishes to do with the information. I will not have him pressured into anything he is not ready for.”

Sirius readily agreed to the terms and took a seat to pen a letter to his godson, pausing when he realised that he didn’t know where to begin.

(Break)

It was with a trembling hand that Viktor removed the model from the bag, the red scales of the dragon revealing just which of the creatures he had seen in the forest he would be facing.

“The Chinese Fireball,” Bagman announced.

Viktor released a deep breath as he eyed the number on the beasts’ chest.

He would be going first, but even if he was to be last, he had no doubt that his resolve would still be wavering.

Facing off with a dragon in any context was not advisable, especially a nesting mother.

He shook his head of the many scenarios that had been plaguing his mind; the potential for being horrifically burned, being bitten, or torn to shreds by the claws.

Neither were desirable outcomes, and yet, Viktor faced the possibility of each being inflicted upon him.

“Your name will be called shortly, Mr Krum,” Bagman informed him before he and the other judges left the tent.

The Bulgarian took another deep breath as his gaze shifted towards the other champions.

Delacour was rather calm and collected.

She too knew what they were to face, but Diggory had paled considerably, shock evident across his features as he trembled.

None had thought to tell him.

“VIKTOR KRUM!”

The bellowing of his name pulled him from his thoughts, and Viktor headed towards the exit as he pondered just how he would tackle the task before him.

Hermione had suggested that he summoned a broom and attempted to outfly the dragon, an idea with merit, but one that posed too many risks.

Viktor had considered using Transfiguration as a distraction, and perhaps he still would, but he did not relish the thought of approaching the nest when the attention of the dragon could shift back towards him.

No, doing so would be an error on his part.

Still, he was not foolish to believe that he could incapacitate a dragon singlehandedly, so his options were indeed rather limited.

Bracing himself and flicking his wand into his hand, he nodded.

His plan was risky, but it was the best chance he had to escaping with his prize with his body intact.

There would be those that did not approve, but it was not them being pitted against a behemoth that had every advantage over them imaginable.

(Break)

Harry grimaced as he watched Viktor darting between the boulders, taking aim with his wand and firing curse after curse towards the furious dragon.

It was not the approach he would have chosen to take, but he understood why Viktor had.

He could not afford to risk severe, let alone permanent injury whilst competing in the tournament. Which only made Harry wonder why the boy had entered?

Viktor was not likely to admit it, but Harry knew he wanted the world to see that he was not just a Quidditch player, that despite his talent for the sport, he was indeed a gifted wizard in his own right.

The dragon’s roar as one of the spells hit its mark reverberated around the stadium, and it began to thrash, just as Harry suspected it would.

The Conjunctivitis Curse was a deeply unpleasant spell to fall victim to, even for a dragon.

Its eyes were the most vulnerable part of the creature, so it made sense for Viktor to attack them. Evidently, however, the Bulgarian had not considered the aftermath as deeply as he should have, and Harry could only shake his head as the dragon crushed a few of her own eggs.

Despite this, Viktor managed to retrieve the golden one amongst the clutch, suffering only what appeared to be minor burns to his face as the dragon shot balls of flame in desperation.

With the egg tucked under his arm, Viktor took his leave of the stadium to the sound of cheering and applause, and Harry followed suit, making his way to where he had seen the erected medical tent.

Within it, he found a groaning Viktor as he was being attended to a displeased Madame Pomfrey, yet despite the seared skin on his face, the boy offered him a smile as he spotted Harry enter.

“I got it!” he declared happily.

“You did,” Harry agreed.

“You do not agree with my method,” Viktor sighed.

“I think you could have approached it differently,” Harry mused aloud, “but you did what you had to and I will not hold it against you. You have more to lose than the others.”

Viktor smiled gratefully.

“It’s not as though I made it out unscathed,” he snorted.

“No, but maybe the slight scarring it will leave will be a reminder of sorts.”

“A reminder of what?”

“That dragons should not be messed with.”

Viktor laughed heartily as he nodded, and Madame Pomfrey covered the orange ointment she had been smearing on his cheek with a bandage.

“It will need changing every day for the next week,” the woman explained firmly. “You may get your score,” she added when Viktor nodded his understanding.

“How do you think I did?” he asked as the duo exited the tent.

Harry shrugged.

“It depends on how the judges view your performance, approach, and results. I imagine most will deduct a point or two for your method and some of the eggs being damaged, but you can expect a high score from Karkaroff.”

Viktor rolled his eyes.

“I would rather be judged fairly.”

“Karkaroff does not do fair, not when the reputation of the school is at stake.”

Viktor nodded his agreement.

They re-entered the stadium and the crowd began to cheer once more for him, and though he attempted to smile, doing so was painful, the burns he’d suffered having tightened the skin on his cheek.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE WILL NOW REVEAL THE SCORE FOR MR KRUM,” Bagman announced. “REMEMBER, EACH CHAMPION WILL BE SCORED ON THEIR PERFORMANCE OUT OF TEN.”

Bagman began the proceedings by firing an 8 into the air, a fair score as far as Viktor was concerned.

Crouch followed it with a seven, his judgement greeted with boos.

“He despises any magic that is deemed to be dark,” Harry muttered.

Dumbledore was next, and the Hogwarts headmaster gave him an eight, as did Madame Maxime who followed.

“I told you,” Harry snorted as Karkaroff gave him a 10.

Viktor shook his head.

Harry’s suspicions had indeed been correct, and though he did not believe Viktor’s performance had warranted a perfect score, he had not comported himself poorly.

“Come on,” he urged the Bulgarian, “Let’s find a seat to watch the others.”

Viktor nodded but scowled as he spotted a somewhat familiar figure on the other side of the stadium.

“Isn’t that your Aunt?” he questioned, pointing to where the woman was seated.

Harry frowned. However, his mood lifted as he found Cassiopeia amongst the crowd, her expression quite grim, but that did not prevent him from smiling at her.

However, she gave him a subtle shake of the head as he began making his way to her, insisting that he waited to do so for reasons known only to her.

With his frown deepening, Harry took a seat next to Viktor just as Fleur Delacour was announced as the next champion to complete the task.

“Well, at least you won’t have another one to do until after Christmas,” Harry chuckled, nodding towards the bandages.

“We still have the ball,” Viktor sighed.

“What ball?”

The Bulgarian grinned at the younger boy, evidently knowing something Harry didn’t.

“The Yule Ball,” he informed him. “It is held on Christmas Day as part of the celebrations of the tournament. As a champion, I will have to open it by dancing with my partner. I expect they will announce it soon.”

“Your partner?”

Viktor nodded.

“You have to attend a ball with a date. That means you too, Potter.”

“I’m not going,” Harry scoffed.

“Oh, yes you are,” Viktor countered. “Or are you too scared that you won’t be able to get a date?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry huffed. “I just don’t want to go.”

Viktor shook his head.

“You’re not getting out of it,” he said gleefully. “Karkaroff will make all of us go.”

Harry groaned as he placed his head in his hands.

“I’ll just go alone then.”

“No, that isn’t how it works,” Viktor chuckled. “You will find and escort a date. The headmaster will insist.”

“But we only brought four girls with us, and they’re all with someone else already.”

“Then you’d best start thinking about options, Potter,” Viktor snorted.

“What about you?” Harry returned with a frown.

“I’ll ask Hermione.”

Harry shook his head.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled. “Attending a ball was not part of the agreement.”

“Maybe I should have mentioned it before we came.”

“No, I think I read about it somewhere, but I was focused on the tasks,” Harry sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Fine, if I have to go then I will,” he declared. “I’ll bloody well show you up, you smug bastard.”

“Is that so?” Viktor replied.

Harry nodded.

“You might be good on a broom, but I bet you’re a terrible dancer.”

“You will see,” Viktor chuckled. “Just you worry about finding a date. I suppose you will ask Pansy.”

Harry nodded.

“I will,” he confirmed. “This might just be easier than I thought.”

Viktor scowled.

He had hoped Harry would be more perturbed about the ball than he was.

Initially, he had been, but in his typical fashion, he was adapting to what was likely something rather uncomfortable for him.

As far as Viktor knew, Harry had never even danced with a girl, but the prospect of doing so was not bothering him now as much as the Bulgarian had expected.

(Break)

The French contender’s performance had been rather intriguing. The charm she had used to send her dragon into a light slumber having proven to be effective, though Cassiopeia found it to be a rather lacklustre display.

Krum had at least made his task exciting, but the judges had seemingly been impressed, other than Karkaroff.

The man had scored her a 6 whilst the other judges had given her a 9, placing her above Viktor in the standings.

The Hogwarts champion had scored 38 overall, his performance the most entertaining of the three, but he had certainly left the most injured.

The burns on his legs would take some healing.

Nonetheless, the task was not what Cassiopeia had travelled to Hogwarts for.

No, she was merely using it as a distraction to speak with Harry; the topic of which leaving her quite nervous to broach with the boy.

With the tasks complete, she gestured for him to join her, and she exited the stadium where she then made her way to the treeline of the forest a short distance away.

Harry joined her a moment later, his gaze questioning.

Seeing no reason to delay the inevitable revelation, Cassiopeia released a deep breath.

“I found him,” she said simply.

Harry’s expression darkened and his nostrils flared the same way Arcturus’s did whenever he was angry.

“And?”

Cassiopeia sighed as she shook her head.

“I believe that he is innocent.”

Harry merely nodded.

“He is innocent of selling them out, but he is not innocent of failing in his duties.”

“He is not,” Cassiopeia agreed, “and whatever you decide to do is your choice. I will not interfere in that, but as much as it irks me to admit it, he seems to genuinely want to make it right with you. He asked me to give you this.”

Harry accepted the envelope and hesitated for a moment before opening it.

Cassiopeia watched intently as he read the missive, having done so herself as Sirius had finished penning it to the boy.

Dear Harry,

Where do I even begin?

From what Aunt Cassie has told me, an apology would mean little to you, but I’m going to give it anyway.

I’m sorry for allowing my anger to cloud my judgement, for not prioritising what James and Lily would have wished me to, and for leaving you when you needed me most.

I am not asking for forgiveness because it is something I can never forgive myself for, but I wish for us to have something meaningful, not because it is what your parents would want, but because I remember the little boy that I promised to protect with my life, the same little boy that broke Petunia’s vase with his training broom, and the same boy I held in my arms when his parents asked me to be his godfather.

I know you won’t remember this, but I do, and there has never been a time in my life that I was happiest than when James and Lily asked me to be your godfather.

For once, it felt that I had a true purpose, a reason to survive the war.

I never forgot that.

My years in Azkaban were awful, but it was knowing you were out there that kept me going, that would not allow me to be broken.

I ask only for a chance to be a part of your life, in any way that you wish.

Sirius

P.S. The enclosed piece of parchment is something we worked on at school. I imagine it will prove to be useful for you during your time at Hogwarts.

Simply tap it with your wand and say, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’

When you are finished using it, tap it again and say, ‘Mischief managed.’

Cassie watched as Harry stared interestedly at the worn parchment before following the given instructions and smirked as his eyes widened in wonder.

Her own frown, however, matched his own as it suddenly creased his brow.

“Is this real?” he asked.

Cassiopeia nodded.

“He assures me that it still works as well as it did when they created it.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully, placing a finger to his lips as he stepped around her.

“Oh, you crafty bitch!” he exclaimed.

“Excuse me?” Cassiopeia snapped as she turned, her own anger surfacing as she was greeted by the sight of a bespectacled woman forming in front of her.

Immediately, her wand was in her hand, pointed at the pleading woman.

“It is not what you think!” she defended.

“It is exactly what I think!” Harry growled. “You were spying, Skeeter. I suppose this would have made quite the scoop for you.”

Cassiopeia was dumbfounded by what had occurred in the last half-minute.

How had the woman gotten here?’

“She’s an Animagus,” Harry explained, his wand never leaving the woman, “and an unregistered one at that. I wonder how many people would be interested in learning that little piece of information? You have made some rather powerful enemies, Miss Skeeter.”

The woman was downright alarmed, and Cassie had to fight the urge to murder her where she was.

“No, I can’t go to Azkaban!” she whimpered.

“You know too much for me to let you go,” Harry sighed. “It would be easier for us if you simply vanished.”

“NO!” Skeeter pleaded. “I can be useful to you. Please, don’t kill me!”

Seeing the stadium beginning to empty, Harry seized the woman by the scruff of her robes and dragged her into the forest so they would not be seen together.

Cassie followed, pondering just what to do with the woman.

Harry was right.

Skeeter already knew too much.

“I can spy for you, get you information that they won’t even print in the prophet. I have a mountain of things already,” the reporter tried.

“What things?” Cassiopeia interjected.

“Information on just about every Lord and Lady in the country, even the key politicians.”

“The Minister?”

Skeeter nodded.

“I will give you all of it, and I will keep my silence. Just don’t kill me or give me away.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

“Alright, he agreed, “but you will provide the information, and you will write nothing derogatory about me or the Blacks. Understood?”

Skeeter nodded readily.

“And you will also carry out any task that I see fit that suit your talent.”

Once more, Skeeter nodded.

“That is the price of your life, for now,” Harry continued, “but if you give me any reason to, I will see that you vanish without a trace. Now, get out of my sight.”

Skeeter did not need telling twice, and she all but sprinted from the forest, transforming back into her beetle form as she did so.

“Is that wise, Harry?” Cassie questioned worriedly.

“It is risky,” he sighed, “but often we need to take risks. She could be useful.”

“Or she could go into hiding and print whatever she wants.”

Harry shook his head as a grin tugged at his lips.

“I marked her whilst she was a beetle,” he explained. “The only way she can be rid of it is if I do it for her. She will not be able to hide from me.”

Cassie grinned at the ingenuity of the boy.

She had indeed taught him well.

“And what about Sirius?”

Harry released a deep breath as he shrugged.

“I will meet with him when I am ready to do so,” he decided. “I need time to let this all sink in, but pass on my appreciation for the map. It will certainly come in useful.”

The grin he wore was full of mischief, and Cassiopeia could only imagine what the boy would get up to with it in his possession.

Still, nothing she said would deter him.

He may love and respect her dearly, but even that was not enough to prevent him from causing trouble.

It was in his blood to do so, and Cassie almost felt a modicum of sympathy for those at Hogwarts.

With Harry on the loose and such an item at his disposal, she doubted that anyone would be safe.

“Merlin,” she murmured simply, shaking her head as the boys’ grin only widened.