A bit of a short one coming up, but given how long it's been since I've posted anything, surely people won't be too upset by that, right?

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The completion of the match very quickly turned into a blowout. The Gryffindor team was feeling especially bouyant, and with Ginny back on her own broom she was in top form. They ended up winning by a margin of three hundred and twenty points; the look on Malfoy's face upon losing without even seeing the snitch before it was caught was one Harry would definitely remember for a very long time. Such an exciting end to a match that suffered such a gloomy beginning served to put the entire castle (with the obvious exception of Slytherin House) in a good mood moving from autumn into winter.

Professor Lupin too was again in high spirits. He had confided in Harry that he had attended the initial match against his better judgement, which had prolonged his recovery from illness (something the third year Gryffindors had noticed during their Defense against the Dark Arts lesson the Monday following the ill-fated game), but that he did not regret it.

'I'm certain Professor Dumbledore could have handeled the Dementors on his own,' he told Harry during their first Patronus practice session following Gryffindor's victory, 'but all the same I am glad I was there to help. You and Miss Weasley gave us all quite a fright, I don't hesitate to say.'

'Thanks again for your help, Professor,' said Harry, consciously preventing Prongs from escaping his wand. 'And at least I got to see what a real Patronus is supposed to look like. Are they always animals?' He had often genuinely wondered about this.

'Er, mostly,' said Lupin. 'There is a semi-legendary figure whose Patronus was supposedly a giant – I believe he has a Chocolate Frog card – but if true that is the only even remotely human-like Patronus I've ever heard of. There are no records of any non-animate Patronuses that I know of, nor anything manmade. I do know that they can be both magical and non-magical creatures, however, and there doesn't seem to be any preference for one or the other. It all depends on the witch or wizard who conjures it.'

'Like how Professor Dumbledore's was a phoenix but Professor McGonagall's was a cat,' said Harry. He tactfully did not mention Lupin's own Patronus, which he would very likely not want to talk about.

'Er, yes, precisely,' said Lupin. 'Let me ask you a question now, Harry. When the Dementors swarmed the pitch last Saturday, how did you react to them?'

'What do you mean?' asked Harry. 'You saw. I flew into the stands in case I started to feel faint again.'

'You misunderstand me,' said Lupin, smiling kindly. 'I meant how did your body react? Did you feel faint? Cold? Did you start reliving your worst memories?'

Harry had to think about it; it had all happened so fast, and he'd been so focused on getting to Ginny, that he hadn't really processed his own initial reaction beyond getting out of harm's way. But he did seem to recall both not noticing their presence right away, as well as eventually being clued in by the telltale signs that were always there.

'I did eventually. I think other people noticed them before me, though. But I did start to feel cold inside, yeah, and I heard…things...in the back of my head.' He'd never told Lupin in this timeline exactly what he experienced when the Dementors came too close.

'But you were able to keep your wits about you,' said Lupin. It wasn't a question.

'Er, yes,' said Harry.

'This is good news, Harry,' Lupin went on. 'It means all of your practice and training is starting to pay off. If you were able to keep your focus in the presence of that many Dementors, it means you're developing the mental fortitude necessary to be able to cast a Patronus in their presence as well.'

'You think so?'

'I do,' said Lupin. 'Even if your Patronus is not fully formed, I believe you have now reached a point where it can protect you long enough to escape to a safe distance at the very least.'

'If I'd been on the ground, though, where they were, they would have hit me a lot stronger. They did, after Ginny and I fell.'

'Yes, well,' Lupin said, clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly, 'that may be true, but please consider that encountering that many dementors at once is extremely rare. Also your injuries from attempting to help Miss Weasley no doubt hindered your focus. My point is that you have accomplished much in a very short time. I want you to take heart in that, Harry. You should be very proud indeed; precious few wizards could have progressed so far so quickly.'

Harry left this meeting feeling encouraged, though not perhaps the way that Lupin intended. He was confident now that if he found himself in a situation that called for it, he would be able to conjure a Patronus without fear of anyone wondering how he was able to do so. That was one more massive load off his mind.

The weather was growing colder as the Christmas holidays approached. Harry was once again invited again to spend Christmas at the Burrow and gratefully accepted. He remembered both Ron and Hermione staying at the castle with him before to keep him company. He and Ginny had wracked their brains, but they couldn't think of anything important that had happened short of Sirius sending him his Firebolt, which might not even happen this time as his Nimbus 2000 was still in perfect working order. Nor could they think why they hadn't gone to the Burrow that year.

'We didn't travel anywhere,' Ginny told him. 'I can't think why Mum didn't invite you. Maybe it just never came up, or Ron said he was going to stay at the castle before she got the chance to.'

'That sounds believeable,' said Harry. If she thought he really wanted to stay here she might not have bothered trying to convince him otherwise.'

'It was strange without him,' Ginny said. 'We were used to Bill and even Charlie not always being home for Christmas at that point, but not having Ron was weird.'

'It was weird here, too. Practically no one was around. There might have been a dozen or so people at Christmas dinner, tops.'

A year-end Hogsmeade visit was announced. This, as far as Harry remembered, was the one he'd been waiting for. And just to make sure things happened as he remembered, Ginny had been subtly dropping hints to her older brothers how hard a time Harry was having, not being able to go into the village.

Sure enough, on the last Saturday morning of term, walking back upstairs after saying goodbye to everyone on their way down the village, Fred and George surreptitiously called him into an empty classroom near a familiar statue on the third floor, and Harry once again found himself the proud owner of the most useful map of Hogwarts ever drawn.

Thanking the twins profusely, he decided he'd be wise to get his cloak first. That first trip into Hogsmeade stood out in his memory (it was where he'd learned the truth of Sirius's identity, after all), and he did remember being very cold.

He also put on his invisibility cloak on his way back out of Gryffindor Tower, so that the only people who could later claim to have seen him could only say they saw him going up to his dormitory, but never back down.

He remembered the tunnel into the Honeydukes basement being interminably long. Even if he hadn't, he had the somewhat recent experience of taking the one into the Three Broomsticks, which was equally arduous. Come to think of it, the twins hadn't said anything this time about it having caved in. He'd have to take a look at that. It was on his way down to the one-eyed witch, so he stopped by the mirror and sneaked into the tunnel. Everything looked fine so far. He took the stairs all the way down and started moving along. Still no obstacles.

Once the map showed him having left the school boundary, he turned on his heel and apparated to the end of the tunnel. No one had to know. He exited quickly and casually entered the pub, still wearing his invisibility cloak. Most everyone he knew was aware he wasn't allowed in the village, so if they saw him it would get everyone talking. He wouldn't have bothered to come at all except that Fred and George would expect it, and he didn't want to seem ungrateful or have them ask for the map back if he wasn't going to use it.

Sneaking out of the Three Broomsticks without bumping into anyone while invisible turned out to be more difficult than if he'd just walked out normally. Who was going to see him in this throng? Now that he was in the village, he reasoned he might as well seek out Ron and Hermione, so headed for the place they were most likely to visit first: Honeydukes.

As it happened, they were just entering the shop as he arrived, so he slipped in behind them before the door closed. He didn't see anyone else he knew inside, which gave him an idea.

'We should get something for Harry while we're in here,' said Hermione.

'Good idea,' said Ron.

'You don't need to do that; I can buy my own,' said Harry from behind them, pulling off his cloak.

They both jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around.

'Harry!' exclaimed Hermione, her hand grasping her chest.

'Bloody hell!' shouted Ron.

'Nice to see you, too,' said Harry casually.

'What are you doing here?' Hermione asked. 'How did you get here? I thought the gates were being watched. How did you get past the dementors?'

'Why don't I tell you in a place that's a little harder to overhear?' said Harry. 'Let's buy some sweets first. My treat.'

'What?' said Ron. 'No, Harry...' but Harry rode over him and wouldn't take no for an answer. They left the shop laden with sweets and headed back to the Three Broomsticks. Harry had never forgotten the lesson he learned in his fifth year after their ill-fated DA planning meeting in the Hogs Head: blend into a crowd and no one will pay you any attention. It had worked for him more than once during auror investigations.

In the pub, they squeezed their way through the crowd (Ron had gone up to Madam Rosmerta at the bar for drinks) until they found an unoccupied table in the back between a window and a big christmas tree next to the fireplace. It was likely it was still vacant because it was so tucked away no one else had even noticed it was there. Perfect.

Harry waited until Ron returned with the butterbeer, despite Hermione's obvious impatience for answers. He'd been weighing just what exactly he should tell them. He settled on a basic version of the truth: the map, where he'd gotten it, and what it could do. There wasn't really any point in obscuring any of that from them, he reasoned, and it might lead to awkward questions later anyway if they talked to Fred and George.

'How come they never gave it to me!' Ron fumed, outraged. 'I'm their brother!'

'But of course Harry isn't going to keep it,' said Hermione, practically scandalised. 'He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you Harry?'

'Haven't decided yet,' he lied. 'It's an awfully good thing to give up; think I'll wait and see.'

'Are you mad?' they both said at the same time.

'You're actually considering handing something like that in?' Ron said, aghast.

'You're going to keep it? With Sirius Black still out there loose? The teachers have to know about this!' argued Hermione at the same time.

'Fred and George should've given it to me after all,' said Ron.

'What if he tries to come in through one of those secret passages?' Hermione insisted.

'Slow down; you're just talking over each other,' said Harry. They each paused to take a breath, and he took his chance.

'I didn't say I was going to turn it in, Ron, just that I hadn't decided yet. Hermione has a point; if it looks like Sirius Black is using these secret passages to get in and kill me,' which he isn't, 'then yeah, it's probably for the best that the teachers know about it. On the other hand, Hermione, I don't think that's likely at all. For one thing, there are only seven passages and Filch already knows about four of them, according to Fred and George. One comes out under the Whomping Willow, one comes out in here, and one's in the basement at Honeyduke's. I really doubt a wanted murderer is just going to be waltzing into one of the busiest pubs or shops in the village and asking if he can visit the back room for a mo'. And aren't there supposed to be dementors patroling at night? I saw signs outside.'

None of this really concerned him, of course, but he absolutely needed to keep the map, and so it would be best if he could provide Hermione a suitable reason for doing so. Not necessarily one she'd accept, just one strong enough that she'd know she wouldn't be able to change his mind.

'I still think you should tell somebody, Harry,' she said sternly, her face stony. 'What if you misplace it and it ends up in the wrong hands? More people than Sirius Black could do some real harm with a map like that.'

'Hermione, he told us it has a password,' Ron reminded her, sounding exasperated. 'How's anyone supposed to use it if they don't know how to activate it?'

'Fred and George were able to figure it out,' Hermione pointed out. 'Unless you think they found it alongside a set of instructions.'

'Hermione, I'm not about to leave it lying around,' Harry assured her. 'I'm just as likely to leave my invisibility cloak somewhere anyone can take it. Relax a little.' He realized of course as he said this that he had left his cloak lying around more than once in the past, and on at least one occasion someone – Snape – had indeed picked it up and used it. But that was in his previous life and she didn't need to know about it.

This at least seemed enough to placate Hermione for the moment. They sat for a few minutes enjoying their butterbeer, but before long a group of four people entered the pub that signaled to Harry that it was time to leave: Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, Hagrid, and Cornelius Fudge. Far beyond the risk of getting caught out of school without permission, Harry remembered exactly what their conversation was going to be about, and had no interest in listening to it again. Nor did he think Ron and Hermione needed to hear it, but that was up to them.

'I'd better head back now,' he said, throwing his invisibility cloak over himself once more. 'I've probably pushed my luck as far as it can go. The entrance to the tunnels is back by the bathrooms, so I'll go that way. You two can finish your Hogsmeade trip; don't worry about me. I'll see what Ginny or Luna or someone is up to.'

The two of them mutter a quick goodbye but he was already on his way back toward the bathrooms. He repeated his apparition trick once in the tunnel, and climbed the rest of the way back up the stairs to the chamber behind the mirror. Remembering to check his newly acquired map for anyone passing by, he slipped out into the corridor and made for Gryffindor Tower. He snuck up to his dormitory invisibly, and then came back down to the common room a few minutes later. Had anyone been keeping tabs on him for whatever reason, they might assume he'd just been taking a nap.

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The trip back to the Burrow was uneventful. Harry shared a compartment with the Weasleys (sans Percy, who was "attending to his Head Boy duties"), Hermione, and Luna. It was slightly cramped, but a lot of fun. He'd long since stopped begrudging himself these chances to indulge in simply being young again. Well, younger. He supposed mid-twenties wasn't exactly "old".

Scabbers spent the entire trip in Ron's pocket (Ron had insisted on sitting on the opposite end of the compartment from Hermione and Crookshanks). Harry couldn't help stealing glances at the rat every now and again. He wondered what Sirius would do regarding this development. Would he follow them to Ottery St. Catchpole, or would he wait at Hogwarts for them to return? On the one hand, it would be a very long and arduous journey to make on foot (as man or dog), and he didn't really know exactly where they were going, as far as Harry knew.

On the other hand, one of Sirius's main concerns was that Wormtail might try to hurt Harry at any moment, so would he risk losing two weeks in his quest for revenge?

It was difficult to say for sure, but however hotheaded Sirius might be, he was not unintelligent. Surely he would realize the impracticality of following them to southwest England and back for a two week holiday. They'd be on their way back to Scotland before he was halfway there.

Christmas at the Burrow was everything he'd come to expect it to be: warm, inviting, joyful, and homey. Having Luna there already felt normal and right, even if it was only the second year running. Harry spend two weeks gorging himself on warm meat pies, freshly baked biscuits, and hot chocolate, all of which was exponentially better after spending hours playing quidditch out in the cold. They would all sit together in the evening by the fire, sometimes playing cards or chess, sometimes not doing much of anything at all. It was an idyllic Chirstmas holiday.

On Christmas morning itself, Harry received a surprise. He had thought that Sirius might not send him a Firebolt, given that his own broom was still in perfect working order. But sure enough, tucked in amongst the rest of his presents was a long, thin package with no note that was completely unaccounted for. For a brief instant Harry worried that Sirius did indeed know where the Burrow was and would try to follow them here, but he quickly remembered that it would have been the delivery owls, not Sirius himself, who knew to bring it here.

He exchanged a glance with Ginny. They hadn't really prepared for this because they had assumed it wouldn't happen. They had discussed the possibility exactly once, for probably less than a minute. Fortunately, this wouldn't be much of a spanner in the works; but it did serve to remind him that things could still go the way they had before even in spite of changes that they had made.

Not knowing what else to do, he unwrapped it. Inside was his old Firebolt – the very same one Sirius had given to him in his original timeline. There was no mistaking it; the registration number was the same. This was his broom. How far in advance had Sirius planned this? Not too far, surely; he had needed Crookshanks's help, after all. How had that even worked, anyway? Could anyone just send a cat with a note into a shop and order a broom?

'Harry, is that...' Ron had noticed. Well, shite. He'd have to do something now.

'I think it is,' he said, rolling the broom out of what was left of the wrapping. The pristine form of the Firebolt immediately drew every eye in the room. Even Percy and Mrs Weasley, neither of whom had much interest in quidditch, couldn't help gaping at it.

'Blimey, Harry!' said Fred. 'Who sent you that?'

'No idea,' Harry lied. He was going to have to keep his sentences small; he was not as good an actor as Ginny, never mind he'd had the last two and a half years to practice.

'Somebody must really like you,' said George.

'Really like you,' Ginny said, and he understood her emphasis. This was Sirius's way of trying to express that when he thought he'd never have any other chance.

'Can I have a go on it, Harry?' Ron asked. 'After you, obviously. Merlin, I can't wait to see that thing in action. A Firebolt!'

'Hold on now, boys,' said Mr Weasley, for Ron and the Twins were already making ot get up and put their cloaks on to go outside. 'We haven't finished in here yet, and there's still the question of who sent Harry that broom.' He was eyeing the Firebolt with concern, though he stopped short of outright suspicion. 'There was no note or card with it, Harry?'

'Nothing,' he said. 'I even double-checked.' He held up the empty wrappings and shook them.

'Could the note have gotten lost in transit?' Percy wondered aloud.

'Maybe you've got a secret admirer, Harry,' said Ron.

'No way Chang could afford a broom like this,' said Fred. 'If she could, she'd be riding one.'

'Yeah, but Ron said "secret",' said George. 'So it couldn't be her anyway.'

'Mr Weasley, do you remember what you wanted to talk to me about the day we all left for school?' said Harry, making eye contact with his future father-in-law. He saw Mr Weasley's eyes widen just slightly, then his face set into a sort of hard determination.

'I do,' he said. 'And I'm glad you're thinking about such possibilities, Harry. I know how exciting this must be, but that doesn't mean we should stop being careful.'

'Huh?' asked Ron, still making quidditch plans with Fred and George. 'What are you talking about?'

'Harry thinks maybe this broom was sent by Sirius Black,' said Ginny bluntly. Everyone in the room froze.

'My goodness!' Mrs Weasley gasped, clutching her chest. 'There's no need to be –'

'Molly, he's right to be cautious,' Mr Weasley cut in. 'It could very well be completely innocent. I hope it is; I'd like to see a Firebolt in action myself. But Black has somehow managed to not only escape from Azkaban, but also to elude capture for six full months now. It's prudent to assume he might be capable of somehow sending a high-end broomstick to Harry through the post.

'So...what? We throw away an international standard broom because a crazy murderer might have sent it?' Fred asked.

'I should think that would go without saying,' said Percy. 'If there's a chance a deranged murderer sent you anything, the wisest thing to do would be to get rid of it.'

'I don't think we need to go that far,' said Mr Weasley. 'All we need to do is ensure that it hasn't been jinxed or cursed in some way.'

'Too bad Bill's not here,' said Ron.

'Truly,' said Mr Weasley. 'But I suspect there are plenty of wizards capable of inspecting it properly.'

'Should I take it to school with me?' Harry suggested. 'The teachers could probably find out if there's anything wrong with it.'

'I've no doubt they could,' said Mr Weasley. 'But there's no need for you to wait that long. I expect you'll be itching to ride it as soon as possible. I can take it in to work with me on Monday and have it checked out. If there's any chance at all it might give them a lead on Black, they'll do a thorough job and won't waste any time. You might even have it back by the time you return to school.'

'Wait, really?' asked Harry, who had genuinely never thought of this.

'Assuming nothing is wrong with it, of course,' said Mr Weasley. 'If it is cursed, I don't know what they'd want to do.'

'That's all right,' said Harry. 'I'd rather have no broom than a cursed one, even if it is a Firebolt.'

Ron and the twins couldn't believe that Harry had so willingly given up his new broomstick right after receiving it. They pestered him about it for the remainder of the holiday.

'Just think, Harry, you could be flying circles around us on a Firebolt right now,' said Fred during a pick up match the day before New Year's Eve.

'Mind, he's practically flying circles around us already anyway,' said George. 'But I'd feel less demoralized if I knew it was because he was riding a Firebolt.'

'You lot sound like Wood,' Ginny scolded them. 'Would you really rather Harry risk his neck just to fly slightly better in a quidditch match we're almost certainly going to win anyway?'

'Of course you'd take his side,' scoffed Ron, rolling his eyes.

'I'm glad somebody is,' said Harry, not harshly. 'Nice to know at least one person around here ranks my life over the quidditch cup.'

'So you think it's cursed then, Ginny?' asked Fred.

'Honestly?' she replied. 'No, I don't. That seems like an awful lot of trouble for someone to go through to kill Harry when it probably wouldn't even work. But why take the chance? You heard Dad; he'll probably have it back before we even go back to school.'

'But a Firebolt...' insisted Ron, trailing off. They did ease up on him over the next couple of days, though. Finally, the day before they were due back in school, Mr Weasley called Harry down out of the sky at lunchtime.

'Good news, Harry,' he said, handing over the Firebolt. 'They've gone over it with every technique they can think of, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. The auror on duty brought it by this morning during the shift change.'

'The auror on duty?' Harry asked. What was this?

'Well, the Ministry wants to make sure you're safe, Harry, in case Black shows up here looking for you,' explained Mr Weasley. 'And they have very kindly agreed not to post dementors around our house.'

'That was nice of them,' said Harry.

'I thought so,' Mr Weasley grinned. 'Why not have a go and see how she flies before we need to start getting ready for the train ride tomorrow?'

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He hopped on the Firebolt and took off into the air. Not since getting his wand back at Ollivander's had he felt anything like this: like he was getting a piece of himself back. He was very fond of his Nimbus, but nothing was a match for the Firebolt.

In the air, he was distracted from his familiar feelings of guilt. He supposed it was obvious that the Burrow would have some protections on it as long as he was there and Sirius was still on the loose and presumed dangerous. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it, and he was fighting with himself not to feel overly bad about inconveniencing the Weasleys yet again. After all, one or two aurors on detail weren't that much of a hindrance to everyday living. Certainly preferable to dementors, which is what the residents of Hogsmeade were still stuck with.

He flew around the garden a few times, and then switched back to his Nimbus so the others could try it out. Everyone, including Percy, wanted to try out the Firebolt. Ginny of course had ridden one before, but it had been a long time and she was just as excited as anyone else.

At dinner that evening Fred and George were already plotting.

'Don't tell anyone on the team, Harry,' Fred said. 'We want to see their faces when you bring it to our first practice of the new term.'

'That does sound fun, but I'm probably going to have to tell Wood; it might change what he has in mind for strategy.'

This may have been true, but he had another reason for wanting to tell Oliver about his new broom, but he dared not speak it aloud yet in case it didn't work out.

The ride back to Hogwarts was as uneventful as the one away from it. Ginny and Harry were pleased to see that Ron and Hermione were getting on fine, outside of Ron giving Crookshanks a dirty look when they entered the train compartment. One of the biggest fights with Hermione from third year had stemmed from his and Ron's feelings of "betrayal" over what they had perceived as ratting them out to Professor McGonagall about Harry's Firebolt. Never mind that it was the sensible and reasonable thing to do. Not for the first time, Harry found himself judging his thirteen year old self rather unfavorably.

Nevertheless, having now sidestepped the entire issue (Harry even let Ron excitedly tell her about the whole thing, including its temporary confiscation by the ministry), both Harry and Ginny were confident that they could make it through to the end of the school year with no major hiccoughs.

They should have learned by this point never to get cocky.

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I had some trouble with this one. It's really more of a "bridge" chapter in that it gets us from important stuff that was going on before to important stuff that's going to happen later on and it would have been weird to have nothing in between. I also suffered what one might charitably refer to as a severe disappointment last Tuesday, so the fact that I'm still able to write anything at all should be considered a plus.