There was a memorial stone there now. Sirius didn't know when the stone had been put up, but he recognized the magic. In his dog form, he could almost smell it. At some point, Remus Lupin had travelled to Hogsmeade and, even with his terrible knee, made his way up the side of a mountain and stood in this very spot to place the stone that Sirius now stood before - in human form because it seemed disrespectful to be any thing else.

Professor Theodore "Ned" Veigler, 1951 - 1978, Beloved Brother - He was a Very Good Man, but a Very Terrible Wolf

Sirius stared at the stone, then ran his palm over the face of it, his fingers slipping between the grooves of the etched-in lettering. He could picture Remus sitting here in this spot and carving this stone with these words. He peered over the edge of the cliffside at the village far below, blurry from distance, and beyond it, rising up from it's hill, nestled among the trees of the Forbidden Forrest, Hogwarts. The spires of the castle pointed into the grey-blue sky, clouds slipping past. He could see the specks of owls fluttering around the owlery and the occasional thestral breaking the tree cover and flying along the surface of the water.

It was a beautiful place. Before it had become Ned Veigler's death place, Sirius had thought it might be a nice place to come and have picnics on a date and he'd joked about as much - right there, he thought looking at the boulder he'd suggested Remus lean him up against. Sirius flushed and looked away from the boulder, back to the memorial stone.

The cave behind him was mostly closed in from the blast that had emitted from Remus's own wand that day, a defensive measure, an attempt to kill Voldemort and the Death Eaters who had taken the life of Ned Veigler. Remus had boldly shot a bombarda into the roof of it and collapsed the entire open mouth of stone, been nearly crushed himself beneath it all. It was clear that there had been some attempt to excavate the cave since then, by either Remus himself, looking for a body to bury, or else by some member of the Order, Sirius reckoned. Stones had been moved aside and stacked, clearly by magic, creating a gap.

A person couldn't fit through that gap.

But a dog could.

Sirius had slipped into the gap and explored a bit in the back of the cave. There was a solid back wall with no fissures in the back, and enough space that, once he was in, he could easily transform to human. There was room to stretch and breathe in there without being exposed to the elements - or to wandering eyes. He'd found a nice place among the trees just 'round the bend, too, where Buckbeak - er, Witherwings that is - had built himself a nest and found quite a lot of wild things to eat. The hippogriff was rather happy there.

He'd managed to slip into the inn with Oliver Kent several more times that week - though some nights Oliver had kicked him out, most of the nights Oliver seemed to be almost warming up to the idea of having another creature in the room with him. He didn't talk to the dog, but he did drop scraps of the dinners he brought back from the pub and Sirius had done pretty well for himself off the bits and pieces Oliver gave the dog. But the nights he wasn't invited there, he'd been tredding the steps up the mountain side and slipping into the cave to protect from the howling wind.

He had to get into inn tonight, though, one way or another.

Tonight, he was to meet Harry in the floo.

Sirius watched the students milling about in the village below, their black uniforms making them look like ants milling about an overturned stone, clustering and rushing about. He wondered if Harry was down there and reckoned he must be - after all, Sirius himself, as godfather, had signed Harry's permission slip for him to go to the village with the other students. Harry needn't to sneak about to go this year. Surely he would be taking advantage of the day, spending it with his friends, drinking butterbeers and having a good laugh.

Sirius wondered whether Ron was as good a friend to Harry as James had been to him? Impossible, he thought. No one was a better friend than James. But maybe Ron could be as good as one to Harry as he had been to James? Well. Hopefully better than he had been, he thought with a pang of guilt that shivered down his spine.

He had thought about going back down to the village as Snuffles and finding Harry and spending some time with him, but he wasn't sure Harry would recognize him in his dog form and he didn't dare turn into himself in the village out of doors. He didn't have any where safe to show Harry who he was and if Harry was having fun and spending time with his mates, Sirius didn't want to interrupt that or make Harry feel like he had to hang around with an old slob like him when he could be around Hermione, who the papers had said was Harry's girlfriend now... He pictured what James would've been like if he'd invited himself along on a date with Lily during a Hogsmeade weekend. He probably would've ended up hexed, he laughed to himself.

So instead, Snuffles slid through the gap in the rocks and he curled up in a ball inside, his nose tucked beneath his tail, and fell asleep. Things were easier when he was asleep.

When he woke, it was with a spark of panic and his eyes snapped opened and his fur bristled. He stared through the dark, heart racing, and sniffed at the air - but nothing was nearby except the dusty scent of Buckbeak, who he could hear out in the trees, crunching on something he had caught in the woods. It was dark outside of the gap in the stones and he slid outside, stretching and looked up at the stars and the moon, figuring out the time by their placement in the sky.

The village below was much calmer down, the students back up in the castle, where the lights in the windows glowed orange-gold against the horizon, the castle itself a dark gash against the moonlight. Snuffles made his way along the road, past the Hog's Head and into the square, looking 'round and snuffling about, trying to catch Oliver Kent's scent. He caught it on a breeze and found he'd come down to the village just in time as Oliver was just making his staggering way between the Three Broomsticks and the inn, where he was staying. Snuffles slipped into step behind him, close enough to get in doors along side him, but far enough back so as not to be noticed. Oliver was clumsy and muttering to himself, something about somebody named Colin which Sirius didn't understand.

The inn was busy, the lobby crowded by folks having a sit down in the common area, all discussing the Tournament. A man in an old Wasps jersey was taking bets on who might get best marks on Tuesday's task, and there was a preening blond reporter woman interviewing a wizard, asking if he though Harry Potter had a chance and speculating on what she though the task might be.

Oliver didn't even react when the man in the Wasps jumper rushed over and asked if he wanted to make a bet on Cedric. He waved him off with slurred words, "Naaarighnaw Lu," and staggered upstairs clumsily, nearly falling twice on the steps before he made it to his room, oblivious to the dog following behind him.

Snuffles slid under the bed while Oliver took off his boots and changed, and he climbed onto the bed, the springs and frame creaking as he rolled over. It took mere minutes before his breathing was deep and even, and Snuffles waited even a few minutes longer before sliding back out from under and inspecting that Oliver was truly out.

When he was sure, he transformed back into Sirius.

It was half twelve and he would be talking to Harry in just thirty minutes. Sirius set a locking charm on the door and a silencing charm to keep anything he said in and to keep any knocking on the door out. He did not need anyone coming 'round and interrupting his Harry time.

Not even that engima with blue hair, whose scent was so similar to Remus Lupin that Sirius had thought Remus had returned to the inn.

The clock was slowly crawling toward one o'clock and Sirius nervously kept peeking in Oliver's direction. His heart raced with nerves and excitement and worry and glee and fear. Seeing Harry was his greatest hope and his biggest fear at the same time. He was kneeling before the fireplace, floo powder in hand, and at precisely one o'clock, he chucked the handful of green powder into the flames and stuck his head in.

The floo rushed about his ears - he had always hated the feeling of flooing just his head like this, but for Harry he would lob his head off if that's what the kid needed, and he found himself shaking ash from his eyelids and hooking his chin over a narrow birch log.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the chair nearest the fire in the Gryffindor common room, a dazed, far-off look to his face. The boy leaned forward against his knees, his hands hanging limp, his head bowed... Sirius knew immediately there was something very wrong, and his heart leaped in his chest.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up and his green eyes pierced Sirius Black straight to the soul. "Sirius!" Harry said and he fell down onto the floor before the hearth, crawling forward on his knees to get as close as he could without being burned. There were shadows beneath Harry's eyes - a lack of sleep and worrying telltale upon his face, and Sirius felt that old protective worry rise up in his chest that he hadn't felt in so long that it felt foreign. Harry's eyes brimmed with emotion, not quite tears but as close to as a boy can be, and he looked at Sirius with a rapt relief that Sirius had not seen since...

James.

The way Harry looked at him, the way he knelt there before the hearth, the broken undertone to his voice... Sirius remembered the night he came down the stairs to see James talking to Charlus. He remembered how strong James had always acted and his heart ached at the thought of what Harry must be going through... and the face that Harry must be wearing 'round his friends. It hadn't occurred to him before to think about that, to think about the anxiety and worry and the pressure - he'd only thought about the physical, external things that would be endangering Harry through all of this. But in that moment, looking up at this doppleganger of his father... holding the world, just like his Dad.

Just like Sirius had once sworn he'd never let happen.

"How're you doing?" Harry asked, and a trembling smile came across his face - it looked as though it might have been the very first in a long while, and Sirius's heart swelled, close to bursting.

"Nevermind me," Sirius answered, shuffling on his knees, keeping his balance against the hearth with his hands outstretched, holding onto the brick frame of the fireplace. "How are you?"

"I'm f---" 

Sirius could see the fine formed on Harry's lips when he stopped, saw the way it caught in his throat, the way his lips twitched with the effort of holding it back.

How many automatic "I'm fine"s had Harry muttered since Halloween night?

Sixth year James tumbled through Sirius's head, recovering from the time spent in Havmork with Voldemort, James had zombie-walked through the motions of everyday life with people constantly treating him like glass and it had weighed on James. He'd carried all the world, all the horrible memories that Sirius - that no one - had known the extent of until years later (and then, only because of love magic). And the refrain had been the same.

I'm fine. I'm alright. Don't worry about me.

Sirius's eyebrows came together with concern now as Harry stumbled on it.

Harry stared at him - and as Sirius watched, the walls crumpled.

"I'm scared, Sirius, I'm so scared and I dunno what to do and my best mate isn't talking to me, Ron, he thinks I did this on purpose, that that I chose to be in this messy lot and I dunno how it even happened - I dunno how it happened, I didn't ask to be entered, I don't wanna be a champion, Sirius, it's so horrible and everyone in the school thinks I did it, everyone thinks I'm seeking glory and whatever and that I'm trying at stealing Cedric Diggory's glory and I don't want any glory, I just wanna be me, I just wanna be Harry, Sirius... and they hate me, Sirius, the whole bloody school HATES me and I'm just so - I'm so --" he started crying here, tears rolling down his face, "I'm so scared. And there's this - this re-reporter that's - that's written a st-story about me and everyone thinks I'm - I'm crying at night about my dead parents and I am, I s'pose but - but I didn't want them to kn-know that and I don't wanna be all over the papers, but they're doin' it anyway. And Sirius, I can't even walk down a corridor. I can't go to lunch or the library or even the LOO without somebody looking at me and sneering at me and wearing these - these horrible badges that says I stink and all - all I want -- I - I --" his voice broke and he covered his face, weeping for a moment.

"Oh Harry," Sirius whispered and it took all his strength not to let himself drop the rest of the way through the flames right then and there and hold Harry in his arms like he had when Harry was a baby. 

"Ron's so mad at me, Sirius," Harry said, "He's so - he's jealous, you know? He - he hasn't spoken to me all month and I feel like I'm going mad. I love Hermione, but --" he stopped a second then he said, "I mean as a friend, not the way that Skeeter woman makes it sound, either! But I think - I think Ron believes her and Ron thinks I did this all on purpose, that I want it, that I like the attention and he - he basically has called me a liar, and I dunno how to make him see I d-don't want to compete in the tourney, I don't want to be a champion." Harry's eyes suddenly lit up. "And Sirius - bloody hell, Sirius - and now Hagrid - Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task - and it's dragons., Sirius... and I'm a goner!"

 Sirius felt his stomach knot up.

"Dragons we can deal with Harry," he said, his voice shaking - even as his heart screamed to panic, he knew he had to keep it together for Harry. If what he had been reading about the tourney when he was at the Lupin house in York was true, then there really was no getting Harry out of the binding contract of being chosen by the Goblet of Fire.

The age restriction was a man-made rule that was extraneous to what had been magically coded into the Goblet's choices. The Goblet knew no difference in the ages of the people who had entered and therefore it didn't make any discretion between the fact that Harry wasn't of age according to the man-made rules. What the Goblet knew was that it had been tasked with choosing - with the power of mythical gods or starlight or whatever the hell it was made of, Sirius had thought the whole legend behind it sounded like  tosh - was someone who was capable of winning - in that their mind and their determination was strong, among the options it was given. If Harry's name had come up, the Goblet had seen something in him that was capable of making it through the Tournament was the conclusion that Sirius had come to... But even if Harry wasn't, it did not matter how old he was or what the man-made rules were. The Goblet's choice had represented a binding, unbreakable contract that meant if Harry did not complete, the contract would be broken and the collateral would be due. Harry's life would be due.

So as angry as Sirius was, as angry as Sirius felt, as much as he hated that Harry's name had been put into the Goblet - he knew there was no stopping the competing in the Tournament. And to stop Harry from competing was as good as killing him anyway. Harry had to compete.

The scary thing was Harry not knowing who put his name in... because it meant, Sirius deduced, that there was someone at Hogwarts that wanted Harry to be bound to competing, that wanted to kill Harry without ever actually lifting a finger, without being the one who could be blamed for killing him. It was a win-win way to bring about the death of him... If he competed, the odds were stacked against him tremendously. And if he didn't compete... well, the magic would take it's due.

And Harry's determination, Sirius thought, had already been proven. Just like James, the determination of a Potter was strong enough to do the impossible, to stand up against things like dragons and torture and life and death situations... to beat the odds. 

Sirius had no doubt or lack of confidence in Harry: he was James's son. He had it in him to defeat Voldemort -- he'd already done that and he was only a baby when he'd done it! -- dragons were nothing. Dragons would be easy for him.

But he'd learned a great deal reading the article in the papers he'd been stealing about town and he'd been thinking and thinking, trying to come up with the answer on who the person was that had put Harry's name in. Sirius wasn't nearly as worried about the Tasks as he was who the hell at Hogwarts had it out for Harry... and what they would do when the Tasks did not kill him.

There was a sound behind him and Sirius looked over his shoulder, terrified that Oliver Kent was waking up already somehow, that maybe his voice was too loud and had roused him out of his passed-out state, but he had only rolled over without opening his eyes. His face now was aimed toward Sirius, though, and if he did open them... Sirius would be found out.

"Dragons we can deal with, and we'll get to that in a minute," Sirius said, hurrying, turning back to Harry. "I haven't got long here, I've broken into a wizarding inn to use the fire, but he could wake up at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "What?" he asked, "There's more?" 

"Karkaroff," Sirius said. 

The way Sirius's blood had chilled seeing Karkaroff's name in the paper as being one of the people at Hogwarts... He could still see the looming, dark figure in the halls of Durmstrang when they'd arrived there to rescue James Potter from Voldemort. Sure the one he was picturing had really been Maryrose Jenkins, morphed to impersonate the real man, but Karkaroff had been there and had been aware of James's torture, had allowed Voldemort to hold James Potter captive in his castle, under his protection... 

"Harry, Karkaroff was a Death Eater," Sirius said, "You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes -- he -- what?" Harry stammered.

"He was caught and he was in Azkaban with me," Sirius said. He could still remember the night they dragged the old bastard in. Sirius had stood at the gate of his cell, peering out as they passed, and he'd felt like spitting at him - the man who had facilitated so much pain and suffering in James Potter's life, the man who stood aside and allowed it to be done, who saw James suffer and didn't try to stop it... that probably watched, probably laughed, probably found James's suffering entertaining, like the Death Eaters were known to have done when Voldemort tortured people.

Rage simmered in Sirius's blood just thinking about it.

"He got released," Sirius whispered with a darkness to his voice. "I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year -- Moody, I mean -- to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

Mad Eye had stumped down the dark halls of Azkaban with Karkaroff's cuffed arms firm in his grasp as Karkaroff had fought the last of his fight. Sirius had seen Moody through the bars of his cell, too, his patronus staying in step around them, the only thing keeping the looming Dementors all around them from sweeping in and devouring them both.

Sirius's body trembled at the memory of the sight.

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry asked, and Sirius pulled himself back from the haunting memories of Azkaban, from the tendrils of Achlys he could feel slipping through him like dark smoke... "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," said Sirius - and his voice shook with bitterness. How dare the Ministry release him, how dare they after what he did to James. What he did to who knows how many other people, what he watched done to the victims of Voldemort, without defending them or trying to stop him or -- How dare he be the one who walked free and clear in the world, who was tried not once but twice, while Sirius sat, rotting in that cell, with no trial... Sirius barked a laugh and shook his head, "He said he'd seen the error of his ways and then he named names. Put a load of other people in Azkaban in his place..." A sneer caught on Sirius's lip as he remembered. "He's not very popular in there, I can tell you... And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his - just like he'd always done, the bastard." Sirius shook his head, then a thought occurred to him, "So watch out for the Durmstrang Champion as well. He'll be trained in the Dark Arts, Harry."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, "Are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the Goblet?"

"Possibly," Sirius said. He thought it highly likely - the person whose name he'd seen in the papers who was most likely and who had the most reason to. What a grand way to show his supposed allegiance to Voldemort and maybe win back some respect from the residual Death Eater community! To kill the Boy Who Lived.

"Well because if he did, he's a really good actor," Harry said quickly, "He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"Of course he did," Sirius said, "He knows how binding magical contracts work. Stop you from competing makes him look real good for standing up for you - let the magical terms do as they will and he gets the credit for being a good man protecting the child --" Sirius shook his head. "Besides that, we know he's a good actor because he convinced the Ministry to set him free, didn't he?"

Harry's eyes were wide and he nodded numbly.

"Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry --"

"You and the rest of the world," Harry muttered.

"-- and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but I don't think so. I don't think Moody's as mad or far-gone as the Prophet is painting him to be, as the Ministry's painting him to be. Remus said that Moody was at least a bit on my side after he talked with McGonagall and Dumbledore and the Ministry doesn't want me to be innocent after all and they don't want the rumors getting out about what's really going on. Nymphadora's told me as much," Sirius continued, "So of course they want everyone to think he's mad, to think he's lost the plot. But I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with Mad Eye Moody around. And no one's going to look too closely - Mad Eye was famous back in the day for doing constant training drills, like a boy who cried wolf, he's heard intruders a bit too often and got people up in arms over nothing... But that doesn't mean he can't spot the real thing. Moody was the best auror the Ministry ever had."

"So... what are you saying?" Harry asked. "Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But -- why?"

The fear in Harry's face made Sirius hesitate.

How to tell Harry what Tonks had been telling him and Remus all summer long? How to let Harry in on the things that he, Sirius, was thinking?

What he, Sirius, was feeling... through a faint, but still existent, love magic connection forged many years ago...

A stirring he feared the rumors might just explain.

"I've... been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly. "The Death Eaters... seem to be, well, they seem to be a bit more active than usual lately."

Harry looked confused.

"They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark... and then -- Well, did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?" Sirius asked.

"Bertha Jorkins?" Harry asked.

"She disappeared in Albania," Sirius said, "That's... definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last... and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she? She would've known all the details... If Voldemort got the details from Bertha Jorkins, he would have known the way into Hogwarts was through his old mate Karkaroff," Sirius said darkly.

"Yeah but... it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?" said Harry and his voice shook.

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins," Sirius said grimly, "She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your Dad and me. She was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains... none at all." She'd been one of the girls that had once hung about with Carly and Annalee and the rest of those horrible girls. Sirius shook his head, "It's not a good combination, Harry, being nosy and stupid. Very easy to lure into a trap."

"So... so Voldemort would have found out about the tournament? Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on - on his orders?"

"I don't know," Sirius admitted. "I just don't know. Karkaroff was never the type that would go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. He was a coward." Sirius frowned. "But whoever put your name in the Goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

Harry was quiet for several seconds, and then he murmured, "Looks like a really good plan from where I'm standing." His mouth turned in a somber grin, "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff." He shrugged... resigned... his chin dropping to his chest, half given up.

"Harry. You have to stay confident. You have to remember that even though you didn't put your name in, the Goblet still chose you. You aren't weak and incapable. You have your Dad's determination and your Mum's spirit in you. You have what it takes, Harry. You have what it takes to do this."

Harry looked up. "Sirius -- me -- against a dragon! I can't do that. I can't fight -- and they're so big and horrid and -- I can't do that! There's no way."

"Right -- these Dragons," Sirius said, switching modes, not liking the defeat in Harry's demeanor. "There IS a way, Harry."

Harry laughed, but Sirius continued, "Don't be tempted to try a stunning spell - dragons are too powerfully magic to be knocked out by a single stunner. You need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon --"

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," Harry said grimly.

"But you can do it! There's a way. A simple spell's all you need - sometimes the most simple, even the silliest, spells can do the trick on the worst enemies. There's a spell that I used to use against Death Eaters that caused ducks to fly out of their --"

Suddenly Harry's head snapped, looking away, up the dormitory stairs, his hand splayed to stop Sirius from talking, and panic set into his eyes, he looked at Sirius. "Go!" he hissed, "Go! There's someone coming!"

Harry's panic made Sirius draw back quickly and when he did, he under compensated for the way he was squatting before the hearth and he fell backward, tumbling onto the floor, landing spread-eagle on his back on the floor.

And to his horror, he found that he was staring into the wide, petrified eyes of Oliver Kent, who was sitting up on the bed, and staring right back at Sirius.