A/N: I know, I know. It’s been nearly a year. I got too many stories to try and keep track of, and this kinda fell through the cracks. I will try to update again before next summer.

“Gran, I need to breathe…GRAN!”

Harry and Dudley, watching from a distance, nearly doubled over in laughter at Neville’s red and embarrassed face. His grandmother was in the middle of hugging the stuffing out of him, and Neville was having a hard time keeping his feet on the ground, what with the force of her embrace.

“I am so proud of you!” the Longbottom Matriarch exclaimed, alternating between hugging her grandson and pinching his cheeks with both hands, “You were amazing!”

Neville blushed deeply and stared at his feet, not noticing the pained, serious look that passed his grandmother’s face.

“Neville,” she said earnestly, “Come sit with me a moment.”

The boy followed her, curious and a little worried. His usually stern grandmother took both his hands in her own.

“Neville…” the child looked at her in confusion. Mrs Longbottom looked nervous. He definitely wasn’t used to Gran being nervous.

“Did I do something wrong, Gran?” he offered. He usually did, after all.

“No. Oh, no, you did nothing wrong,” she shook her head sadly, “We…I did something wrong.”

Neville’s eyes widened almost comically. “B-but…”

“Neville, the things that Uncle Algie did to you…the things I let happen to you…”

“You were afraid I was a Squib,” Neville nodded. After all, that was what he had been told all this time. Being a Squib obviously was worse than death.

“We went too far,” the woman said, disgusted with herself as the memory of a tiny boy, crying all the while as she dragged him to the hospital to heal his arm, assaulted her.

Neville startled.

“I never realized you could have been killed,” she said, shaking her head with a sigh, “I am ashamed that I considered broken bones and bruises an acceptable risk.”

Neville looked down. “That’s okay,” he muttered, “You don’t want a Squib. Mum and Dad would be ashamed of me if I were one. I thought that is why it didn’t matter if I got killed.”

His grandmother gasped. “Neville! Of course it would have mattered to me!”

The boy’s puzzlement was obvious. “But you said it all the time. “I don’t raise Squibs,” you said. And when I had to go to St Mungo’s after I nearly drowned, you said you were glad Mum and Dad weren’t sane enough to see me like that.”

“Oh, Neville…” the old woman sagged a little. The stern set of her lips lost as they trembled.

“I never meant that,” she said softly, pulling her grandson to her, “you are all I have left. I never meant to hurt you.”

Neville squirmed uncomfortably. Crying girls were bad enough, but crying grandmothers? That would have to be the end of the world. Fortunately, from the corner of his eye, he saw Professor McGonagall coming to his rescue. It was with great relief and a good deal of confusion he left his distraught relative to his professor.

sssssssssssss

Headmaster Sforza clapped Harry on his back.

“You are doing well, young man,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry hesitated. “Sir…this Sirius Black…”

His headmaster nodded, waiting for the boy to go on.

“Uncle Severus just said to be extra careful, but he would not explain why. He got angry with me, I think, when I asked him,” Harry confided in his Headmaster.

The older man sighed. The hurts from his childhood still got to Severus from time to time, and he could be very impatient, even bad-tempered when it came to the topic of Sirius Black. Of course Severus would not have explained anything to the boy – merely having to mention his one-time nemesis would have been difficult for him already. It required no great imagination to see that Severus would simply have told Harry to be careful of Black, and then stalk away in a bad mood without telling the boy anything.

But Harry had done no wrong, and needed to know what to expect. Leaving the boy with a vague warning would leave him uninformed, but also make him curious, and curious uninformed children would take insane risks. It was best to inform them properly or not at all, in Headmaster Sforza’s opinion. Unfortunately, that was not his call to make.

“I am sure he was not angry with you, Harry,” he said, brow furrowing in thought, “I am not at liberty, of course, to disclose your uncle’s private affairs, but you can be certain it was not you, or your questions that were truly angering him. I am likewise not at liberty to inform you of this situation without the consent of your guardians, but I do hope you are taking Severus’s warning seriously. It is better to err on the side of caution, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Harry heisted, “but may I Floo my aunt and uncle? Perhaps they will tell me…”

ssssssssss

A quick Floo conference brought Petunia and Vernon to Hogwarts. Headmaster Sforza gathered all parties together, including a brooding Severus, whom he had to speak firmly to before the younger wizard would consent to coming.

Harry approached Severus with some caution when his uncle stalked into the room.

“I…Are you still angry with me?” he asked, biting his lip.

That slight fear on the child’s face, more than the lecture he had gotten from the Headmaster, got through to Severus and he ran a hand over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he pat the boy’s shoulder, “I was never angry with you, and I apologise for making you feel that way. I…”

“Come sit down, honey,” Petunia motioned to Harry, “and we will explain.”

Settling next to his aunt on the couch, Harry watched the adults expectantly. Headmaster Sforza leaned forward.

“What do you remember of Sirius Black, Harry?”

“Remember?” Harry asked in surprise, “I knew him?”

But as he asked, vague, forgotten memories surfaced. When his parents were alive, Remus had visited, that much he remembered. Remus was here, now, too, helping to guard the school. But there had been others…a man with a dog-like laugh, who enjoyed tossing him up in the air and catching him again, and the worried exclamations of his mother as the man did so.

“I think I remember him,” Harry said uncertainly, “who is he?”

“He was a friend of your father in school,” Uncle Vernon said, his voice disapproving, “Petunia and I only met him once, at your parents’ wedding.”

Petunia shuddered. “It was horrible.”

Harry looked at them all in turn, bemused. “What was horrible?”

Severus cleared his throat. “Sirius Black was a bully,” he fought to keep his voice level, “who delighted in tormenting those weaker than him. I am sorry to say your father and his friends went along with it, although your father and Remus eventually grew up.”

Headmaster Sforza took over again, seeing how difficult the conversation was to the other adults.

“Sirius Black tormented your Uncle Severus throughout his schoolyears, and pulled a very cruel prank on your aunt and uncle at the wedding,” he said gently, “but he was your fathers best friend, and your parents named him your godfather. That is what made the events afterwards all the more tragic…”

“Sirius Black was in Azkaban, Harry, because he betrayed your parents to that Dark Lord,” Petunia took one of Harry’s hands, “he betrayed his best friends, and got them killed. Then he fled, and killed another of your parents friends who had gone after him, Peter Pettigrew, as well as a dozen innocent bystanders.”

Harry gasped and stared at them, his mouth open. “He…he did?”

“Black was their Secret Keeper,” Severus muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

Harry’s eyes opened wide. “They cast a Fidelius, and he betrayed them?”

Headmaster Sforza felt a completely misplaced but sincere surge of pride in his charge. The Fidelius was not on the curriculum in the lower years – apparently Harry had been doing some research in sections of the library meant for more advanced students. Though they did not have a truly restricted section, the librarians usually kept a close eye on the younger students’ choice of books, and kept them away from anything unsuitable. Though the Fidelius Charm in and of itself was not considered unsuitable reading material, the information about it was found in books that also contained other charms that were highly unsuitable for a child of Harry’s age. All students were aware of these unspoken restrictions, so Harry must have managed to deliberately escape the notice of the librarians.

The boy realized his mistake also, apparently, because he blushed slightly and cast a quick look at his Headmaster, who gave him a look that was both reassuring him that there would not be any consequences for his indiscretion, as well as promising him a talk later on about the importance of library rules.

Luckily for Harry, the other adults were too preoccupied with their own bad memories of one Sirius Black to catch the byplay.

“Reports say that Sirius Black was preoccupied with you ever since the competition started,” Severus sighed, “that idiotic Minister of Magic gave him a newspaper. The guards reported that ever since that day, Black could be heard muttering ‘he’s at Hogwarts’ over and over again. That can only mean you. Do you see, Harry, why we want you to be careful? Security is tight, but please, don’t do anything stupid.”

ssssssss

Lucius Malfoy sat in his study, sipping a glass of hundred-year old firewhiskey, laid up in the cellar by his great-grandfather.

“Dear?” Narcissa entered, a worried frown on her face. Her dress robes suggested she had only just returned from some tedious social gathering Lucius had managed to avoid.

“Lucius, what is the matter?”

He looked up. “Draco sends his greetings.” He held up his glass.

“Did you see him?” his wife settled on the arm of his chair.

“Oh, I saw him. Spoke to him. He lost his duel, but only because the boy he fought has been trained by a master since he was seven years old. Draco did quite well.”

He hiccupped. “Excuse me. Did you know Draco is afraid of me?”

Narcissa stroked his hair. “Draco loves you, dear,” she assured him.

“I know. Did you know what Severus said? He said that if Draco had been born a month later, in July, he would have fit the prophecy. Severus said that the Dark Lord would have told us to hand Draco over to be killed – perhaps even requiring that we kill our son.”

Narcissa paled, and the hand she reached out to her husband trembled. “Our Lord would not…”

Lucius looked at her, his eyes clear despite obviously being a little under influence. “Would he not? Do you honestly think so?”

Narcissa bit her lip. “He…he….but Draco was born in June! It does not matter. It never was an issue!”

“Might become so,” Lucius downed his glass in one go, “Draco is afraid of me because I push him. If I continue to push him, I may lose my son’s love. If I do not push him, he may not join our cause. If he does not join…”

Tears ran down the lily white skin of his wife.

“Severus said that we might have to end up choosing between our son and our Lord,” Lucius poured himself another drink.

“Igor can…”

“Igor is a coward,” Lucius spat, “Draco will learn nothing from him. Already he begins to see that his headmaster is a weak-willed liar.”

He sighed, and played with a strand of his wife’s hair. “Do you ever wonder, Narcissa, if we made the right choice?”

sssssssss

“Ah, here it is!” Hermione pulled out a newspaper and unfolded it to show the front page.

A large picture of the arriving students from the Institution decorated it. Harry was clearly visible against the background of the castle, with the Hogwarts students littering the stairs.

“So this guy is your godfather?” Dudley asked with interest.

“Yeah, I don’t really remember him very well. I think I liked him, but hey, I was only three or four.”

Harry’s eyes grew dark. “He was their friend, and he betrayed them! I don’t want to know him.”

He hesitated. “I think I would want to know why, though.”

“Because he’s a murdering lunatic?” Dudley suggested the obvious.

“Well, he was friends with Harry’s father long before he could even have joined the Death Eaters,” Hermione pointed out, “why would he betray his friend?”

“Because you can’t betray an enemy,” Dudley muttered, but before Hermione could ask him what he said, he added, louder, “But Harry’s father married a Muggleborn. He was probably so angry about that he decided uncle James was no longer his friend.”

Neville, who had been quietly reading the article, shrugged. “I don’t think it really matters. I don’t want to know why those Death Eaters tortured my parents, I just want to make them pay.”

Harry nodded

sssssssss

The day of Harry and Neville’s duel drew near. The two had been practicing a lot, mostly against Dudley.

Dudley sometimes regretted having lost to Neville, but on the other hand, he was now free from the pressure and could enjoy watching the other duels. Besides, he kept his skills up by being sparring partner to his friends.

Honestly, he was not sure which one of them would win. Harry was faster and better trained, but Neville could be very determined and creative when he got into the right mindset. The right mindset being, able to forget he was fighting a friend and trying not to hurt them. If he overcame that urge, he could be quite vicious.

The duel was planned for the evening, and both Harry and Neville were too nervous to eat a lot of dinner. Dudley suppressed the urge to point and laugh, and managed to sound sympathetic to both of them.

Now that the duels were becoming more intense, they had a much bigger audience. The reporters weren’t around much anymore – they had covered the start of the tournament and would be back for the later duels, but now they simply published the results in the papers and rarely bothered to come in person – but the students of the Institutio and Hogwarts had taken to watching each duel. All duels now took place in the Great Hall for that reason.

At 9, the duelling stage had been set up, Harry and Neville were changed into their duelling robes, and stretching in preparation.

Just as they climbed onto the dais, however, a scream startled all students and staff. Within moments, the agitated caretaker came hurrying into the Hall.

“Headmaster!” he reported, “the Fat Lady, her portrait has been torn! She has gone missing!”

With a few commands issued to the portraits in the Hall, Dumbledore ordered everyone to stay in the Hall and the teachers to guard every entrance to it.

It did not take a very long time for him to return, and confer quietly with the others. Harry and Neville were close enough to overhear.

“Sirius Black attacked her when she would not allow him access to Gryffindor Tower,” Headmaster Dumbledore said, worriedly, “We will need to conduct a search of the castle and grounds.”

“The students must remain in the Hall, with guards, until we are done,” Headmaster Sforza said, “someone had better alert Igor and Olympe.”

“We cannot count on Igor,” the two Headmasters shared a knowing glance, “keep an eye on the Durmstrang ship.”

“May I have your attention please,” Headmaster Dumbledore addressed the students, “I am sorry to say Sirius Black has been spotted. For your safety, all of you must remain in the Hall until we have cleared the entire school and grounds. I am afraid we will have to postpone the duel until tomorrow evening.”

He waved his wand, and the duel set-up disappeared.

“Oh, and you will need…” another wave, and hundreds of soft squishy sleeping bags appeared.

Two teachers remained to stand guard over the students, as well as the Institutio Sixth years and the Hogwarts Seventh years. The others, after the buzzing of worried conversations had died down, simply shrugged and found sleeping bags. Harry, Hermione, Neville and Dudley found themselves a quiet corner and settled down. Harry’s heart pounded in his throat, but a strange detail did not escape his notice.

“Why would Sirius Black want to enter Gryffindor Tower? The paper clearly states I am not a Hogwarts student. Even if he assumed the Institutio students are staying in the castle itself, why would he go to Gryffindor?”

“Apparently he was in Gryffindor, as were your parents,” Hermione answered quietly, “he has been in Azkaban a long time, Harry. People go insane quickly in that place. Gryffindor Tower is the most familiar part of the castle to him, so he went there to look for you.”

The four tried to go to sleep, but it was hard – Harry felt like going into fetal position and hoping no one would notice him. Eventually, footsteps passed the Hall, and he peeked. Uncle Severus and the Headmaster of Hogwarts were walking through the Hall, nodding at their guards who were standing watch over the various entrances. Finally they stopped near Harry, and Harry could almost feel Uncle Severus’s eyes on him. A hand reached down and pulled up his sleeping bag a little higher.

“I am sure the boy won’t be cold, Severus,” came the Headmaster’s hushed, but amused voice.

“You face Petunia if the boy does catch cold, or worse,” Uncle Severus sounded a little tense. “No sign of Black anywhere. The grounds…”

“The owlery? The towers?” Dumbledore asked.

“All searched…”

“Very well. I really did not expect him to linger,” Headmaster Dumbledore sighed.

“And no idea as to how he got in?” Uncle Severus asked, tensed.

“Many, each one as unlikely as the other.”

“You remember our earlier conversation?” Uncle Severus asked.

“I do. But I refuse to believe any of the castle’s residents would help Black in.”

“There are many guests at the moment, Headmaster. We must tighten our security.”

“Really, Severus…”

“No!” Came his uncle’s harsh whisper, “Black is dangerous, deluded and a murderer, Headmaster. Did you forget he was ready to murder at age sixteen?”

“I have forgotten nothing,” the Headmaster almost whispered.

Harry peeked through his eyelashes again and saw the Headmaster reach out to put a hand on Uncle Severus’s shoulder, who angrily shrugged it off.

With a sorrowful expression the Headmaster let his hand drop to his side.

“The Ministry is once more pressing for Dementor guards.”

“Preposterous, in a school full of children.”

“I agree,” the Headmaster nodded, “I told them no Dementor would cross the threshold of Hogwarts while I am Headmaster. I know you want him caught…”

“Caught, and Kissed,” Severus hissed, more bitter and vindictive than Harry had ever heard him. Whatever Sirius Black had done to Uncle Severus, it must have been bad for him to be so angry still after all this time.

“I understand,” the Headmaster’s voice was…contrite? How odd.

“I suppose there’s little point in waking them now,” Uncle Severus reached down again and stroked some hair from Dudley’s face.

“No, let them sleep. For it is in our dreams that we enter a world entirely of our own.”

Harry could almost see Uncle Severus’s scowl, even though his eyes were closed.

“Ahem,” the Headmaster had apparently also noticed the look, “too melodramatic?”

“Way,” Uncle Severus’s short reply was tinged with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “I will stay here tonight, Headmaster. Go get some sleep.”

With the knowledge that Uncle Severus was close by, watching over him, Harry finally managed to drift off into sleep.

sssssssss

The next evening Neville and Harry finally faced off against each other. Harry had shared what he heard with his friends, and all were happy to see that Headmaster Sforza returned from the Ministry pleased, and no sign of Dementors anywhere.

“It was simple, really,” Headmaster Sforza had commented privately to Severus, “I explained to the Minister that Dementors do not belong near children, and that I could not subject my students to both the threat of Black and the Dementors. I told him I would be taking my students home with me and withdraw from the Tournament, and that I was fairly certain Madam Maxime, at least, would do the same. The Minister quite quickly saw reason after that.”

Hagrid had volunteered to do extra patrol during the duel with some of the Hippogryffs. Neville and Hermione had seen them during class and taken their friends to see them. Hagrid was always happy to show off his pets, and the four felt in awe of the majestic beasts.

Harry felt sorry Hagrid would not be here – the large man had been very supportive of all three of them and came to watch most of their duels. But they had promised him they would come down to his hut the next day to give a hex-by-hex account of the duel.

Harry and Neville bowed.

“Oooh, this is going to be good,” Dudley gleefully rubbed his hands together, “Neville is in killing mode. Harry is really going to have to earn his victory.”

Severus had to agree – Neville was completely focussed. Although his spell knowledge and magical power were no match for Harry, not to mention Harry’s speed outstripped some of the best Institutio Sixth years, Neville was a very capable wizard and could get awfully creative when the mood struck him.

Neville was well aware that the only way to win was to catch Harry off guard. So as soon as the referee gave the sign, he fired a series of spells, knowing Harry generally preferred to start on the defensive and test his opponent’s strength.

The first was a tangle of vines, catching Harry around the knees. The second, a Petrificus Totalis, was aimed at his chest.

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, but he made clever use of the vines keeping him upright by bending his entire upper body backwards, out of the way of the spell. Then he quickly Vanished the vines, and put up a shield just in time to catch Neville’s Disarming hex.

Panting slightly, Harry found he had no time for careful evaluation, but was forced to retaliate immediately. He shot off spells in quick succession, knowing Neville wasn’t nearly as fast on his feet as he was.

Neville did have trouble with the barrage of spells, but instead of trying to avoid all of them, quickly Summoned one of the large mirrors from the Hall walls. Holding it in front of him, much to the chagrin of the mirror, which protested loudly, Harry’s spells were reflected back at their caster. Harry was doing a very comical dance to avoid all of them, but was hit in the chest by a bludgeoning hex that threw him off his feet, and would leave his ribs bruised for a day or two. He gasped, and Neville, who got rid of the mirror, saw his chance.

Unfortunately for him, Harry also saw his chance. Casting a jelly legs jinx, followed by a stunner aimed just below Neville, the boy fell, his spell flew harmlessly towards the ceiling and he hit the Stunner on his way down. It was one of the most intense, but shortest duels in the whole series.

Once Harry’s ribs were healed and Neville was revived, both received a round of applause. Headmaster Sforza offered Neville the chance to attend the summer course in Dueling and Spellcraft at the Institutio as a reward for his performance. Neville, despite his disappointment over the loss, beamed with pride and resolved to write his grandmother that same evening.

ssssssssss

The next day, after lunch, the four walked towards the Astronomy tower for a class.

“We should not forget to visit Hagrid later,” Neville reminded them.

“Yes. Lets go after class and have tea with him,” Harry suggested, “Dud, what are you doing?”

“I hear meowing,” Dudley said. He followed the sound and found Mrs Norris, glaring at a cowering rat.

“Look at that! Ksst. Move, cat!” Dudley picked up the quivering rat as a grumpy Mrs Norris went in search of Filch. He would not deny her a tasty treat, like those mean students.

“What’s that?”

“A rat. Someone must have lost it, it is tame,” Dudley stuck it in his pocket, “I’ll keep it for now and ask around at dinner to see if someone’s missing it.”

The rat seemed content enough, dozing off in Dudley’s pocket and sleeping harmlessly throughout the Astronomy lesson.

After the lessons, they quickly grabbed some treats to eat on their way to Hagrid – Hagrid was cool, and he had awesome creatures to show them, but his cooking was abysmal and it was a long time until dinner. They told Uncle Severus where they were going, and promised him to be careful. But Hagrid’s hut was on the grounds, there were patrols active and they would take no detours.

Hagrid greeted them enthusiastically and with pint-sized mugs of hot, strong tea, which they bravely sipped at. The big man clapped Harry on the back, and patted Neville’s shoulder sympathetically when they told him the outcome of the duel. Both boys rubbed the sore spots when Hagrid wasn’t looking, and did a re-enactment of their duel for him.

It was already getting a little dark when they returned to the castle to get some dinner. The whomping willow was almost waving at them when they walked past, and the quiet on the ground was a pleasant change from the current buzz of the castle, with all the extra people.

“I hope its chicken,” Dudley said, “I…AAAHHHH!!!”

From out of nowhere, a massive black dog launched itself at him, pulling at him, dragging him towards the Whomping Willow.

“HAAAARRYYYYY!!!!! HEEELP!! Help me!!!” was the last they heard before Dudley disappeared, with the dog, beneath the tree.