5.
Grim Plans

THE sun is getting close to setting when Remus finds Elio curled up in his office chair, asleep. Elio has his arms crossed over his chest, knees tucked up against them. The older man smiles fondly to himself at the sight, his stress easing slightly. That boy could find a way to sleep in the apocalypse, Remus is certain. Unfortunately, he has to disturb what he thinks cannot possibly be a comfortable rest as he approaches, ruffling his fingers through Elio's hair. The boy opens his eyes blearily and makes a confused hum as he looks around. It's as if he's forgotten he fell asleep here.

"It's getting late." Remus explains in a soft voice. Then, despite knowing the answer already, he adds, "You don't have to come if you want to sleep."

"M'Coming. Was just resting my eyes." Elio answers in a slur of words, rubbing his eyes. He sits up with a sniff, shaking his head and his sleepiness with it. "Have you taken the potion?"

"I did." Remus assures him. He disappears into the attached chamber to collect a spare change of clothes, to hide in the Shack just in case. It wouldn't do for a professor to be caught running through the halls naked. Even though he'd be more likely to just send Elio to collect some — you can never be too safe. "Have you got all your homework done?"

"Yeah." That's a lie. Remus doesn't even need to be looking at his son to know he's lying. But, he decides not to scold him. Not on a full moon, when Elio is already making sacrifices for him. "We got one essay for Care of Magical Creatures that was a piece of piss."

"Language." The scolding is lost on Elio, though it's largely given out of obligation. Remus knows his son well enough to know Elio does watch his language — when he has to. Those four words could easily summarise the boy's attitude to any sort of responsibilities and expectations. Only when someone is watching, or when it's convenient for him. Still, he plays the part well enough that anyone who doesn't know him would think he lives and breathes the perfect pureblood part.

And that's the goal. Anything to make them forget he's the son of murderer. When he was a child and starting to enter the public eye — enough for the gossip magazines to start noticing him — his father was all anyone seemed to care about. It was never just Elio Black; it was always Elio Black, son of Sirius Black. So Narcissa and Remus groomed any hint of Sirius out of him, trained him to be as prim and as proper as any other true Black might have been — for when he has to.

"It was, though." Elio says. "Snape gave us a rotten one on Inferni. Old bastard's nowhere near as good as you."

Of course, when he doesn't have to, Elio couldn't be more similar to his father.

"Elio, you should be treating your professors with a bit more respect." Remus sighs, hoping and praying the boy knows not to give Snape trouble in the classroom. The potions professor, undoubtedly, would need no encouragement in punishing the son of Remus Lupin or Sirius Black, let alone one with a connection to both. "C'mon, let's go then."

"It's Snape, though–" Elio dismisses the comment, nose scrunching up with contempt. They leave the classroom, halls fortunately empty with everyone likely at dinner.

"Professor Snape." Remus corrects. He earns a funny frown from the younger boy, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing.

"You don't like him, do you?"

"My personal feelings don't matter here, Elio. He's a professor and he was doing me a favour. That's enough. That doesn't change the fact that he's your professor, either. You'll get in trouble if you don't show a little more respect." Elio groans in a loud and exaggerated manner, as if the very idea of just being polite to Snape is torture. Remus can't blame him. His presence is insufferable, made worse by the long standing grudges mutually held. He doesn't even have the luxury of avoiding him, as the Potions Master is the only person able to make his wolfsbane potion for him. And Snape makes sure his distaste for help Remus with his furry problem is known.

Still, he is doing Remus a favour. Not only by covering classes and making potions, but by keeping his secret. Remus wouldn't even be teaching if Snape hadn't kept his lips firmly sealed. It might all be under duress, but it's something he can't help but feel a sliver of gratitude for. Even if that pains him.

"Cold, tonight." Elio mutters as they cross the grounds. Dark clouds fill the sky with the threat of rain that has been plaguing them all month. It's not raining now, but it will be pouring down later. Still, the younger boy chuckles. "Good night to have fur, eh?"

"Except for the wet dog stink."

"I don't know. I think some people like that smell." Remus stares at him incredulously. "I mean, someone out there has to. Some people love everything about dogs."

"Are you one of these 'people'?"

"No. That would be weird." Elio lets out a soft laugh. Somehow, by some sheer miracle, Elio has Remus' laugh. At least then the older man can hear him laugh and only hear Elio laugh. It would have been torture to hear a ghost in his amusement. "I don't even like dogs."

And that's the last thing shared between the two before they head into the Shack, to begin what will undoubtedly be a long night.

The next morning, Remus wakes up to find a large wolf dog lying beside him, stretched out on his side. It's a familiar sight, one that had filled Remus with dread the first time he'd caught Elio like this. Back then, it had still been early days and the boy had been a lot of smaller (younger, too). For a few seconds, that first time, Remus had thought he'd killed him, until the dog had let out a deep sigh. Another time, Elio had transformed back in his sleep — he'd still been figuring things out, adjusting to being an Animagus — and Remus had woken to see his small body all curled up. He'd thought he'd killed him that time, too. But, whether Elio had transformed back when Remus was wolf or human, he remained unscathed. Elio claims the wolf seems to like him, but Remus can't trust the great beast.

Changing silently — though he hardly needs to be conscious of how loud he is, Elio certainly isn't — Remus takes inventory of all the injuries this moon. They've become a lot less painful, with the wolfsbane and Elio's company, but he still wakes up with scratches. He's almost certain Elio encourages the wolf to go exploring and playing. It wouldn't be the first time. Remus has had to put a ban on initiating play fighting with the wolf, and he's certain Elio doesn't listen. From the way he sometimes talks about it, Remus thinks he sees the wolf as the pet dog he never had.

"Hey, Puddle, time to wake up." Remus says gently, pressing a hand on the dog's shoulder. He shakes the dog, rougher than he would to anyone else. "Wakey wakey."

Elio wakes with a doggish half-bark that turns into a groan as, in his disorientation, he switches back into a human. He stares at Remus for a few seconds before, predictably, his eyes start to shut.

"Oh, no, you don't. You can go back to sleep once you're at the dormitory." Remus gives him another shake, keeping him awake. Fortunately, it's a Sunday, so if he really wants to, Elio can just sleep for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, it's Halloween — so if he does that, he'll miss out on the celebrations.

"M'up." Elio manages as he sits upright, balanced by Remus' hand still on his shoulder. His hair and clothes are still damp and he smells like a wet dog. It overwhelms the older man's sensitive nose as he presses a kiss into the top of his head. "Y'kept runnin' 'round."

"What was that?" The boy sighs, clearly frustrated with his father's inability to understand him. He'll be like this all day - cranky, irritable — and Remus is just glad he won't have to bear the brunt of it. He's worse in the morning, though, woken against his will when he's likely only had a few hours of sleep.

"You kept running around." Elio enunciates each word carefully and properly, sounding like the Pureblood he was raised to be. However, breaking the rules of his etiquette training, each word is full of annoyance and said as if he's talking to an idiot. "I had to chase you all around the forest."

"Sorry." Remus says, and he means it. But he's waved away, all irritation melting away from the boy.

"S'fine. It was pretty fun." Elio admits as he massages his neck. "Just tired today. I'm going to go back and sleep, and if anyone interrupts that I'll probably murder them."

"Don't do that. You'll get set to Azkaban." The older man jokes as he rises to his feet. Elio follows at a much slower pace, stretching out all his limbs as he does so.

"Bet no one disrupts your sleep there. Might not be so bad once you get past the dementors."

"I think disturbed sleep would be the least of your problems in Azkaban." Elio falls silent after a soft yawn, either surrendering to his father's logic or — more likely — focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as they begin the trek back to the castle. His shoes scuff against the floor of the shack, barely lifting his feet.

Once they're back, Elio wraps one arm around Remus and gives him a half-hearted hug. He mutters something that sounds like, "Love you," before he departs for the Dungeons. Remus watches him go, thinking the younger boy looks like he's sleepwalking, before he decides to go catch a few hours of sleep in his own chambers.

*

"... Black, wake up." A girl's voice says sharply, echoing through Elio's sleep-addled head. Elio doesn't open his eyes, even when his body starts shaking. He knows, distantly, he should wake up. Someone is clearly trying to wake him up. But that message doesn't reach the rest of his brain. The thought is brushed away as soon as it rises, disappearing into his dream. His eyes refuse to open. Even the voice is just turned into a character in his confusing dream about dogs and puddings.

"C'mon, wake up, Black. We don't have all night," says the strange, Irish dog.

"Are all dogs Irish?" He asks — or tries to. The words are difficult, as if he was speaking another language.

"What did he just say?" The voice asks. Elio doesn't know. He doesn't have an answer. He's not even sure what they're discussing. He wants to tell the voice that, but no words come out. All he manages is a groan and a sigh, as he rolls onto his side to escape the shaking. They stop, briefly, and then return with a vengeance. The dog is starting to fade away, taking its mysteries with it. "Merlin's beard, Black, just get up!"

"This'll do it." Another voice says — deeper than the first. They're multiplying. That doesn't seem good. He's pretty sure voices aren't supposed to be able to do that. Then, suddenly, Elio finds himself slipping. Falling. He rolls off the bed and onto the floor with a painful thump. He doesn't like the second voice.

"I am going to murder you." Elio growls as the pain shocks him awake. He's no longer drowsy and disorientated, just irritable in his sleep deprived state. Standing above him, now on the receiving end of his tired glare, is a grinning Flint and a far more stressed-looking Gemma Farley. "This better be good."

"Is Sirius Black good enough for you?" Farley asks in her thick, Irish accent, solving one mystery and creating another. This knocks the last vestiges of sleep from the younger boy. He clambers to his feet, slipping on the sheet tangled around his legs as he does so. Flint manages to grab him before he falls to the ground again, one hand gripping him by the elbow.

"What about Sirius Black?"

"Keep your voice down. I haven't told everyone, to avoid mass panic." Farley hisses, looking around nervously. "We've been told to go to an emergency meeting at the Great Hall. Apparently Black was seen inside, up at the Gryffindor tower."

"He got inside?"

"Yes, that's what I said. Dumbledore will probably explain more, so just hurry up. I need to get some other students moving." The older girl is then gone, not waiting for any response. Elio is left reeling with the knowledge that his father was in the castle — could still be in the castle.

"Come on then, Your Highness." Flint says as he claps his hand on Elio's shoulder — hard. The gesture propels him forward, almost knocking him over.

"Can I put some shoes on first?"

"Nope!" Flint answers gleefully. It's as if he gets some sort of sick satisfaction from Elio's suffering. Ensuring Elio really can't put any shoes on — or even socks! — his hand remains planted firmly on the younger boy's shoulder, pushing and guiding him. It remains there until they're too far gone from the Dungeon for him to escape. Flint wanders off then, distracted in his new task of finding his friends. Elio briefly entertains the idea of finding Draco and quizzing him on what he knows, but decides he's far too tired to deal with his cousin and his inevitable nonsense right now. So, instead he finishes the trek by himself, filing into the hall with all the other students, listening to the noise without engaging.

The stone floor is cold under Elio's bare feet, just one of many discomforts as he stands in the crowded Great Hall. He's surrounded by confused faces, all trying to find out why they've been called here. There are whispers. Gossip. Theories. Accusations. Some have reached the logical conclusion that if they've been drawn out for an emergency meeting, then the cause is likely the escaped convict that has been throwing out their routine all term.

Elio is practically falling asleep on his feet. He's just about ready to drop at a second's notice, wanting to be anything but awake right now. If he doesn't get a good night's sleep tonight, it's going to add another day to the full moon recovery and risk putting him in a foul mood for the entire week.

"The teachers and I need to search the halls. Unfortunately, that means you shall all be sleeping in here tonight. The prefects will be standing guard, with Head Boy and Girl in charge. If anything happens, send word with the ghosts." Dumbledore's voice magically floats across the room, commanding silence with little effort. He offers no explanation to why the grounds need searching or why they are stuck in the hall. As he makes his departure, it's clear he won't be the one providing answers. He pauses briefly, only to wave his hand and say, "You'll be needing these... Sleep well."

The Great Hall alters itself so all the tables and chairs are pushed against the wall, leaving a wide space in the centre of the room. This is immediately filled with purple sleeping bags, one for each student. Everyone is caught up between claiming their sleeping bag and finding out what is happening. Listening into the snippets of conversation that are floating around him, Elio confirms that Sirius managed to get all the way to the Gryffindor tower without getting noticed, while they were all at dinner. The Fat Lady was attacked, but that is the only damage that has been done.

Sirius had been after Harry, that much is clear. What isn't clear is how he bypassed all the security with an unnerving amount of ease. This mystery occupies the thoughts and whispers of countless students. Theories are already being formed with the little information they have to go off, suspects collected.

Elio settles into the nearest available spot, not caring who he's surrounded by. It hardly matters when the only person he likes is on guard duty. All around him, all he can hear is the whispers of his father's name. As he settles down, he can feel the eyes linger on him.

"Sirius Black must have had someone on the inside." Someone nearby whispers, close enough for their voice to travel over to Elio. He wonders how many other people are thinking the same thing. How many of them think he helped Sirius into the school? Suddenly all the hushed voices feel pointed, accusatory. He has the connection. And he is a Slytherin — that in itself would be evidence enough for some of the people in this room. By tomorrow, will he be painted with the same brush as his father?

"Merlin!" Before Elio can get lost in his worries, someone, accompanied by a frustrated groan of an oath, quite literally pushes him out of his thoughts. A larger boy crashes into him, shoulder digging into shoulder. When he looks up, Elio is met with none other than the disgruntled face of Oliver Wood. The look of annoyance, shot at whoever is beside him, melts into one of embarrassment and concern as he apologises, "I'm sorry. I've got some first years next to me and I think they're fighting."

"S'fine. You didn't do any damage." Elio lies. Oliver has the weight of a well-trained Keeper, which was entirely focused on one of the bonier parts of both their bodies. His shoulder still stings, even after the other boy has gotten off him.

"Is your team ready for the match next week?" Oliver asks, settling in on his side so he can look at Elio. Of all the questions that could have been thrown his way, Elio is glad the one he receives feels entirely out of place and is completely unrelated to the recent attack.

"Light outs! Everyone settle down and go to sleep, no more talking." One of the Head Boys call out, the loudest of the group. Upon his command, all the candles flicker out and envelop the room with in darkness. Above them, the charmed sky is dark and gloomy, void of any stars. The only thing lightening it was the ghosts drifting idly around the ceiling, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

"I think Flint's asking for a postponement, because of Draco's arm." Elio answers in a whisper. Even the darkness can't hide the disappointment that fills Oliver's face. He rolls his eyes, which feels entirely warranted for Draco's overreaction. Of course, Elio doesn't say anything. His loyalty to both his cousin and his team outweighs any shared feelings he might have with the enemy. "You'll probably be up against Hufflepuff. But you didn't hear that from me."

"Of course not." Oliver obliges, fortunately. Elio isn't sure what sort of horrors Flint would inflict upon him if he found he was gossiping with the Gryffindor captain. "Still, not a bad start to the season."

"So long as the weather doesn't worsen." Though, with the weather's current track, Elio doubts the two teams will have that luck. He doesn't envy them, having to play in these conditions. "How's Gryffindor shaping up?"

"We'll be ready. We have a good team." A good captain too, Elio thinks. The compliment doesn't leave his lips. Oliver undoubtedly knows he's the best captain any of the Quidditch teams have this year and it won't do Elio any good flattering the enemy. Maybe he should be using this time to try and find out what he can about those two elusive tactics. But doing that will only shut the other boy off, and right now he's providing a much needed distraction. "Did you lot start training earlier this year?"

"Yeah, Flint's scared of you." Elio's response comes inside a yawn, without any filter. The Slytherin captain would, without a doubt, murder him if he heard. But Oliver chuckles softly and that seems to justify the comment. The darkness has made it harder for Elio to keep his eyes open, each blink growing slower as he watches Oliver's shadowy form. "S'Gonna be a high pressure season."

"Don't I know it." The boy mutters, his tone surprisingly light. Unable to fight it, another yawn bubbles up inside of Elio. "I'll let you sleep."

Elio mumbles something he thinks sounds like 'thanks'.

"Good night, Black."

"G'night, Wood."

With the Great Hall repurposed for sleeping, breakfast the following morning takes a more unconventional form. The tables that had been pushed against the walls fill with food, in a buffet-style. Students gather around, collecting their breakfast, before sitting on the floor. Elio somehow manages to bypass the queue when he wakes to the smell of cooked food. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a spread of different types of breakfast — porridge, eggs and ham, toast and marmalade, and a bowl of fruit.

Oliver sits quietly beside it, scooping a bowl of porridge into his mouth. He eats with a wolfishness that Elio can't look away from. It's as if he isn't even breathing, let alone affected by the heat of the food. All that seems to matter is consuming as much food in as little time as possible. Its fascinating. Mesmerising. It's only once he's finished that he even looks at the younger and realises he's awake.

"I got you breakfast." Oliver explains as he points to the uneaten food. With his previous display, Elio had half-thought it was just what he typically ate for breakfast. "I wasn't sure what you normally eat, but I didn't like the way the tables were starting to look. Kids are messy."

Elio pushes himself up into a seated position, examining the food. The porridge looks littered with sultanas and the fruit with grapes, immediately ruling out both of those. Eventually, he settles on the eggs and bacon.

"You can have those." Elio says, half-way through shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth, as he gestures at the porridge and fruit. "Can't eat grapes."

"Oh, sorry." The apology is waved away. Needing little more encouragement, Oliver takes the second bowl of porridge, allowing Elio another opportunity to marvel at his prowess. He eats with the same amount of gusto. Of course, Elio can hardly judge. The journey from plate to mouth has more eggs falling off his fork than being eaten. He'd certainly be winning no awards for polite eating.

"Oliver, are you going back to the dormitory soon?" A red-headed boy who can only be a Weasley, shiny badge pinned to his robes, asks as he approaches, coming up from behind Elio.

"Mmph," is Oliver's response, mouth full of porridge.

"You're a pig." Weasley says with such a dry and unimpressed delivery that it sounds as though just simply knowing Oliver is an ordeal in itself, as if this is his own personal hell. "I don't know what that means. Are you?"

"Aye, once I've finished eating." Oliver sighs, returning every bit of annoyance. The act of shovelling more porridge into his mouth before he speaks again seems entirely intentional, a jab at the other boy. "Why?"

"I'm doing one more round and then seeing if I can leave. Meet me at the doors when you're ready to go." As Weasley leaves, Oliver lets out a quiet chuckle and shakes his head. He puts the bowl to the side, now empty, and picks up the bowl of fruit.

"So, elephant in the room, Sirius Black." The Gryffindor starts as he stabs a fork through a piece of apple. Dread fills Elio as he watches. There is only so many things he could say, so many things he could be thinking, but his tone is too neutral to give any hint. "Do you reckon he's going to try again?"

"Probably. I don't really know." Elio answers honestly. "He escaped Azkaban to get here, so you'd think one failed attempt isn't going to scare him off."

"Mm." Oliver hums through a banana slice. When he continues, he pokes his fork in Elio's direction. "Don't take that the wrong way, though. I'm not asking because I think you're a suspect or have any inside information. I'm just concerned about Harry and you're sitting next to me."

Elio's mouth is full of bacon, so he uses that as an excuse to simply grunt in response. He's not really sure what he'd say, anyway. He wants to believe Oliver — he thinks he believes Oliver — but that doubt will be there for as long as his relation to Sirius might benefit someone. When it comes to people he barely knows, he can't truly judge their intentions. And so many of them do want something from him. It's worsened in the last month, since his coming of age has meant he's entered an entirely new market.

"Though, if you do happen to come across any information, I would appreciate knowing how mortal the danger my Seeker is in is." Oliver adds and his tone is light, jovial. "I wish he wasn't such a danger magnet."

"That's what you get for having The Boy Who Lived on your team." Oliver snorts softly as he eats a piece of strawberry. He seems to be avoiding the grapes. They're collecting in a pile at the bottom of the bowl, ignored in favour of everything else. Elio's suspicions are confirmed when the other boy finishes — leaving only grapes. All that's left is more toast than Elio intends on eating. "Want some of the toast?"

"You don't?"

"I'd probably eat... half of that."

"I'll take the other half. I can give them to Percy, maybe. Someone has to make sure he eats." Oliver takes two slices of the toast, one in each hand. Elio plucks up one of the others, taking a large bite. He doesn't like marmalade as much as he likes some of the other spreads, but it's sweet and warm and gives him a little hit of sugar before he has to start his Monday. "On that note, I'd better go find him. If I leave him waiting, he'll murder me."

"Don't die!" Elio calls out as he waves his toast in farewell.

Elio isn't alone for very long. Cedric finds him not long after, replacing Oliver in the empty space. He has a bowl of porridge in his hands, brown with all the sugar he's probably poured on it.

"How are you?" Cedric asks between mouthfuls, with far more manners than Elio could ever dream of having naturally. Somehow, the Hufflepuff is just effortlessly perfect. He isn't intentionally prim and proper, yet he'd have no issue charming even the most stuck up of Purebloods. And, in the same breath, he'd have the everyday folk proclaiming how down to earth and laidback he is.

"I'm fine. You're the one that's had a busy evening."

"We took it in shifts, but I still got barely any sleep. Luckily Dumbledore gave us all a free homework pass for today, so we can use the evening to rest." The younger boy explains. "But you're really fine? Black was just in the tower. That's got everyone else a little shaken up but– well, he's your father."

"Maybe, but it's Potter he's after. I don't have anything to worry about."

"You know, you're the only one saying that." Cedric points his spoon at Elio and it feels like an accusation. "I was listening to some of the professors last night, and they were just as worried about you as they were Potter."

"They're teachers, though. It's in their job description to worry about everything. If there's a risk the Lord Black could get hurt and cause trouble for them, they're going to worry about it."

"They're worried for you, not about you."

"I'm fine, okay?" Elio snaps. It's harsher than he meant. All he'd wanted to do was ease the anxiety the younger boy is clearly feeling, but instead he ends up biting his head off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

"It's okay. We're all tired. No hard feelings." Cedric bumps Elio's knee with a friendly punch, absolving him of his guilt. "Clearly you're fine, but I still think you should be careful. That's the last thing I'll say about all this mess, promise. Don't underestimate a crazy murderer just because he's going after someone else."

"I'm always careful." Hidden amongst his words is his promise that he will be careful. He doesn't have to say it for Cedric to know. Most promises could pass implicitly between the two, needing no verbal oath to be true.

*

The next day, Elio has the strangest sensation of being followed. And, when he's not moving, of being watched. At first, he brushes it off as paranoia. Of course he'd feel like someone was watching him when his father broke into the castle only the night before. But then it persists, until he's certain he's seeing something — someone — in the corner of his eye. The confirmation feeds the paranoia and suddenly every shadow is Sirius Black about to murder him. He practically runs from class to class, wanting to be outside of the protective gaze of a teacher as little as possible.

This all culminates to the point where, just before dinner, when he's hungry and starting to get tired, he stops feeling scared. He's just annoyed. Whoever it is has been bothering him all day and hasn't actually done a single thing yet. He hasn't been able to tell anyone, because it could just be his imagination. He'd feel awful if he went to Remus only for his father to confirm it's nothing but paranoia, and then be treated like a basket case for Merlin knows how long. If someone is stalking him and they're not going to show themselves, then he'll just catch them.

Once he catches sight of his little shadow in the corner of his eye, luring him away from any known secret nooks and crannies, he spins on his heels and breaks into a sprint. It is mildly comforting to note that there is, indeed, someone behind him. The second he starts running, they do too. He wasn't just going mental.

"Get back here, you–" There are too many things he wants to call his stalker. Bastard, freak, creep, prick, little shit. And yet not a single one comes out. He's too focused on trying to keep up. As he's running, risking worsening the distance between them, he draws his wand. He doesn't want to throw a jinx yet, but it can't hurt to be ready. "I'll throw you to the dementors if you don't stop!"

Elio manages to keep up. The shadow has a bit too much of a head's start for him to catch up as quickly as he'd like, but he manages to avoid losing them. Until, the stalker darts around a corner. Elio hadn't been that far behind but, when he turns into the next corridor, the person has disappeared.

"Bugger." Elio mutters. He doesn't stop running, in case the stalker is just on the other end of the corridor. It's a good thing he doesn't, too. Because, if he had, he probably would have really lost his stalker. Instead, running to where he thinks the shadow has disappeared to, he ends up crashing into absolutely nothing. Or, at least, it looked like absolutely nothing. As it turns out, there actually is something in the middle of the corridor. Elio goes sprawling, as does his assailant, and that's when he realises who has been stalking him. "Potter?"

Before Harry can make any escape, Elio pins him down, wand at the ready. The boy is a light, little thing, so it isn't a particularly difficult task. He is slippery, though, and it seems that it really is only Elio's grip on his robes and the wand in his hand that keep the boy still.

"Why are you following me?" The older boy's question comes out an angry shout as he jostles the younger. To his credit, Harry doesn't look scared. He glares up at Elio defiantly.

"Because you let Black in!" Harry has no trouble admitting his motive. The truth throws Elio off guard. He'd assumed people already suspected him — it wasn't hard, with some of the stares he'd been getting, especially from some of the Gryffindors — but no one has had the audacity to say it to his face yet.

"I didn't– Why would I help him?"

"I heard the professors talking. He had to have someone on the inside. He wouldn't have got past all the security, if he didn't."

"And you think that person is me?"

"You're his son. And you won't tell me anything about him." Elio feels laughter bubble up inside his throat. He can't fight it. His amusement comes out in a raucous cackle, finding the situation all too silly. "You threatened me."

"So you wouldn't go looking for Black!" Elio sighs and he climbs off of him. Once he's helped him up, he instinctively adjusts Harry's robes where he's pulled them out of place. The younger boy looks at him funny — still clearly not trusting him — but doesn't say anything. "I promised I wouldn't tell you anything, because everyone was concerned you'd go running into trouble."

"So you do know something."

"He's my father, Harry. Of course I know something."

"Will you tell me?" Harry asks. "I think if he's trying to kill me, I deserve to know why."

"Merlin– Fine, if it'll get you to stop bothering me about it, I will." It's a bad decision. A really bad decision. So bad that Remus has already tried to prevent it. But, unlike Remus, Elio has seen Harry's determination in action. Well, he's heard about it. If its infamy speaks for anything, it's that the younger boy is not going to let up until he gets what he wants. Elio is an easy target; he'll be bothered until something gives. Why not give up early, on his own terms? "But I'm not missing dinner. High profile people like us can't afford to be missing from it, anyway. 'Specially not with Sirius around. So we go, eat dinner, then you use whatever trick you used to make yourself invisible to come find me at the dungeon afterwards."

Harry opens his mouth, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Some retort hangs from his lips, but Elio waggles his wand dangerously in the boy's face before he can speak.

"No buts, Potter. If I'm going to get myself in trouble, those are my terms." The Gryffindor boy sighs — a clear sign of surrender. Elio is glad he hasn't put up a fight; he doesn't feel up for arguing right now.

The pair walk to the hall — together and separate. Harry walks a few steps behind Elio, his footsteps tapping softly in the silence. Neither speaks and Elio is grateful for it. He's sure, if he had more time to think about it, he'd probably realise how bad an idea it is to tell Harry about Sirius and his parents. But he's purposefully not thinking about it. Not at all. Instead, he's thinking about how he has far too much homework to do tonight that's probably going to eat into his sleep. He really should have done more over the weekend, but the excitement and the full moon meant he was too tired then to do it.

Dinner passes without any difficulties. Elio enjoys it as if he isn't about to go give the boy with a hero complex all the reason to chase after a mass murderer. He eats his mashed potato and gravy with only a twinge of guilt, knowing his father would not be happy if he had any inkling of what Elio plans on doing.

It's Elio's story to tell, just as much as anyone else. Actually, it's probably more his story than anyone else's. If Harry has to hear it from anyone, why shouldn't it be the son of the murderer?

That's, at least, what Elio tells himself as he takes Harry to a quiet part of the library. He assumes the boy is beside him, but it's hard to tell. As planned, he can't exactly see Harry. When they were walking through the corridors, he could hear his footsteps treading softly nearby and that told him he hadn't truly disappeared. But the carpeted floor of the library makes that trickier.

Fortunately, as Elio sits at the very back of the room, hidden by shelves, the boy's head appears. The sight of his floating head is unsettling and it's hard to look at him.

"Just come out completely. If anyone catches us, I'll say I was helping you study or something." Elio says, not wanting to spend this entire conversation talking to a disembodied head. That is more likely to bring questions than Harry sitting beside him normally. Fortunately, Harry is quick to oblige and a velvety cloak is folded between them. From his pocket, Elio withdraws one of the photos he's stolen from Remus: one of James, Harry, Sirius, and Elio posing for what looks to be someone's birthday. The two adults look tired, despite smiling widely, clearly in the middle of the war. He hasn't found the letter that would have been attached to it yet — if there even is one — so he lacks context. This, he passes to Harry. "I assume you can recognise your father, but that's Sirius, me, and you."

"They were friends?" Harry asks. His eyes remain glued to the image, drinking it in like a man stuck in the desert. Elio knows the feeling.

"Best friends. Prongs was my godfather, and Sirius was yours." The younger boy repeats his father's nickname in a soft whisper, a thought clearly passing through his head, a question rising. Whatever it is, it's quickly brushed away with the shake of his head, ignored in favour of more important questions.

"Then... why does he want me dead?"

"Before I tell you, I need you to promise me two things. I mean seriously promise me — you can't go breaking them in the heat of the moment and, trust me, there will be a heat of the moment. There may even be multiple moments." Harry nods his head firmly. "Firstly, you have to keep quiet. It's not going to do either of us any good if you get caught. Secondly, don't do anything stupid with this information. No one can know I told you, or that you even know. If I get in trouble, I will make your life miserable."

"I promise."

"You better." Elio warns again. Then, he enters the point of no return. "So, as you know, toward the end of the war, You-Know-Who set his sights on you. Dumbledore had someone on the inside who tipped them off, so your parents could take you into hiding before You-Know-Who could come after you. You-Know-Who would have broken through every charm and spell to get to you so, as long as he could find you, you'd be at risk. The best bet was to put their house under a Fidelius Charm, because then You-Know-Who could search up and down and he'd never be able to even find the house."

"What's a Fidelius Charm?" Harry asks.

"It takes a secret and it binds it to a person, who can then protect that secret for as long as they live. It can't be forced out of them; they have to give it up willingly. You with me?" Harry nods his head once. "Well, as I said, our parents were best friends. James insisted Sirius be their Secret Keeper — they were like brothers, no one saw it coming. But Sirius was a traitor. He told You-Know-Who where your parents were hidden, and then he went and killed their other friend too. Only left a finger."

"HE–" Before Harry can even begin his outburst, Elio has his hand firmly pressed against the younger's boy, keeping it shut. He'd expected this. He knew, despite his promises, Harry wouldn't be able to control his emotions. It's completely reasonable. But Elio isn't incurring Pince's wrath because of it.

But Harry is crying — right into Elio's hand. Tears have started streaming down his cheeks, pooling across the older boy's palm. He looks so pitiful, so sad.

"Oh, Harry, don't cry. Please don't cry." The Slytherin says softly, carefully. He removes his hand, only so he can pull the younger into a hug. Harry hiccups quietly into his shoulder. In this moment, Elio feels strangely like the older brother he should have been to Harry. All he wants to do is shield him from all this hurt, to take it from him and lock it away somewhere where it won't ever bother him again. But he can't. He barely even knows the boy. He doesn't know what he likes or dislikes, what might help him in this moment. He doesn't know a single thing about Harry Potter, the boy hero.

"He killed my parents." Harry sobs, all the pain choking those whispered words. Elio rubs circles in his back, feeling useless. "I'll kill him."

"You can't. You promised me you wouldn't do anything stupid." The words are hollow. "He isn't worth the hassle, though. Trust me."

"He betrayed my parents. He made them think he was their friend and betrayed them. If it wasn't for him, they'd still be here." The tears have turned into anger. Harry's cheeks are ruddy and wet, eyes greener than normal. "If he tries to kill me, I'll be ready. I'll get him first."

"Alright." Elio sighs, surrendering to the younger boy for the second time this day. He hopes it doesn't become a habit. "So long as you're not going looking for him."

But he knows, with Harry, that's an impossible promise. This is the child who has run knowingly into danger in the two years he's been at Hogwarts, risked his life without a second thought at only eleven years old. He's not going to have gained any sort of maturity by thirteen. He'll go running into danger again.

Especially now that things are personal.

"We have to catch Sirius." Elio says to Cedric, without warning or any form of greeting, once he finds him in the halls. The Hufflepuff had been on Prefect duty, though he suspects that might be interrupted soon. Elio has a borderline crazed look in his eye, the sort of look he only ever gets when he's either set his sights on something or overwhelmed. Or both. He looks like he's sprinted the entire way here, cheeks flushed and panting. The fact he's even out and about right now is a bad sign.

"You're going to be breaking curfew if you don't get to the Dungeons soon." Cedric warns. He wouldn't ever punish Elio for that. The older boy knows that. But it allows him a moment to digest what Elio has said before he formulates an answer. In the brief silence that follows, the Slytherin falls into step beside him. "Why do you want to catch Sirius?"

"A multitude of reasons." Elio answers simply. So, they were playing this game again. The vague game. That probably means the older boy thinks he'll get in trouble for whatever he's thinking. "Some personal, some not."

"Let's start with the personal, then."

For a few seconds, there's silence and Cedric thinks he's not going to answer.

"I want to talk to him before the dementors do. If the dementors get to him first, he'll be killed and I'll never get the chance to speak to him again. If we find him, I can talk to him before he's offered up." The words spill past Elio's lips as if he's thinking out loud, having a revelation and responding. Entirely unfiltered, because his brain hasn't even figured out what it's filtering yet. "I just need to know him. I won't be able to stand it if that opportunity was there and I missed it."

"Right. Get some closure. That's understandable." Cedric is calm, because Elio is not. "And the other reasons?"

"We need to catch him before Potter does." And there goes the calm. Cedric stops walking, spinning on his heels so he can stand in front of Elio and look at him. He needs to see him — see the emotion pass over his face and betray whatever his words won't. There's apprehension etched across the older boy's face, like he's just waiting to get yelled at.

"Why?"

"Because I told him what Sirius did to his parents and he was understandably upset." Elio says quickly, a clear effort to try and reduce the impact with the speed. It doesn't.

"Why in Merlin's name would you tell Potter that? There was probably a reason he didn't already know."

"He kept asking me and he was going to keep asking me." Then, there's the deflection. Annoyance takes Elio's expression and he gestures vaguely, at nothing, in his frustration. "I don't see why I shouldn't be the one to tell him. Sirius was my dad. If anyone should be any bastion of knowledge about Sirius Black and what he did, it should be me."

"You told me you were okay!"

"I am okay!"

"This doesn't look okay! It looks like you're creating suicide missions that didn't exist, out of spite or because all Black cares about is Potter and all you're being told is to stay away and you need a reason to feel good about breaking Moony's rules." It's not fair. Deep down, Cedric knows he shouldn't be having a go with his friend. But it's getting late, Cedric is stressed with the upcoming Quidditch match and now the fear his best friend might go running into danger for — what? Nothing in this situation could be worth risking death for.

"I am not. Look, I told you why I want to catch him. There's no underlying issues. I'm fine." Elio frowns, running his fingers through his hair. It often feels as though Elio doesn't want to admit Sirius has any affect on him, as if admitting that will break down whatever walls the older boy has built up over the years and the mechanisms he's had in place since he was a child. But Cedric knows Elio. He knows what he's like when his father hasn't escaped, so he can see the differences.

Elio did not play the hero. He wasn't an uncaring person, but he cared about himself just a little bit more than anyone else — a healthy amount, that kept him safe when it might put a Gryffindor in danger. He knew when not to run straight into harm's way. If he didn't want to do something, it would be agony to get him to do it. Some prods from a little boy he didn't know wouldn't get him to cave so easily.

Last year's Elio wouldn't have gone chasing criminals.

"So, we have to make sure Potter doesn't go kill himself?" Cedric surrenders, knowing arguing isn't going to get them anywhere. It will only leave them both feeling guilty — and, worst case, not talking. Neither of them enjoy it when they're not talking. "What's your plan, then?"

"Hadn't figured that out yet." The admission causes Cedric to sigh. Trust Elio to devise a life-threatening mission and forget the plan. "We could use Potter as bait. If he's going to get himself into trouble anyway, might as well make the most of it."

"You want to save Potter from Black by putting him directly in Black's way?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." Now it's Elio turn to sigh. "We are going to have to figure out a way to deal with that, though. He is going to get himself in trouble."

"We are not doing anything, yet. You're going to have to start coming up with better plans before I agree to this."

"What about Oliver Wood?" Elio offers up, without context or any insight into his thoughts.

"We're not sacrificing Quidditch rivals."

"No, not sacrifice — recruit. We need a plan and he's the best tactician in this school. If anyone is going to be able to develop a fool-proof plan to capture the guy who escaped Azkaban, it's not going to be either of us. It's going to be Wood." He has a point. It's a tiny point, so small and difficult to follow it almost doesn't feel worth it. But it's a start. A step in the right direction. Of course, there is one small problem.

"Elio, you barely know the guy."

"Yeah, but we have a common ground. He doesn't want to lose Potter to Sirius either." Elio pauses, looking so smug that Cedric assumes he must have won. "He told me so this morning."

Cedric sighs again, "Fine, but you're doing the convincing. Tomorrow."

AUTHOR'S NOTE
It's dawned on me that Elio & Oliver share the names of the dudes in CMBYN. I'd like to go on record now and say that that is all they share, it was entirely unintentional, and that's the last we ever talk about that. CMBYN's Elio & Oliver wish they had what these guys have

Oh yeah I don't think I've mentioned this in this fic (sorry if I have) but you can listen to the entire series' playlists in one place under 'The Black Hole Chronicles' on Spotify (yungchild). Can't listen to any fics that aren't published in isolation until they're up, but here's a sneak peek