A/N: In truth, this is what was left over from the previous chapter. It got extremely long and I realized that if I didn't cut it off, the story was going to end a little sooner than I was comfortable with. Thus, we have an extremely long chapter eleven! Congratulations!

Pursuing Sanity

By: Max Pilote

Chapter Eleven: The Young and the Old

December 16, 1981

James looked at Sirius and frowned. They both knew what was going to happen.

"I'm sorry I let you down," whispered James as he knelt next to Sirius. "I should have tried harder—"

"James, this is my fault. All of this is my fault," replied the criminal. "Don't blame yourself, because you tried your best. Just promise me two things."


"Take care of Moony," said Sirius sadly, "because he needs our help. He won't ask for it, but he really needs it. And..." His voice trailed off and he looked at Lily as she walked over to the two men, the infant Harry in her arms.

"And don't let Harry think I'm a murderer. Tell Harry the truth about his godfather," he finished.

Harry smiled and reached out for Sirius, who couldn't hold him because of the chains on his wrists. Thus, the father held his son close enough to the wizard so that he might be able to say his farewell.

"I'm sorry," whispered Sirius while the baby grabbed onto his fingers, "that I won't be there when you grow up. One day, you might be able to forgive me."

Silence fell over the room and everyone returned to their seats as the verdict finally came in. It didn't actually take that long, but minutes feel like forever when your life depends on a simple yes or no. Everyone was expecting a guilty verdict because there was absolutely no evidence denying him of the murder.

James had considered telling them that Peter was an animagus, but what would that accomplish? By all standards, he was practically a Squib. They would want to know how Peter could possibly learn such a difficult skill, and it would be a hard blame to pin on Voldemort.

"Sirius Black, you have been found guilty of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and thirteen muggles. By order of the Ministry of Magic, you are hereby sentenced to serve the rest of your days in Azkaban."

James jolted from his sleep, startling the black dog that had been pawing at him for the past few minutes. He cleaned his glasses off before putting them back on.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he said apologetically.

The dog jumped off his friend and returned to his human form. "I had to put Moony to bed," he replied. "So, are we ready?"

Prongs stood and looked around. "We'll have to be very careful, though," he explained. "I didn't get a chance to get the cloak from Harry today."

"Well, you're just useless, aren't you?" teased Sirius. He received a smile from his old friend.

Just as they had been sixteen years ago, the halls of Hogwarts were silent that night. The subjects in the random portraits along the wall were sleeping rather than being their usual energetic selves. Of course, the moving portraits gave life to what would be an otherwise dreary castle. Unfortunately, James and Sirius had to be extremely careful not to wake the portraits.

The shaggy black dog walked beside the wizard as they made their way to the Gryffindor tower. Despite their long absence from the school, navigating the school was not a problem to the two former pranksters.

The Fat Lady was sleeping, but years of dealing with her had caused James to grow indifferent to the woman's feelings.

"Hey!" he said loudly with a wicked grin.

She jumped awake and glared at him. "Oh! You shouldn't be--" She stopped in the middle of her sentence and her glare became fiercer. "James Potter! Sixteen years of peace and then you show up again—"

"Fortuna Major," announced the wizard impatiently. He wasn't in the mood to stand there and wait for her speech to end about how he and the other Marauders had tortured her with their late night outings and other such things that, in her words, deprived her of her beauty sleep for seven long years.

"I don't think you're allowed in here," said the Fat Lady.

"Hey, I have the right password," he said with a frown.

"But you've graduated!"

"Damnit, woman, I said Fortuna Major! Can't you just let me in?"

She swung open and the dog crawled through the hole before James, who let out a growl once they were in the common room. There was no time to complain about the portrait now. He flashed a smile at the remaining students dwindling in the common room as they finished some last minute assignment or a conversation with a friend who wasn't quite ready for bed.

In an instant, an overwhelming feeling wrapped its cold grip around James. He froze as Sirius darted up the stairs.

It was a simple thought that made it feel like the world wasn't there anymore. He could possibly be in the same room as the traitor that he had trusted so dearly as his friend. His son might be no more than a few feet away from the rat who had sold his family out to the Dark Lord.

He willed himself to stop thinking that way. Such simple yet amazingly lurid thoughts were simply a shovel he was using to dig a hole under his own sanity. He shook his head, trying to scare away the thoughts as if they were a fly, before the hole became so deep he was unable to climb his self-hating ass out of it.

"Hello, Mr. Potter!"

The wizard blinked and looked at the two twins heading up the stairs.

"Wouldn't happen to have a few spare fireworks with you?" asked George.

Because Harry and Ron were quite close, the two families involved had countless dinners together and birthdays. This served well enough for Fred and George to learn that Harry's father still had a bit of a wild streak in him. They could usually count on him having something to help in some sort of prank.

"I might. What are you two up to this time?" asked James in an amused tone. He was thankful for the distraction as he crossed the room and stood with the twins.

"Just a harmless trick, nothing too grand," replied Fred.

"We don't want to waste all of our good material at the start of the year," continued George.

"We're just ruffling a few feathers," finished the other twin.

The older wizard smiled and handed them a handful from the pocket of his cloak. "Indulge me boys. Care to show me some of your latest projects?" he asked curiously.

"Of course, you're opinion is always welcome, Mr. Potter," said the twins simultaneously.

The two pranksters led him to their dorm. James found that he pitied the poor boys that had to share this room with them, but it was more than likely that they had grown accustomed to the smell of their roommates' so-called projects.

Between the beds of the two boys was a grand mess of various objects. A rather rank smelling potion was brewing in a smell cauldron on an end table while various parchments were sprawled about.

Fred mulled over them a bit before picking up one he seemed rather proud of. He passed the paper to George for approval. With both twins in mutual agreement, the paper was given to James.

"Extendable Ears, eh?" he remarked with a smile. "That's quite the clever idea. I wish there had been some like you around when I was in school."

"Our current project right now--," started Fred.

"--is creating a stink worse than dungbombs," finished George, since either twin was so apt to finish the other's sentence or thought.

"Hm, that would be quite an achievement, wouldn't it?" remarked James. His hazel eyes scanned the mess of parchment scattered about before resting on a particularly familiar one hanging slightly off the unoccupied nightstand. He made his way around the bed, pretending to be interested in their plans.

Of course, the former prankster was genuinely interested in their plans. It was like a refreshing breath of vitality in his otherwise macabre life at the moment. Being part of this allowed James a window to look back into his own past at a time where he was genuinely happy and not just faking it for the sake of everyone around him.

"Now this prank is a brilliant idea," replied James, picking up one of the parchments. "Worthy of praise, that one is. Wouldn't it be a bit hard to set this one up, though? I mean, how would you go about that?"

Sirius or Remus would have known that their old friend was lying through his teeth. There were endless possibilities just running rampant in the wizard's mind as to how that particular plan could be executed. Letting the twins explain it was a needed distraction.

He slipped his hand behind his back and slipped the parchment into his sleeve and replaced it with a note. Seconds later, Sirius sat at the door as the shaggy black dog and barked relentlessly while scratching at the door.

"Sorry, boys," remarked James apologetically, "I'll have to cut you off before that dog wakes up half the school's population. We'll have to continue this some other time."

It was hours, however, before either realized that the map was missing. Fred picked up the note that was in its place and chuckled.

Mr. Prongs would like to thank you on behalf of the Marauders for taking such good care of our map. He would also like to add that you will be getting it back once it has served its purpose to him and his fellow Marauders. Mr. Prongs, however, harbors no doubt that you have already memorized the map being the model pranksters that you are.

He simply suggests that you be very careful when wandering the halls at night until the map is returned to you.

George blinked as he read the note after his brother.

"You don't suppose that—"

"—Mr. Potter is actually Mr. Prongs?"

The two twins looked into the faces that were mirror images of each other and smiled—two completely identical wicked grins of realization and understanding all at once.

Sleep had become a foreign concept for James after obtaining the map. Sirius ran around in his animagus form doing whatever it was he had thought up in that twisted mind of his, but he and Remus were always there to help him. Ghosts were known to frequent the hallways more often than James, who had given up his random appearances in the castle to sulk over the map.

All things in his own life set aside, the wizard had to admit that he sensed a change in the lycanthrope. He seemed to be asserting himself more into the plans between James and Sirius, not that there were any current plans worthy of approval or action. It was like he was trying to make sure they weren't forgetting him or something. A mental note was stored in his mind to talk with Lupin next time he got in the mood to come stare at a boring piece of paper for a few hours.

He was brought out his reverie once again as he saw the dot labeled Peter Pettigrew still in the same place which was right beside the dot labeled Ronald Weasley which remained by the two dots labeled Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Since he was unable to spend every moment of the day watching the map, the suspicion that Pettigrew only moved when he wasn't looking, though irrational, was brooding within him.

His entire reasons for studying the map was to see if Peter had some sort of routine. That rat couldn't stay with his owner all day.

Several desperate letters sent to Lily in an effort to apologize for his completely stupid decision that he wasn't quite ready to give up on had gone unsurprisingly unanswered. While James would be more than willing to have his owl peck his friend until he got at least a written reply, he didn't have the heart to do that to his already fuming wife.

There was this overwhelming feeling inside of him that if anything else could possibly make this worse, it was going to happen within the next few days.

A sudden knock on the door drew the brooding wizard out of his miserable self loathing. Provided that he would have bothered to actually pay attention to the map, the dot labeled Harry Potter had moved.

"It's unlocked," said James, regaining his composure. He had been expecting Remus, but his heart skipped once Harry entered the room.

"Got a few minutes to spare?" asked the young wizard tentatively. It was as though he were expecting his own father to turn him away.

"I've got the world for you, Green Eyes."

The boy walked in as his father folded the map and put it away. If Harry wanted to talk to his father so badly that he was willing to seek him out in his quarters rather than catch him in the hallways he was so rarely seen in these days, the least he could do was offer him his full attention. Of course, there was nothing beneficial from that.

The young man crossed the room and sat in a chair next to his father. This didn't fell like all the other conversations he had held with his father. Normally, he wasn't this apprehensive. Why was he suddenly feeling like this? It had seemed like such a great idea on his way but he was having his doubts now.

"Um, well," he stammered, "I've just noticed that you're acting a little strange. I'm worried about you, really, because you seem so sad and distant lately. I really only remember you like this once and it was after Volde—"

"Please, don't," whispered James, defeated. His reasons for not wanting to hear the Dark Lord's name were completely different than that of other wizards and witches. Fear was not the demon that caused him to hide from something as simple as a name. Memories conjured by the name were far more terrifying than his fear of the person.

"I'm sorry, Green Eyes," he continued. "I don't mean to worry you. My mind has been a bit preoccupied as of late with things that really aren't healthy for me to be thinking about in my present state of mind."

"Is it about Pettigrew?"

James looked from the table to his son and frowned.

"I think you owe me the true story, Dad. All I've ever heard is that Sirius didn't kill him and that Peter did something horrible. How am I supposed to help you? How can I make you feel better if I don't know what's going on?"

Harry frowned, oddly embarrassed that he had just poured his heart out to his dad in a bit of angry and frustrated tone.

He glanced at the man sitting next to him, who ran his hands through his hair in a nervous habit.

It wasn't fair at all to Harry to keep the truth from him for so long. There was only so many times that he could blame his depressing behavior on nightmares and bad days.

"When your mother and I graduated," started James, "with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, we were quick to join the fight against Voldemort." Harry frowned as his father forced the name out with an involuntary shudder.

"But we tried not to get swallowed up in the war. Your mother and I still had a grand wedding, and all the Marauders were present. It was one of the few times I can claim was perfect during such a growing presence of evil," he continued. "But we were still young, and everyone advised against us starting a family so soon. After all, our lives were hectic. I was just coming out of Auror training and the Order was getting more serious in our fight against the Death Eaters and their Dark Lord."

This wasn't the first time he had told that story, so it was coming out in a tone bordering on monotonous.

"Lily and I just smiled and nodded, ignoring everything they told us. I even turned a deaf ear to everyone's reservations about Sirius being your godfather. They said that we were too immature.

"I can't remember a time when I was happier than the very first time I held you in my arms," admitted the father with a proud smile. He held Harry's hand as he spoke, both for comfort and memory. "And Sirius had a gift for making you smile. It can't really be described with words.

"You were the light in our darkness, but the darkness was quickly trying to extinguish this light. A prophecy had been told before you were born. All anyone told us was that, according to this prophecy, you were going to bring about the end of the Dark Lord.

"This brought up suspicions, though. With the Death Eaters trying to get us, it was suggested into the four of us, the Marauders, that there could be a traitor amongst us. It was Pettigrew who planted the idea in our group that Remus might be because of the lycanthropy. So many dark creatures were running with darkness that it wasn't a far-fetched idea."

He seemed almost ashamed of admitting it. It was a mutual feeling that they had wronged Remus in their decision to cast him from the group.

"It wasn't until it became necessary to go into hiding that we cut communication off with him. Dumbledore set everything up, and we just had to pick a secretkeeper."

"Sirius was your first choice, right?"

The wizard smiled at his son and nodded. "I trusted him with not only my life, but the lives of you and your mother. Sirius, however, didn't think it was such a great idea because he was such an obvious. He knew that he would die under the torture of Voldemort before he gave up our lives. He didn't want to take chances with our lives, though.

"It took an unbelievable amount of convincing, but Peter was eventually made our secretkeeper."

James stopped, but he didn't have to continue. Harry hugged his father, and he realized that it could have gone worse. He could have lost something far more precious than a part of his sanity.

"I don't think you're crazy," whispered the boy, holding onto his father. "It doesn't bother me when people tease me about it. I don't care because you're the best father ever. You've always been there for me and I know that you always will be. That's all that really matters to me—that I still have you."

He was speechless as he stared down at his son. Why was it that sometimes the most complicated things could be explained using the simplest of logic? Harry had made a point, whether he meant to or not. It was so simple. James was letting his grudge against Peter consume him slowly, and he needed to focus on what was more important.

The father hugged his son and kissed his forehead. "I love you, Green Eyes," he whispered softly. "You know that?"

"I've always known that," replied Harry. "And you'll know that I love you, too, right?"

James nodded and smiled.

The door swung open and closed abruptly. Once the door was closed, Sirius transformed from the dog to a very disgruntled human. Nothing in particular was responsible for pissing off the animagus—his life was just one really bad day.

He opened his mouth to begin ranting, but froze when he laid eyes on his thirteen-year old godson.

"Oh Merlin...Harry?" he asked. In his present state of mind the questions did sound like such a stupid one. What if this was just a trick? Was this really Harry Potter?

"Yeah, unless my Mum and Dad have been lying to me for the past thirteen years," remarked Harry casually. Using humor as a defense mechanism was definitely something he got from his father.

Now that he was able to stand there and examine Harry so thoroughly, he realized just how many things he had gotten from his father. His taste in frames for his glasses was definitely an inherited trait from Prongs.

"You look so much like your father," was all he could manage to say despite knowing that countless numbers of people would have already told the boy that. It wasn't the best way to start off the first true conversation he would be having with his godson.

But there just weren't words in any language that could possibly express every thing his head that he wanted to say.

James stepped off a bit and let Sirius have his time with Harry. He retreated to the back of the room to study the Marauders' Map once more while his friend attempted to speak to his son.

Everything moved so fast in his mind that he couldn't decide where to start. Of course, he would have to say something because Harry was beginning to look at him as though he were stupid.

"Harry, I'm sorry," he said with a crooked smile. "Despite the grand job your father and Moony have done in completely ruining Lily's sweet little boy, I should have been there to contribute to your corruption. That...and I should have been there to be the godfather I was chosen to be." The knot in his stomach was coming loose.

"I'm not going to go around hating you for it," admitted the fledgling wizard. "I couldn't possibly hold a grudge against you. I suppose I'm too much like my father—"

"Oh, I'm more than capable of holding a grudge against Sirius," James chimed in. "They just don't last impressively long."

Sirius laughed at his friend's remark. The knot in his stomach came undone. He smiled at his godson, who found himself to be speechless at the moment. Harry had really come to see if his dad was doing well like he was so inclined to say in casual conversations. Thoughts of actually seeing his godfather for the first time that he could remember had never crossed his mind.

"I imagined this to feel a little different," commented Harry finally. "It feels so casual. Not really dramatic. Aren't things like this supposed to be some big ordeal?"

The fugitive shrugged and smiled, "Not if you're a Marauder. None of us have ever been real big on dramatics and such. Sure, we've got our moments, but those are a rare oddity. You're lucky I didn't just tear into you on first sight as is true Marauder fashion. Too bad you're so much like your father—it offers for a great amount of material."

"Give him a few weeks to get used to your ever annoying and obnoxious presence before you start picking on the poor boy," said James, his voice distant. The map had once again consumed his attention as he watched a dot labeled the odd name of Crookshanks chasing the one labeled as Peter Pettigrew.

Harry looked at his watch and realized that he would need to get back to the Gryffindor tower eventually. Thus, he smiled and hugged Sirius tightly before turning to his father.

"Are you going to be at the Quidditch game tomorrow?"

James had to remove himself from the hell he had created. This meant setting his mind on more important things for a time being.

"I wouldn't miss it, Green Eyes."

True to his word, James had pulled himself away from the map long enough for a refreshing bit of sleep he had been lacking before going to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

An unnatural bit of worry fluttered through his heart once he saw the weather conditions. Torrential rain was not an uncommon condition to play in for a Quidditch star. It was not something, however, that he would wish upon his son.

And, as a parent, he was very disapproving of him playing in such deplorable conditions.

Finally, the wizard took his seat beside Remus J. Lupin, who did not look pleased about having to watch the game in such a horrid rainstorm.

"If I didn't love your son so much," remarked the professor, "I would be sitting inside by the warm fire reading a nice book. You do realize how appealing the mere thought of that scenario is, right?"

"I'll agree with you, but the book in my mind is better replaced by the map," admitted his companion his companion. "I'm working on that, though.

"This does bring you back a few years, doesn't it?" he added abruptly to change the subject.

"I believe you broke and arm, broke a leg, dislocated your shoulder, received a very nasty concussion, and made Lily cry," said Lupin shortly. He smiled at the glare cast his way.

"Mr. Prongs would like to comment on how he appreciates Mr. Moony's vivid memory," stated James sarcastically, "and his fantastic ability to make Mr. Prongs feel like a giant prat."

"I love you," said the werewolf with an innocent smile.

James simply sighed in a defeated way and smiled. "I love you, too, Moony."

Lightning whipped across the sky accompanied by the roar of the ferocious thunder, nature's greeting to the players as they stepped onto the field. Rain beat upon them as they mounted their brooms, waiting for the signal.

The whistle sounded, barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain, roaring thunder, and howling winds. Like branches of a tree tossed to the mercy of the storm, the players of the two teams struggled to keep control of their brooms as the game began.

A great roar erupted from the crowd as the quaffle came into play. With the release of the quaffle, the game was well on its way to being a very interesting one. It was immediately seized by the Gryffindor team, who wasted no time in going for their opponents' goal rings. As the chasers and beaters flew about the field and the keepers watched them in eager suspense, the seekers circled the field like eagles searching for its prey.

While Remus found a bit of pleasure in watching the rest of the game, James's eyes were fixed on his son. While the hazel eyes hid emotion well, he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was worried about Harry.

"If he falls from that height, would it kill him?"

The werewolf blinked and looked up at Harry, who was undoubtedly flying higher than the rest of the students.

"Let's pray he doesn't fall."

Harry whispered an angry curse as the lightning lashed out across the sky. A deafening roar of thunder followed the lightning's path. He squinted against the rain, searching desperately for the elusive golden snitch. The sooner he ended the game, the better for all of them.

The young Quidditch prodigy chanced a look at the crowd below. Even though they all looked like simple little blurred dots in the rain, he could still pick out his father out of the crowd.

Despite Hermione's helpful little charm causing the rain to bounce off his goggles, he found that the rain was still blinding. Seeing the snitch would be an impossible task. Still, he had Quidditch in his blood basically.

Seeing as though this was the first time that he had actually played in conditions this bad, he wasn't quite sure what to expect. He willed all his being into focusing on finding the snitch. Ending this game as early as possible would benefit everyone involved in the game and those watching it.

Lightning once again lashed out at the players. The brief flash of light illuminated the golden snitch for a few brief moments, but it was gone after that.

"Go Harry!" shouted his proud father, smiling as he watched the boy.

Remus laughed at him. "You can see him as bad as your vision is?" he asked. "You're practically blind without your glasses."

"Well, I can't see him particularly well," replied James. "Besides, I don't need to see him. I just know that he's there."

The wind unleashed another strong series of gusts. Lightning whipped across the sky as if it were trying to strike down the players flying throughout the field. Harry watched Fred and George briefly and then became distracted momentarily by the roaring crowd. Gryffindor had scored.

A streak of gold passed by the corner of his eye. The young wizard turned his broom against the wind and went after it. It led him through a strange pattern of loops and turns. It was not long before Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker, noticed this and went after the golden snitch as well. As if it had noticed this, the winged speed demon pulled the two racers into the heart of the game. Even their fellow players became obstacles as the two boys tried to beat each other to the golden prize. The two weaved in and out of players, recklessly dodging the bludgers. Harry urged his broom to go faster. He just needed to get a little closer…

The crowd was nearly on edge as they watched Harry and Cedric speeding through the field. The Gryffindor seeker swiped at the golden snitch, but the little bugger saw this as a challenge and went into a straight climb into the stormy skies. Nothing could bend the will of either boy as they raced upwards, both of them having no objections to following that snitch to hell and back. Harry set his eyes and heart on the snitch, pushing the Firebolt to go faster and faster. Unfortunately, they were going against the storm. It was growing harder and harder as the storm raged on.

Darting through the clouds after the snitch, he found himself close enough to reach out to it several times only to have it pull ahead of him teasingly. It had enough courtesy to play this game with the other seeker as well.

A chill began to grow in Harry's body that was much different from the cold induced by the freezing winds blowing mercilessly against him. This chill grew to a cold grip that seemed to seize his very soul, dragging a fear and panic out from deep within the dark shadows of his mind. He became deaf to the roar of the thunder and whistle of the wind. Abruptly, he turned his broom and was met by several ominous black masses.

All thoughts of catching the ever elusive snitch were replaced with a numbing darkness and silence as the young wizard struggled to keep his focus and consciousness. Sounds of the raging storm suddenly stopped as the darkness was punctured by voices all too familiar to him.

"Where have you hidden the child? Where is he? You cannot protect him forever."

"You're wrong! I will always protect him. No one, not even you, can harm my son as long as I am alive."


Harry cried out for his father as the man's anguished cries echoed through his mind.

James gave an involuntary shudder, feeling that something was wrong. He closed his eyes and began to massage his temples. Maybe his worry was just getting the better of him.

His attention couldn't help but be drawn away as shouts of fear and surprise rang out throughout the pitch. Following where everyone was pointing and indicating, he looked up to see his son plummeting towards the ground. Why wasn't he on his broom? What happened?

The crowd watched helplessly as the Gryffindor seeker began to plummet to the ground, falling from his broom while the game raged on around him. It seemed to be taking forever for him to fall as the dementors swarmed on the Quidditch pitch like vultures. Remus stood on reflex and drew his wand. He held a vast knowledge of magic, but he could think of nothing to save the son of his dear friend. No doubt, he thought, James was staring in horror while his son fell to the hard ground.

Prongs had long since been informed as to his son's reaction to the dementors, and was having his doubts as to if they would do the same to him. But he wasn't one known for sitting still when his loved ones needed him. He was, however, known for doing extremely dangerous things to save said loved ones.

Without any further thought on the subject, James drew his wand and pointed it up.

"Accio Firebolt!" he yelled. He jumped from the stands and mounted the broom before streaking across the sky to save Harry. Every student and professor in Hogwarts jumped to their feet as they saw the man who defeated Voldemort jump from the bleachers and grab his son's broom in midair. With talent and skill that was possessed only by a skilled professional, James went after his son.

James Potter flew straight into the air and then came down at his son in a dive. As the dementors closed in, he reached out and grabbed Harry. The father clutched his child against him, but he was beginning to feel the effect of the dark creatures. The world around him was slowly fading away as his body became cold and weak. With all his might, he willed himself to hold onto his son.

"You cannot protect him forever."

He shook his head and gripped his son tighter against him as the last of his vision was slowly deteriorating into a frightening obscurity.

"You're wrong!" he shouted defiantly, despite the fact that he was yelling at a nightmarish memory. "I will always protect him!"

He pointed his wand at the dementors before the last of his strength seeped out of his body.


A silver mist burst from the end of his wand, shielding him from the dementors. Their effects, however, had already sunk in.

The last thing the conscious Prongs remembered was striking the hard ground of the Quidditch pitch with Harry against his chest—and feeling quite proud that he had been able to prove Voldemort wrong.

Author's Notes: All of you should know by now that this is going to be a regular occurrence. I want to thank those who agreed with me about the jackass review. Apparently, he wasted so much of what little courage he had in writing such an execrable statement that he didn't have the guts to put his name on it.

Oh well, I'm done fuming over you.

But because this chapter was planned out in advance, as most of them are, the memory about the trial in the beginning of the chapter had nothing to do with that horrid review.

Moony and Prongs little exchange at the beginning of the Quidditch match is reminiscent on something my Remy and I do on countless occasions. I like to draw from real life, eh?

I think Harry and Sirius meeting for the first time in a long time could have gone better. To put it plainly, I'm not exactly pleased with this chapter. It's a little unlike me. I don't know. I suppose it really matters what you think, right?

I know this may sadden very few of you, but there are only two chapters left. For those of you reading my other work, I plan on rewriting To Always Remember, and will most likely write a James/Lily fic. I seem to be in the mood.