"Headmaster? Dobby said you wanted to see me?"

Dumbledore looked up from a scroll unfurled on his desk and peered at Harry over his half moon glasses. "Ah, yes, Harry. Please," he gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. "Crumpet?"

"Ah, no," Harry sat down as bade and added unnecessarily to the headmaster's offer, "I'm just back from breakfast." Which he hadn't eaten, Harry realized in that moment. He'd been too wrapped up in first telling Hermione his jungle dream, then being forced to deal with Ron the Wonder Prat.

"Very well, then. How was your summer with the Grangers?"

Harry frowned in confusion. He hadn't figured Dumbledore would have him miss the beginning of McGonagall's class to ask about his summer holiday. A summons to the headmaster's office would surely be about something a bit more important than how he rated his summer vacation. But Dumbledore was clearly waiting for an answer. "Umm… well, it was great, actually."

"Delightful to hear. I must say that you look well; it would appear that the Granger residence agrees with you."

"They're very good people." It seemed so little to say for all that the Grangers had done for him, but he wasn't really sure that the full scope of the Grangers' hospitality toward him could be defined in words. It had been beyond anything Harry had ever experienced before.

"So they are."

Harry and Dumbledore stared at each other a moment, Harry perplexed and Dumbledore looking just merry at the chance for a friendly chat, as though they'd gotten together for a spot of tea and light conversation. At some point, it almost became a contest who could hold out longest in this farce.

Harry caved first.

"Umm… Headmaster? Was there a reason you asked me here?"

"Yes, in fact there was." He turned his eyes to his desk and picked up a pocket-sized scroll that most likely had been sent by owl post. He handed it to Harry, who accepted it with a querulous look toward his headmaster. "I needed you to read this in a safe place," Dumbledore said softly.

Harry looked down at the note and his eyes widened. He recognized his godfather's handwriting at once. Instantly, his attention on the note was rapt.

'Harry,

'I'm sorry I have not had the chance to contact you this summer, and I am terribly sorry that I missed your birthday. I know I've missed too many to expect forgiveness for yet another, but I hope you'll understand once Headmaster Dumbledore explains everything to you.

'I can't say much right now, I just wanted you to know I am safe and well… for now. See that you stay that way, too.

'Love,

'Sirius'

Harry read the note twice, but that was all there was. No further explanation to be gleaned from the letter's content, no indication what this 'explanation' from Dumbledore might entail. He finally looked up at the headmaster in question.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and the note in Harry's hand suddenly burst into flame. Harry flinched back and the black cinders fell to the floor.

"And now…" Dumbledore cast a silencio and barred his office door with two expert flicks of his wand, "that explanation due you.

"While you were hidden away at the Grangers and I was here safe-guarding any access to the school records that might lead an enemy to your location, I got in contact with you godfather. Naturally, when he learned of Voldemort's return, your involvement in it, and the dark wizard's continuing morbid interest in you, he was eager to do whatever possible to help protect you.

"Since June he has been on a fact-gathering mission trying to discover the location of Voldemort and his followers. My brother, Aberforth, is working with him."

Harry gaped at Dumbledore. To hear nothing from his godfather, and then suddenly learn he was hunting down Voldemort? Shocked was an understatement to describe Harry's reaction to that news.

"Anything they find out I pass on to the ministry to assist their efforts to combat Voldemort, though of course I don't mention Sirius being present, only my brother. Still a bit of a sticky situation with trying to clear Sirius's name, but at this time a secondary concern. Sirius agrees."

"How…" Harry didn't even know where to begin. "Sirius and your brother?"

"An odd pairing for fact-finding partners?"

Harry nodded. Good a question as any.

"Yes, I guess it would seem so. But you see, not so odd, as Aberforth and Sirius have one striking similarity that serves them exceedingly well in this venture. They are both animagi."

Harry sat up straighter. "Your brother's an animagus?"

Dumbledore nodded, sat back in his chair, and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. "When we were young, in our sixth year at Hogwarts, Aberforth and I decided we had yet to tackle one magical hurdle in our education, sanctioned or not. The animagus spell. So we took it upon ourselves to tackle it. I'd blame the fact our mother had been gone quite some time and that Aber and I were practically raised by a house elf that we'd do something so disapproved of by the ministry with little regard for the legal breach it constituted, but that would be unfair to Kimmy. She did help us, was with us every step of the way as we struggled to learn the process toward our first transformation, but she is certainly not at fault and I'd never implicate her as guilty to our mischief. Aberforth and I were headstrong and determined. It took us two years to manage, but ever since Aberforth has had the ability to turn into a golden eagle."

"And did you..."

Dumbledore's eyes refocused and he smiled, but a bit crookedly as though at a tacky joke. "Yes, I too managed the transformation. Had the misfortune to be a pygmy goat, I'm afraid. The first time I brought up my cud really soured me to the animagus experience and I've not done it since. Aberforth, on the other hoof, has enjoyed many flights in his bird of prey form. He was actually the one to deliver Sirius's note to me." Dumbledore paused a moment to give Harry time to let it all sink it. "It is as Shylock that Aberforth is working with Sirius to track down Voldemort, using their animal guises to go places regular wizards could not go without being spotted."

"Shylock?" Harry asked dumbly.

"Aberforth's animagus name."

"Oh." Harry felt slightly numb as he took in all he'd just been told.

Dumbledore sat forward again and leveled a long look at Harry. "I was not convinced that telling you what Sirius was up to was in your best interests. I believed you had enough to worry about without adding your questing godfather to that dour list, but he was insistent that he be allowed to tell you he was well and doing all in his power to help you."

On that Harry was very steadfast in his certainty. "I want to know what Sirius is doing. Thank you for telling me."

Dumbledore nodded and grew very serious. "I realize you've been through a great deal, Harry. Far more than anyone else your age. With that experience comes a maturity beyond your chronological years, and I have truly made an effort to treat you as the age you reflect rather than the age you are. You deserve as much for what you've had to endure, and so far you've proven up to the task of handling that greater responsibility. Primarily for that reason, I trusted you'd be able to rationally handle news of your godfather's activities… and acknowledged that Sirius just might know you better than I do."

It was odd to think of someone knowing more than Dumbledore about anything, even if it was on the subject of Harry himself. But Sirius was right, Harry had to know. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. I did worry that I hadn't heard from him in so long, and I wanted to send him an owl this summer, but I wasn't sure it would be safe… well, Hermione was sure it wouldn't be."

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Sirius was convinced you were wise enough to hear the truth and not do anything overly rash; in the end, I was certain you'd be wise enough to listen to Miss Granger should you find yourself unsure."

"I'd have to be touched in the head not to listen to the smartest witch at Hogwarts."

"So it is that great men and women need even greater counsel."

It sounded suspiciously like an implied assent. "Does that mean I can tell Hermione what you told me? About Sirius going after Voldemort?"

"I honestly did not expect you to keep it a secret from her to begin with. But be cautious, Harry. While I would like to think Hogwarts is without its dark sides, we can't be absolutely certain that something seen or heard in the halls or common rooms wouldn't be communicated to Voldemort. It would be disastrous and quite likely fatal for your godfather's animagus form and his current endeavor to be leaked to the enemy."

"I understand," Harry replied gravely.

Dumbledore glanced at the clock on his wall, the face swirling into view from an otherwise moonlit sky just when the old wizard had need to know the time. "You best hurry to Transfiguration then, Harry. Professor McGonagall will not take kindly to you missing too much of her class, and in that there's only so much even I can do to stay her displeasure." As he said the last, there was a humorous twinkle in the headmaster's eye.

Harry stood. "Of course. And thank you again, sir." Harry turned and made for the door. All of the nettling concerns that had pressed at him when he entered Dumbledore's office, petty quibbles with Ron and insignificant dreams of harmless jungles, were practically forgotten when he left.

❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾❾¾ ❾¾❾¾

Hermione was finding it abnormally difficult to concentrate on Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration. She made the effort, tried to focus so hard that her jaw hurt from clenching so tight, but it seemed to be of little use. Her notebook before her was disturbingly sparse of her handwriting and she was flicking the feather-end of her quill against the desktop. She just couldn't get interested in turning a book into a pixie. She was more concerned with the two empty stools of either side of her. Harry had been summoned to Dumbledore's office, and Ron had not even spared her a glance when the Gryffindors filed into McGonagall's classroom. He veered from the trio's usual spot in the back of the class and instead sat down with Dean and Seamus. Hermione looked at the back of his head and frowned. What Ginny had said was bugging her. Of course, Ron had it completely wrong to think she and Harry were a couple, but if that was the misconception he was erroneously belaboring under, then was it partly her fault that Ron was acting so wretched toward her and Harry? Had she done something to encourage it? Nothing conscious or intentional, but she had to admit that after spending the entire summer together she and Harry were closer. She'd come to truly treasure that newfound closeness to Harry. She didn't like the idea that she ought to feel guilty about it. She and Harry were very close friends, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Ron shouldn't begrudge them companionship.

She was debating whether or not she should try talking to Ron when Harry slipped into class and took a seat on the stool to her right. The issue of Ron's misunderstanding took a backseat as she glanced over at Harry and saw a very… significant look on his face. He had something to tell her, she could read it in his expression. He met her eyes, gave a short shake of his head, then turned his attention to the front of the class. For a second his gaze stopped on Ron sitting with Seamus and Dean and he frowned in mixed anger and confusion, then he was doing his best to listen to McGonagall.

Hermione redoubled her efforts to pay attention to the teacher, a task which usually came second nature to her, but today it felt like replanting mandrakes.

Transfiguration seemed to last an interminably long amount of time before McGonagall dismissed the class. The students stood and gathered their things to make for their next class. Idle chatter picked up as classmates began to converse. Hermione stuffed her book and notes into her bag and glanced toward Ron. He was talking with Seamus and Dean, but at that particular moment he glanced toward Hermione and the expression on his face was both wounded and indignant at once. Hermione wanted to march up to him right then and sort everything out, because this was just stupid, even on the Ron Weasley scale of dumb.

Then Harry was in her personal space, standing over her, leaning down close and whispering, "Mione," in her ear. Hermione saw Ron's ears turn red as he watched from across the room.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Harry to find his face only an inch from hers… he'd not backed off from bending close to whisper to her. She blinked and for an instant her heart fluttered at his proximity, the way his breath warmed her neck and stirred her hair, the way she could breathe in and smell Harry, that scent uniquely his that had become so indelibly familiar. She blinked again to get a hold of herself. "Yes?"

"We need to talk," Harry said, and without further explanation reached down and took her hand.

Hermione didn't bother to spare a glance toward Ron as she stood and followed Harry out of the Transfiguration room, his hand linked with hers. She gathered he was taking her somewhere where they could talk. And just as well. Harry needed to hear about Ron's brainless assumption that was giving all of them so much grief. Maybe Harry could talk to Ron; they were both guys, it might sound better or perhaps more convincing coming from him.

Harry led Hermione out into the hall, paused to look around, then he ducked toward a wall with her in tow. Harry opened the door to a broom closet, glanced quickly around to see if anyone was watching, then herded Hermione inside with a hand on her side. Hermione squeezed in and turned to Harry, now doubly curious what could be so important and private that only a broom closet would do.

Harry squeezed inside with her and shut the door behind him, blanketing the room in pitch blackness but for the tiny strip of light where the bottom of the door didn't quite meet the floor. Hermione dug out her wand, cast a silencio, then cast lumos. Harry's face flickered into view, cast in engulfing shadows and lighted by the bluish white light of the lumos spell emitting from the tip of Hermione's wand. Harry squinted from the bright point of light. She lowered her wand to stomach-level so it wasn't glaring in their faces.

Hermione wasn't even thinking about Ron just then. "What did Dumbledore want to see you about?"

"About Sirius. He's out hunting Voldemort."

Hermione gasped.

"Did you know Dumbledore is an animagus?" Harry asked.

Hermione adjusted to the change in topic with deft ease. "Yes. Before I brought up the idea of us trying to become animagi this summer I did a fair bit of research on the topic. That's when I learned about Dumbledore. He's registered with the ministry. He's listed as non-practicing, though… hasn't been an active animagus for over seventy years. When a witch or wizard is capable of becoming an animagus but hasn't for a long period of time, so long it might as well be assumed they never intend to transform again, the ministry reclassifies them so the Animagus Registry will reflect only currently practicing animagi."

Harry stopped to regard Hermione a moment. "You don't seem at all surprised that Dumbledore's an animagus."

"I'm not. A wizard as powerful as Dumbledore… I'm not certain I'd consider anything beyond his abilities."

Harry had to concede that fact. "I guess so. When you were looking into the Animagus Registry, did you learn that Aberforth Dumbledore is an animagus too?"

Hermione nodded then frowned. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I found out; I honestly didn't think you'd be all that interested."

Harry smirked. "Well, you're right, normally I wouldn't be, but Dumbledore called me into his office just now to tell me that Sirius and Aberforth are working together, using their animal forms, to try and find Voldemort."

"Goodness…" Hermione murmured in muted shock. "Should Sirius be out looking for trouble? I mean, he's still on the outs with the ministry; they still think he's a guilty man."

Harry shrugged. "I know, but he found out about what happened end of term last year, with Voldemort and Cedric in the graveyard, and he insisted on doing something to try and keep me safe." Harry's expression turned drawn and concerned.

Hermione stepped closer and touched his arm with her free hand. "I'm sure he'll be fine, Harry. Sirius is a clever wizard, he had to be to escape Azkaban, and if he has a Dumbledore with him… I can't expect there's anyone better to have as an ally. If Aberforth's even half as powerful as his brother, and you know, magical ability like that often runs in families, so I'll bet his is, then we needn't be too worried for Sirius's sake. I imagine the pair of them can handle anything that crops up."

"I know, I just… I'm tired of people I care about being in danger because of me."

Hermione slid her hand down his arm until she took his hand in hers. She gave his fingers a squeeze. "We put ourselves on the line for you because you're worth it, Harry."

Harry sighed. He looked far from bolstered by Hermione's statement, if anything, he looked a little pale. But maybe that was the light of the lumos.

Then he squeezed her hand in return and said, "We should go before we're late to our next class." He didn't want to talk about it, obviously, and she wasn't going to push him.

Hermione nodded agreement, extinguished her lumos, disspelled the silencio, then pressed close to Harry in the total darkness as he moved to the door knob. They slipped back out into the corridor of students hurrying to class, Hermione's hand firmly held in Harry's. Fred and George were loitering not far from the broom closet, near enough to see the two fifth years make their exit. Fred raised the call. "Oiy! Way to go, Harry!" A few cat calls and whistles followed on the heels of Fred's attention-grabbing salutation. It didn't take a genius to know what everyone figured she and Harry had been doing in the broom closet between classes. Hermione blushed furiously, but Harry's hold on her hand did not waver and Hermione drew courage from it. If Harry wasn't going to shy then neither would she. She hurried to walk more closely at Harry's side, their fingers still firmly entangled, and they plowed through the giggles and teasing without acknowledging a single one of them.

Only briefly did Hermione pause to wonder if Ron was anywhere nearby, and if he'd seen. Even if he hadn't seen them, he'd no doubt hear about Harry and Hermione's presumed mid-day broom closet snog-fest through the rumor mill before the day's end.

She was not going to worry about it. With Harry's godfather in harm's way, hunting down the most powerful dark wizard in history in order to safeguard Harry, Ron's little sophomoric tantrums were inconsequential.