Prologue

“He’s not there.”

“What?” Sirius Black spun around, surprised that anyone was still awake in this particular ungodly hour of the night.

There was a first-year sitting on one of the couches near the Gryffindor commons room fire, lazily staring at him, seemingly completely unperturbed. She had paused from reading a suitably ironic Muggle novel. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. Why was she not screaming bloody murder because there was a dangerous escaped convict in the same room as her? Well, he was an innocent man who had been incarcerated in a living hell after being denied trial and had escaped the wizard version of Alcatraz, but she didn’t know that.

“The rat has left the building,” the girl answered laconically. “You will not find him here.” She set the book down on the table next to her and cocked her head to the side. “Why are you here again?” she asked, attempting to sound disinterested. Sirius had the feeling it was an act, judging by the fact her hands were shaking.

However, he did not know how to react to the strange grey-eyed girl, aside from calling her Pallas. On one hand, this was probably the most civilized discussion he had had in nigh twelve years. On the other hand, why was she talking to him in the first place, especially if she was so nervous? “You do know who am, right?” he asked. Maybe she was crazier than he was. (A hard thing to accomplish, according to Prongs.)

“Sirius Black, aged thirty-three, accused of the betrayal of the Potters and murder of thirteen people, former Auror,” the girl replied with a nervous smile. “Of course. I’m not blind.” She resumed her reading, and Sirius just stood there in disbelief. The girl looked back up. “You’re still here,” she stated, honestly surprised. Shrugging, she continued, “I’m Gemma, pleased to meet you. Please don’t go off on a tangent about how I shouldn’t be talking to you. I can’t sleep, and you’re the only person around I can talk to at the moment. I don’t need you lecturing me as if you’re my father.”

Sirius was very confused at this point. The girl’s—Gemma’s—logic made a degree of sense, but even if that was the case, why in God’s name did she decide to strike up a conversation with him of all people? Would she not realize that twelve years in solitary confinement were not conducive to good social skills? Hell, he had not been much of a confidant before prison. “Are you sure you want to talk to me?” he asked, just to make sure she was in her right mind and not just acting on a mind addled by sleep deprivation.

“Yes, and now I am to tell you why you are an idiot,” Gemma declared hesitantly. She set her book down on the small side table next to her. Looking as if she were trying to remember what to say, she informed him, “Chasing the rat is not a good idea if your goal is becoming guilty of one of the crimes for which you were imprisoned.” Sirius was about to protest (he did not have to listen to this girl a third his age tell him to not pursue vengeance), but she cut him off, “You would be better off convincing the wolf and then catching the rat. I recommend Veritaserum. Luna agrees, but she thinks it should be given to the rat. I think she’s right about what she sees, though.”

“Do you always talk in riddles?” Sirius asked, at a loss. “Your parents must hate it.”

“Mum gets irritated. I expect my father would find it amusing—to a degree,” Gemma replied as she smiled, vaguely wistful. “I really did expect you to go away after I started talking,” she admitted a bit nervously. “I could scream for a teacher at any moment. But you’re still here.”

Sirius glanced nervously towards the portrait-hole. The entire faculty of Hogwarts could come rushing through there any minute, and he was just standing there talking to an eleven-year-old. For God’s sake, he could be back in Azkaban in little over an hour, Dementors and all! He didn’t dare consider what would happen if he ran into one on the school grounds… and what would the Ministry do with him? Sirius glanced back at the girl, who was watching him expectantly. It seemed that she had meant the comment as a compliment, but there was a very real danger that someone else would come in and shout bloody murder, and that would be the end of Sirius Black’s Great Escape. “I have to leave,” he said as calmly as he could, but when he made to go, a third-year walked into the commons. Sirius’ breath caught in his throat as he made eye contact with the student, and he braced himself for what came next.

“SIRIUS BLACK IS IN THE CASTLE!” the red-haired boy shouted, causing Sirius to turn and run back the way he came. (He wasn’t scampering. Sirius Black did not scamper.) He noticed the girl watching him anxiously as he turned. He thought nothing of it: it was about time, really, that she realized what she had done. What manner of sane person would talk to him?

Minutes later, the teachers had swarmed into the Gryffindor commons and were making a fuss, but no one bothered to question the dark-haired girl who had struck up a conversation with a man wrongly accused of murder.

Professor Artemesia Vector could not sleep. She was sitting in her office, grading third-year Arithmancy papers. It was the same old grind, except Miss Granger had turned in her Divination paper by accident, which was always good to break the monotony. That girl really did need to cut her workload. She was excellent at Arithmancy, but obviously shared the same opinion of Divination as Professors Vector and Sinistra (although Auriga was more denying her everlasting love for a particular dungeon-dwelling, greasy git than disbelieving in a branch of magic). Speaking of denial, the professor was also in it. He had escaped, and pathetically, she couldn’t face the repercussions of that maddeningly simple thought.

It did not matter anyway. She had carried on and forgotten, like the rest of the wizarding world. It was irrelevant. Absolutely nothing should come of it. He had betrayed them all and was found guilty. Even Remus believed it, so Vector held the party line, even if it might be wrong. She had long given up, so she had relegated in her mind one of the last men she had ever thought would join Voldemort to the last circle of hell where he could burn with the rest of the traitors, because it was simply just not possible that he could be innocent.

Miss Granger, on the other hand, did know an amazing amount of Divination for one who professed to hate the class. It really was strange. What had possessed one of the most scientific-minded of the third years to take Divination? There was no rhyme or reason to it! Unlike Arithmancy, which was essentially the magical equivalent of Muggle mathematics, from simple trigonometry to number theory.

With Miss Granger’s paper set off to the side, Vector was about to move on to the next essay when Auriga burst through the door. Vector stared at her friend, who looked like she had been trapped in a room alone with Quirrel again. Trying to keep a passive face, Vector asked, “What brings you to my office at two in the morning? Do you need help stalking various male members of the faculty, or is this a different kind of social call?”

“That was only … twice!” Auriga replied in an attempt to defend herself. She shook her head and continued much more seriously, “We need to talk about something else.” Vector did not like the look on her friend’s face. She usually took calculated risks (not that once events were set in motion was the risk calcuable), but she figured that it would be best to just let Auriga continue, despite her hesitation to do so. “Um, he came back, Arty, but he didn’t do anything,” Auriga continued. “It doesn’t make much sense, does it? I mean, His Gitness is convinced of the worst, but you got to admit it’s strange behavior.”

Vector shrugged and replied darkly, “I don’t pretend to know how that man thinks, Auriga. He hasn’t made much sense for a long time. I can only guess he feels guilty. It always made him irrational.” She shook her head and continued acidly, “Then again, he cannot get away with what he did simply based on temporary insanity. I hope they catch him.”

“Do you really want that?” Auriga asked quietly, having shut the door. “He has been given a death sentence. I don’t believe it myself, but what if he were innocent? He wasn’t given a trial.” She grimaced and murmured, “I don’t think anyone deserves the Dementor’s Kiss. I know I’d rather be put to death than have that happen.”

“He betrayed everyone he cared about and killed thirteen innocent people! He is just like the rest of his accursed family, despite what I believed and hoped!” Vector exclaimed, bordering on hysteria. “He can’t be—I refuse to believe that…” This was not the time to lose her cool.

“I know,” Auriga said placatingly. “I agree with you; I just disagree with the new sentence, that’s all.” She stood there in silence for a moment, watching her friend. “I just want to know if you’re all right. I’m here for you to talk to, Arty. The rest of the staff’s worried about you; you’ve been off kilter for the entire year. Even the overgrown bat has noticed, and normally he couldn’t care less! You don’t have to be strong all the time, Arty.”

At that point in time, Vector started to break down, and Auriga felt very awkward. She probably shouldn’t have pressed the matter. Vector had been a bundle of nerves lately, and Auriga knew her friend’s breakdown was due to repressed emotions. She had just happened to be the idiot who let loose the deluge. Auriga walked over and sat down next to Vector, who then started sobbing into her shoulder. The only words Auriga could make out were “Why? He had everything! How could he?” She had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.

The next morning, Luna Lovegood was contemplating the meaning of table. Yes, a table was an elevated surface with supports, but what was really the absolute table-essence? For instance, what was the difference between the Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables in terms of their tableness? Was there some sort of inherent meaning? Could not an occupant of the Slytherin table get along completely well with an occupant of the Gryffindor table? Was it that they sat at the respective tables that caused the imagined schism? Or was it more of the House-essence that determined it? Also, the teacher table did not have any qualities particularly different from the House tables, although it was on a platform, so it may have a different table-essence due to the superiority complex the table would be given.

There was a particular dark pall cast on all of the tables today. Luna did not approve. So what if Black broke in to the castle? He had not done anything. He had nothing left to lose, did the Ministry not understand? Whatever he was doing had nothing to do with the students, otherwise there would be dead students. Therefore, the Dementors had nothing to do at Hogwarts. They needed to go back to killing the souls of the justly imprisoned and misfortunate innocents in Azkaban. Let the innocent be and lying lions lie.

The Ravenclaw table-essence was just like the table-essence of the other three houses. They all had dividers yet all were the same. A depressing thought. Luna could not wait for Divination. Yet she could. She saw a Grim in her teacup and knew it did not mean death. Cedric had an arrow, and it did? Luna sighed. Too much was happening. She idly wondered why Professor Vector was sad and why Professor Lupin looked guilty. Professor Snape was angrier than usual, and Professor Sinistra looked pensive. Once a lion, always a lion; once a snake, always a snake; once a badger, always a badger; once a raven, always a raven. But a lion can be snake-like; a snake, lion-like; a badger, raven-like; a raven, badger-like. And all combinations. A lion could betray, and a snake could be loyal. A raven could fly into walls, and a badger could do Arithmancy. Dogs are loyal, and rats rat out. One shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. How many more were betrayed and murdered from a certain point of view? Diana’s lover would die from pride at the hands of a scorpion. Who would rage against the dying of the light? “Pass the butter, please,” Luna said.

Notes and Credits: This story is updated once a month to every two weeks. Once it has been completely written, it will be updated once a week. (Just to note, it's 13 June 2009, and 44 chapters are complete, so it's still a while before I'm done.) Also, this story was started prior to reading Deathly Hallows, so not everything abides by canon. I would also like to credit two stories that I was inspired by for characterization of Professor Sinistra and Mr. Lovegood: She's a Star's Lamentations of a Starry Eyed Twit and Willow-Bee the Cat's Wizards, Superheroes, and Jackalopes. I'd also like to thank my beta-readers RaeynnBeau and nycRENTgirl for all their advice. In conclusion, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this chapter and please review if you've the time.