The Grind (And Helping Heather Potter) [Book 2]

"Another day, another Galleon," Amelia Bones muttered to herself. "It really never stops. If only there was a word for this feeling of constantly working toward something."

Her flat, functional Dragonhide boots clicked against the tile with each step as she walked through the DMLE bullpens. Her Aurors were hard at work or hardly working. But it was early enough that Amelia wasn't about to get on any of their cases about work ethic.

These past months had been even more busy than usual. Which was saying something for the department responsible for keeping the peace in Wizarding Britain. In addition to the string of hag-perpetrated muggings and dark artifacts, the DMLE had been slapped with managing the aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup and the subsequent Riot.

That night had been chaotic and busy enough. Amelia and her best hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, putting out fires — mostly literally — and directing the panicking mobs. When the Dark Mark had been cast, she'd finally had enough and taken a squad of Aurors to deal with the perpetrators directly.

What she'd found still made her head throb months later. Blasted Death Eaters had gotten bold again. It was as if they were transported back into the war.

They'd caught a couple of the bastards red-handed. Quite literally still in that damned uniform and torturing Muggles or Muggle-born.

Of course, Amelia hadn't managed to keep them for longer than that single night. She hadn't even been able to have their masks removed before they were pardoned to the last. Apparently, Fudge had gotten complaints about 'upstanding citizens caught up in some big misunderstanding!'

The bastards didn't even have to plead Imperius this time. They just had to have enough gold in their pockets to buy their way out of her holding cells. And Amelia could only fume impotently. Fudge had already slashed her budget yet again, sending a very plain message. If Amelia wanted the resources to continue to do her job at all, she'd drop the investigation into 'upstanding Pure-Bloods' who could 'never be Death Eaters'.

That was the absolute worst part of the job. The obvious corruption of her superior and the society she was sworn to protect. Still, that night hadn't been entirely without good news. For one, Fudge was now feeling the heat since it had been his wand that cast the Dark Mark. He reported it stolen but that didn't change how suspicious he looked or the amount of dissent he was presently facing from the Wizenmagot and the public.

For a second bit of good news, Amelia and her Aurors had come across a scene that could only be described as vigilante justice. Three Death Eaters blown to Kingdom Come. There had barely been enough left of them to identify. And another Death Eater slaughtered like livestock and left for dead. That one, at least, had been easy enough to identify as Lucius Malfoy.

Which, of course, had Fudge calling murder when he found out. Suddenly, he wanted Amelia to continue the investigation into the events surrounding the World Cup Riot and to spare no expense. Though, her investigation was now supposed to be focused on the 'murderer' responsible for the deaths of several 'misguided' Pure-Bloods who'd been caught up in a 'cruel prank'. What a surprise.

That was months ago and since then, the DMLE had been grasping at straws (mostly on purpose). But Fudge was getting demanding and desperate as his position stayed tenuous and the Wizengamot continued to turn against him. Without his 'most generous donator', he must have been having a hard time buying public opinion.

Amelia barely got to sit down in her office before a ghostly crow Patronus floated through her wall and opened its beak, "Director Bones. The Minister requests your presence in his office immediately."

The fact that it wasn't Fudge's voice that came from the Patronus made Amelia stifle a snort. Of course, he left the somewhat difficult messaging spell to someone else. Fudge wouldn't be able to cast a Patronus if he was in a bath of Galleons with two Veela tending to his every need.

With a brief, heart-warming, spirit-raising thought of her niece, Amelia summoned her own Patronus to reply, "Tell him I shall be there shortly."

On her way out of her office, she called out again, "Tonks. With me."

Tonks (no first name) was one of Amelia's newer Aurors but still one of the most promising she'd had in years. She was perfectly suited for infiltration work, quick in a fight, trained by Alastor Moody himself, and untouched by the corruption that Amelia knew tainted even her department. She was most definitely someone Amelia was keeping an eye on for the fast track.

"You got it, boss," Tonks said, falling into step alongside Amelia.

"Change your face, Tonks," Amelia ordered. "We're meeting with Fudge and I intend to keep you to myself. No sense showing him what you typically look like."

Amelia didn't even have to look to confirm Tonks was following her orders. The Metamorphmagus was good like that. Her hair shifted from its usual pinkish-purple to black, extending to her shoulders. Her face shifted as well, settling into a more 'noble' visage to play to their upcoming audience.

They caught an elevator up a level in silence. Amelia just wanted to get this over with. It would inevitably be a farce of justice and she had a bad feeling about this meeting in particular. Fudge was getting a little too desperate for her tastes. He was bound to try something drastic soon.

The doors dinged open on the Minister's floor and the pair walked through them with an unhurried but ground-eating pace. The rich decor tickled Amelia's sensibilities and not in a good way. Yet more evidence of how corrupt their government was.

Fudge was standing by a shelf in his office as if examining something. His simpering toady of an Under-Secretary sat in the corner of the room, smirking at Amelia and Tonks as they entered.

"I'm sure we're both very busy people so let's keep this brief. What's this about, Cornelius?" Amelia cut straight to the point.

"Ah, yes, yes, of course, Amelia," Fudge allowed, turning to address his visitors. "As you might have guessed, this is about the investigation into the Riot at the Quidditch World Cup this summer. I believe I've made a breakthrough in the case!"

Amelia raised an imperious eyebrow, "I wasn't aware you were on my payroll, Cornelius."

Fudge's gaze grew distant for a moment, "Yes… A raise does seem to be in order."

He focused back on Amelia, "Splendid idea, Amelia. Anyhow, I have found our new prime suspect!"

"I see…" Amelia said flatly. "And you're sure?"

"Yes, yes, I remember it like it was yesterday," Fudge waved off her obvious disbelief. "There was an unknown rapscallion in the Top Box with the rest of us upstanding Pure-Bloods! And the Weasley family as well, I suppose. But it must be him!"

"Must it?" Fudge just nodded almost earnestly to Amelia's disbelief. "Very well. Who was this 'unknown rapscallion'?"

"A Mud-… Muggle-born fellow," Fudge pressed on as if he hadn't just used a slur. "Who introduced himself as Atlas White. He talked with Lucius and Narcissa for a short while. Probably to set up poor, noble Lucius… He was the only one in the Top Box who was unknown to me. Why, Amelia, do you think the Girl-Who-Lived could have stolen my wand? Preposterous!"

"Atlas White?" Amelia said slowly. "As in the same Atlas White who was recently hired on as a Professor by Hogwarts? The same Atlas White who's taken it unto himself to train Heather Potter for a tournament she's in no way qualified to be in? That's a bold accusation, Cornelius."

"A Professor! My goodness!" Fudge sputtered. "He must have infiltrated the school as a cover for his dastardly plans and pranks! He's planning on taking down our good Wizarding society from the inside!"

Amelia sighed, "I very much doubt that, Cornelius."

"Hem, hem…" The simpering toady in the corner of the room spoke up for the first time. "We did not ask for your opinion, Madam Bones. We asked for your effort and cooperation. This… Atlas White… will be arrested for stealing the Minister's wand and murdering four Pure-Blood lords. Simply because he is guilty of it. Of that, we are quite sure."

Fudge nodded, "Indeed, Dolores. I couldn't have said it better myself."

The toady (Amelia refused to use her name or 'proper' title) preened and Amelia barely resisted rubbing her temples, "I'll get right on that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I feel something coming on."

"A migraine," Amelia muttered as she turned her back to leave and Tonks followed.

Before the door to the Minister's office closed behind them, Amelia heard the beginnings of a worrying conversation from the toady, "Wonderful job, Cornelius. You wield your power so elegantly. Masterful railroading. But will it be enough? I had a suggestion. What if we-…"

Amelia and Tonks made their way back to the DMLE offices in silence again, mindful that the walls had ears. Amelia was fit to burst with indignation and frustration as she schemed to follow Fudge's orders in the most maliciously compliant way possible.

Everything she'd heard from her niece about Hogwarts' newest Professor was good and promising in the extreme. This Atlas White was — according to Susan — a solid addition to the Castle's staff, had a way with students (especially the Witches if Amelia read between the lines correctly), and was just generally competent. And if he really was responsible for the deaths of Lucius and co, Amelia would be practically debt-bound to make sure Fudge's plans for the young man didn't succeed.

Once inside her office, Amelia slumped into her seat. It was still much too early to drink. After a moment, she pulled herself together and pushed the building migraine away with pure strength of will.

"Tonks," She said. "I have a task for you. I'm going to put-… who's a good choice? Corrupt but competent enough to at least do their due diligence… Dawlish.

"I'm putting Dawlish on this White case. You're going to be doing everything you can to keep that young man from actually being arrested. Let him be questioned but don't let it go further. Tell Dawlish you're putting him under guard or something. That way Dawlish can report that he did his job and White will stay out of Fudge's reach."

Tonks acknowledged her orders, "You got it, boss. But, uh, you know Fudge will still push for a trial, right?"

Amelia sighed, "I know. But it's the best we can do at the moment. At least this way, White will be forced to actually appear before the Wizengamot for a trial if Fudge wants to do anything. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if White disappeared before he could make it to our holding cells…"

IIIII

"Go on, girls," I reassured. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Fred? George? Get them to the Castle for me, yeah? Heather could really use some rest."

It'd taken a bit of prodding but I finally got the girls to leave me alone with the Auror who wanted to question me. A not-so-small part of me was more nervous than I let on to them. But I pushed that part to the back of my mind. I wasn't merely a lone 'Muggle-born'. I had the backing of Hogwarts. They couldn't just try to railroad a (hopefully) respected Professor into Azkaban or through the Veil, right?

"Should I be seeking legal counsel?" I asked the Auror.

He shook his head, "I don't think that will be necessary. I just want to ask you a few questions. You're not under arrest at this time."

Very discreetly, I summoned a Messanger Patronus behind my back. It naturally recorded John Dawlish's words before I sent it off unseen. A ghostly cat slunk away to find Dumbledore. Just to keep him informed in case the worst happened.

"Very well," I said agreeably. "I'll cooperate but I reserve the right to decline to answer."

Suddenly, the Auror's body language became more closed off and almost ready, "I don't think that would be wise, Mr. White."

"Professor," I corrected.

"What?"

I probably should have avoided tweaking the magical bobby but I couldn't resist, "Professor White. If I'm treating you with the due respect, I expect some in return."

John Dawlish stared at me for a moment before visibly swallowing what he was about to say, "… Alright, Professor White. I'm going to have to ask you to state your full name, age, profession, and blood status for the record."

I stifled a snort of disgust, "If you think that's necessary… Atlas White. 20 years of age. Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Muggle-born to the best of my current knowledge."

Dawlish nodded and I noticed a Dictaquill floating beside him and writing down what I'd said, "Very good. Now, what was your reason for attending the Quidditch World Cup this summer? And more importantly, why were you seated in the Top Box along with the Minister and the late Lord Malfoy?"

Just based on the names he focused on, I had a feeling I knew where this interview was heading, "I was tasked with chaperoning Heather Potter and her friend Hermione Granger by Headmaster Dumbledore. As for being in the Top Box… well, I just went where they did."

"So there was no premeditation behind your seating?" Dawlish asked.

"None at all. I didn't even intend to go to the World Cup until the Headmaster asked me to."

"I see… Next question," Dawlish quickly moved on. "Did you notice anything odd, anything out of sorts, during the match itself?"

I shook my head, "My focus was on my charges, not the Quidditch being played."

"That's admirable and all, but I meant around the Top Box itself. Not the match," Dawlish clarified.

I hummed as I thought for a moment, "Hmm… Well, I do remember something. I thought I saw something like an invisible hand taking something from somebody but I couldn't confirm anything. It could very well have been my imagination or a trick of the light."

"Right, so the Top Box had a ghost?" Dawlish scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? The thing stolen wouldn't happen to have been the Minister's wand, would it?"

"Or someone under an invisibility cloak," I suggested. "I don't think I appreciate the accusation in your tone, Auror. I'm just trying to recall what happened. I have no concrete ideas for how the Minister 'misplaced' his wand."

Dawlish grunted but I could tell he still didn't fully believe me, "We'll be coming back to this in a bit. Tell me about the aftermath of the match."

I began, "Well, Heather convinced me to stay and partake in the festivities. We walked around the campgrounds for a bit. I eventually got dumped with the youngest Weasley children as well. We had a bit of fun and got into a bit of trouble, but I kept everyone in line."

"Trouble?" Dawlish immediately zeroed in on that bit of my statement.

I elaborated, "You've got to understand something. They're all teenagers. Hell, I'm not much older. And teenagers like to cause a bit of mischief. I didn't see any reason to stop them so I just kept things from getting out of hand. They played a few pranks at most and we retired to Heather's tent for the night."

Dawlish didn't look convinced of the innocence of our World Cup 'fun' but he kept the interview moving, "What happened after the Riot started?"

"I wanted to get out of there. Heather wanted to stay and help. She's got a bit of a 'saving people thing' going for her. In the end, she convinced me and we began helping everyone we could."

Dawlish nodded, "Makes sense. Wouldn't expect anything less from the Girl-Who-Lived."

I winced, knowing that Heather hated being compared to her title like that, "Yeah… We quickly figured out that Death Eaters were the ones responsible for the chaos-…"

"Pranksters," Dawlish interrupted me to 'correct'. "It has been determined that no actual Death Eaters were present at the Riot. It was all some elaborate, and admittedly crude, prank and the culprits were only impersonating Death Eaters."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "That's a load of crock. I saw multiple of the so-called 'fake' Death Eaters using Unforgivables. I saved a man from the Cruciatus Curse."

"Then you must be mistaken," Dawlish asserted, unwilling to even humor me.

I was dumbfounded by the stonewalled denial, "That's-… I don't think I will be answering any more questions if that's what you and your department believe to be the true explanation of events."

"I would continue to cooperate if I were you, Professor White," Dawlish warned warily, fingering his sleeve in a way that told me he was anticipating any movement I could make.

"I don't think I will," I said, making no moves that could have been mistaken for threatening. "I find myself questioning your ability to remain impartial and objective on the matter. If I tell you the rest of my story, there is a good chance you'll just try to arrest me."

"Now, why would I have to do that, Professor?" Dawlish had drawn his wand at this point and held it ready but not pointed at me.

"I think I'd like to exercise my right to a solicitor," I drawled almost lazily.

"That only applies if you've already been arrested, Professor. Should I help you with that?" The Auror's wand hand twitched in anticipation.

"If you want to explain to Dumbledore why you drew your wand on one of his Professors, be my guest," I invited, spreading my empty hands wide.

"Let the record show that the subject is being uncooperative and combative. Active Auror moving to subdue," Dawlish noted for the Dictaquill that still floated beside him.

I mentally sighed. Of course, things had to come to this. Dawlish's wand came up to point at me. As he began to cast a silent stunning spell, my magic moved as well. It poured into the tattoo on my chest. A short beam of red light shot at my center of mass. In an instant, a cloak of lightning overtook my body. The Stupefy crackled harmlessly against the suddenly appearing shield.

Before Dawlish or I could make another move, another stunning spell came flying into our little confrontation. It struck true and Dawlish slumped to the ground unconscious. I stopped suddenly in no small amount of surprise. Dawlish's Dictaquill kept floating there beside his slumped form, the quill paused as if waiting for something to break the silence. And as if restarting the world, something did.

A woman ran up, securing Dawlish by relieving him of his wand, and began speaking to the Dictaquill, "Auror Tonks acting on behalf of Director Bones. Auror Dawlish has been temporarily neutralized for disobeying an order from Madam Bones.

"Please note that Auror Dawlish attempted to unjustly arrest the subject with a silent stunning spell — going against law and protocol. He has been stunned in turn. Auror Dawlish's intentions were unclear at this time and should be subject to further investigation.

"On direct orders from Madam Bones, the subject — Atlas White — shall now be put under guard by Auror Tonks to ensure he makes it to his inevitable trial. Auror Dawlish shall be returned to a DMLE holding cell along with this record. Finite. Portus. Mark."

In order, the Dictaquill stopped writing and collapsed back into a seemingly simple bit of parchment and quill. It landed on Dawlish's chest. This mystery Auror Tonks then placed a Portkey spell on a rock and slapped it onto Dawlish's chest as well. Her final word activated the Portkey and Dawlish disappeared with a swirl of magic.

Auror Tonks let out a sigh and turned to give me my first real look at her, "Wotcher! Sorry 'bout all of that."

Auror Tonks was certainly a unique-looking woman. She looked like a Witch who'd discovered the Muggle punk movement and completely ran with it. Short, jagged, pinkish-purple hair framed her conventionally attractive face. Her body seemed almost streamlined beneath her 'robes'. Those robes were only half-length and looked more like a strange cross between a windbreaker and a pullover and were left open in the front to reveal a graphic tee. A pair of skintight ripped jeans hugged her surprisingly shapely legs.

"Uh… wotcher?" I greeted her back.

A cheerful grin overtook her face, "Nice to meet ya, Mr. Atlas White. I'm Auror Tonks. Just call me Tonks though. Again, sorry about all the trouble. Someone high up wants to be seen doing something about the Cup Riot and seems to think you're the perfect person to take the blame."

"How do they even know about me?" I asked.

Tonks adopted a sheepish expression, "I can't really reveal that without revealing who's after you. And I don't want to freak you out with the news that the Minister wants your head delivered to him on a platter."

"The Minister? What did I ever do to him?"

"He seems to think you killed his main money bag," Tonks explained.

"That's ridicul-… Oh…" I trailed off as I realized she could be referring to one of the Death Eaters I'd killed.

"Ah! Don't tell me anything! If you do, I might have to arrest you and that'd go against my mission orders. I'm sure there's a very reasonable explanation to everything and it will come out in a court of law. My job is just to make sure you actually have a chance to tell your story," Tonks held her hands up to stop me from saying anything more.

"Besides," She whispered conspiratorially. "Knowing the 'victim', my boss and I are of the opinion that whatever happened had to have been deserved. You didn't hear that from me though, right?"

"Right…" I agreed hesitantly. "So you're here to guard me until I go to trial?"

Tonks nodded, "Got it in one, Guv."

I pinched the bridge of my nose between two fingers, "Great. As if I didn't already have enough on my plate."

"Aww, you won't even notice I'm here. I can blend in really well," Tonks reassured with a grin.

"It's not you. Just the idea of a trial in general. Any clue when that will be happening?" I asked.

Tonks shrugged, "Pretty soon, I reckon. Can't see the big guy dragging his feet on something like this."

"Might as well go tell Dumbledore about this then. You need permission to stay in the Castle anyway," I sighed.

We started the walk back to the Castle. At the same time, I sent another Messenger Patronus to Dumbledore to update him and tell him I was bringing a guest. That Patronus turned out to be unnecessary because he was waiting for us at the Castle's front doors, his eyes twinkling and his wand discreetly drawn.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "It seems I won't need to interfere. Thank you, Tonks, for what I imagine was your timely intervention."

"Just doing my job, Headmaster," Tonks seemed to automatically snap to attention in Dumbledore's presence.

"None of that formality, my dear," Dumbledore dismissed. "You graduated nearly five years ago now. And you're now a full-fledged Auror. Feel free to call me Albus."

Tonks was obviously not completely comfortable with that allowance. I nudged her knowingly, "You get used to it."

Dumbledore ignored our little exchange, "Now, Atlas, I think it's best if you go find your ward and her friends. The festivities have already started and I suspect they've been sucked into the flow of things. I'll take Tonks here and get her situated in the Castle for the time being."

I cursed under my breath, "Blast… Of course, they got sucked into things when all Heather needs right now is rest. I'll see you later, Tonks. It's been a pleasure meeting you."

She tried to stop me but Dumbledore's next words put a halt to that, "Oh, let him go, Tonks. Do not worry. Atlas will not be in any danger within Hogwarts' walls. How about we go see your Auror mentor in the meantime?"

Tonks stopped in place and shuddered viscerally, "Moody's here? Ah, shite…"

As I made my exit, Dumbledore chuckled, "He is. Though… I have been slightly worried about him lately. He doesn't seem to be himself…"

I didn't catch any more of the conversation, slipping through the Castle's main doors. As I began my search for Heather and the rest, I was struck by a strange thought. I don't think I've ever seen a map of Hogwarts. Seems like an oversight. I couldn't tell how many times one would have helped navigate the twisting staircases and corridors that appeared to go nowhere but ended up by the Great Hall.

Still, there was only one logical place the girls could be at the moment. They must have been dragged to Gryffindor Tower by the twins. The Weasleys probably meant well but they'd taken Heather right to the place where she'd get no rest at all. Right into the lion's den so Heather could feel her House's opinion of her switching dramatically yet again. Just because she hadn't immediately died during the First Task…

Public opinion was fickle like that. And right now, it was the last thing Heather needed. I could only hope I arrived before either Heather or Hermione (or Merlin-forbid, Luna) snapped at the wishy-washy masses of Gryffindor House.

It turned out that I didn't even need to slip past the Gryffindor portrait and into the Common Room. I ran into Heather, Hermione, and Luna standing outside with an unlikely fourth. They were in a heated conversation so I stayed back momentarily to observe Ron Weasley try to weasel himself back into Heather's good graces.

"That's a poor excuse for an apology, Ron, and you know it!" Hermione lectured with her hands on her hips. Heather looked like she was fit to pass out at any moment. Luna just looked back at me and discreetly smiled and waved.

"Oh, get off my back! What do you want from me?" Ron groaned. "I said all the right things. She probably didn't cheat and all that junk."

"How about actually apologizing?! Saying the words 'I'm sorry'?" Hermione was more than offended enough on Heather's behalf for both of them.

Heather exhaled her exhaustion, "Ron, can't we do this some other time? I'm dead on my feet here."

Ron sneered, "Oh, so you're too good for me now, is that it? Can't even spare a couple of seconds to forgive your best mate?"

Heather slumped, almost in defeat, "Do we really have to do this?"

"Yeah, I think we do!" Ron yelled. "It's obvious something more's going on! You've been trying to push me out all summer! All because, what? This is about that rotting Professor, isn't it?"

"Alright," I finally made myself known. "None of this seems to be productive. How about we all just take a breather and revisit this conversation in the morning? Heather could use some actual rest and I think you could use the time to get your thoughts and feelings in order, Ron."

"Mingy tosser," Ron grumbled.

Heather, however, hopped on the chance to disengage, "Great idea, Atlas. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some sleep. And considering the reception we received tonight, I doubt I'll be able to do that in the dorms."

"Where are you going to sleep?" I asked as Heather walked away and Ron stormed back through the Gryffindor Portrait door.

Heather's answer was instantaneous, "Room of Requirement. I can even ask it to make me a nice hot bath to soak in."

I nodded, "Alright. Are you sure you're okay? After everything that's happened today, it's alright to be a bit vulnerable."

"Honestly?" Heather sighed. "No. No, I'm not. I fought a Dragon. Even with Hermione's Runes, that was terrifying. And then once I'd survived, everyone instantly switched up the way they acted around me. Now, I'm back to being the 'hero of Gryffindor' and they still think I cheated my name into that damned Goblet."

I slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my side as we walked. She all but collapsed into the embrace, barely managing to continue putting one foot in front of the other. Hermione and Luna trailed just behind us.

"What did the Auror want to talk to you about?" Hermione asked.

I snorted, "Merlin, that's a whole other can of worms…"

IIIII

I didn't see Tonks again before I went to sleep for the night. I just had to assume Dumbledore set her up with quarters near mine since her whole purpose here was to guard me. Still, I put it out of my mind and retired early for the night. The after-task festivities were still going strong with parties in Common Rooms and more private 'parties' in the Castle's various broom cupboards. The policing of those things wasn't really my business though.

I recounted the interview with Dawlish to Hermione, Heather, and Luna. It was met with muted outrage. Mostly they were too tired to deal with it right now. Luna, as always, was the exception but she seemed happy to put my future troubles on the back burner as well. As far as she could see, she had more interesting things to do at the moment.

"Luna! Hands to yourself!" Hermione chastised.

Luna pouted, "I'm just helping Heather into bed. Look, she needs all the support she can get. Especially here~"

Heather let out a tired moan as Luna's hands did their best to cup her breasts, "Y-Yeahhhh~ I wouldn't say no to some support while I sleep."

Chuckling to myself, I left them to figure this out for themselves. I trusted Luna to sleep with Heather and Hermione without going too far. It was just nice to see her making more friends, I thought as I made my way back to my room to collapse myself.

When I did, I found Septima waiting for me, "Co~ven~ Lord~ Come let me show how proud of you I am~ Coaching a Fourth Year through a life-threatening task. It makes you seem so… ~competent~"

The sight of her in a Witch's hat and thigh-high stockings with a garter belt instantly brought me back to full wakefulness. Soft and plush from a mostly sedentary lifestyle, the stockings and garters bite into the flesh of Septima's lower body. She gave me a sultry grin from beneath the brim of the Witch's hat.

My cock was immediately throbbing in my pants, threatening to tear through its cloth prison. I, of course, helped it free itself. No sense in keeping a lady like Septima waiting. Her grin widened as my clothes came off in a blur and she giggled as I stalked toward her. My lips pressing against hers pulled a gasp from her lungs and her hand sought out mine to intertwine our fingers. Needless to say, an hour or so was 'wasted' before we actually got to sleep.

Much later that night, I was struck by a sense of deja vu. A knock at the door to my quarters brought me back to the first night of the school year when Luna appeared at my door and in my life. Something groggy in the back of my mind desperately hoped this wasn't a repeat as I got up to answer the knock. One Luna in my life was more than enough for me, thank you.

Septima stirred vaguely from the sudden lack of my body heat. Hopefully, whatever this was would be dealt with quickly. I had a strange premonition that it wouldn't be though.

I opened my door to thin air, "Hello?"

The air shifted, pulling back on itself to reveal Heather's head, looking much more rested than when I left her, "Can I come in?"

I sighed but welcomed her inside, "Of course, Heather. Anytime. What's up?"

She breezed past me into the room. The invisibility cloak around her was removed and bunched up in her hands, revealing that Heather wasn't alone in her late-night visit. Padfoot stood at her side, previously covered by the cloak and looking… serious.

Heather herself looked about as nervous as I'd ever seen her. Even the Dragon hadn't worried her as much as her purpose now. Septima stirred completely now that we weren't alone, collecting the sheets of our bed around her naked body. Only then did I realize I was woefully underdressed and move to rectify that.

Heather's eyes looked everywhere but at me, "I-I-… We have to tell you something. And I need you not to freak out. I'm putting a lot of trust in you. Like, a lot. But my advice went unheeded and my hands are kind of tied now."

"Is this something you feel comfortable telling Septima too?" I asked, pulling on a pair of pants and throwing an open shirt around my shoulders.

Heather's eyes darted to Septima, then to Padfoot, and then back to me, "… Do you trust her?"

My answer was immediate and firm, "Yes."

"Then I will as well."

I stayed quiet as Heather seemed to gather her courage. She looked to her familiar, "Well, Padfoot? Now or never."

Before I could question Heather's actions further, Padfoot stepped forward. As he did, his form began to shift and change.

"Fuck, Animagus… That makes so much sense now," I muttered to myself as the change was completed.

Eventually, two people stood in front of me instead of just a young woman and her dog. Padfoot's shaggy mane stayed in the form of a head of long, wavy hair. Features that looked oh-so-familiar were partially obscured by a shoddily-shaven beard. I was struck motionless in the face of that familiarity. In the background, I vaguely heard Septima gasp and reach for her wand. At the same time, the door to my quarters slammed open again and Tonks fell through it with a rolling stumble, coming up with her wand at the ready and pointing at Padfoot.

"Wait! Sirius is innocent!" Heather hurriedly exclaimed.

Sirius Black was in my room. At Hogwarts. Next to the woman he was supposed to be hell-bent on killing. And she was vouching for his innocence. And an Auror had just barged in on me with a wanted fugitive. And somehow, all I could focus on was the familiarly sheepish grin Sirius Black was showing me…