It had been a good summer, Harry reflected as he sat across from his godfather at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. True, he, Sirius, Luna, and her father had had little luck tracking the Blibbering Humdinger in Zaire and true that he had been forced to speak French for nearly six weeks (this was, naturally, the worst thing that had happened to him in recent memory, though Sirius was unsympathetic told him he was just being dramatic) but he had had fun anyway. His and Sirius's month in Egypt – after the Weasley's had, in fact, won the 700 Galleon Draw – had been even more amusing, although Percy had joined Ginny in the 'Not Speaking to Harry' department after Harry had distracted Mrs. Weasley while Fred and George had locked him in a pyramid. He didn't see what the big deal was, anyway. Percy was only in there for three hours and had confessed afterwards that he had learned quite a bit that he wouldn't otherwise have an opportunity to because he was unsupervised. Apparently while the new Head Boy had come to expect behavior like that from the twins he had 'expected better' of Harry.
"Do you think they're done with their school supply shopping yet?" Harry asked. "I'm bored."
Sirius, who had been thoughtfully eyeing a group of rather pretty witches, blinked and looked over at him. "You're the one who hired Dobby to do yours for you," he reminded him.
"Well, yeah, but it didn't occur to me that I'd be stuck waiting here for everyone else to finish theirs," Harry complained.
"Yes, who would have thought that Hermione would freak out that you were paying Dobby below minimum wage – and yes, I know he insisted on it," Sirius held up a hand to forestall Harry's protest, "Ron would get insulted that you were rubbing it in his face that you're so rich you won't even do your own shopping, Ginny still wouldn't be speaking to you, and Luna and Neville would be off to prove that Wrackspurts have infested Ollivander's."
"It's a conspiracy, I tell you," Harry said forlornly.
"You've still got me," Sirius said brightly.
Harry didn't respond.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Well you could have tagged along with them anyway," he pointed out.
"That would totally defeat the purpose of me paying Dobby to do it for me," Harry said, sounding shocked. "I wonder why Draco always insists on doing his own shopping."
"House Elves have notoriously poor color scheme," Draco replied, the shop door slamming shut behind him.
"Pinch me, I must be dreaming," Harry said to Sirius, who immediately did so. "Draco Malfoy has remembered that I exist."
Draco crossed his arms irritably. "I never forgot."
"Then why didn't you reply to any of the 37 letters I've sent you this summer?" Harry demanded.
"Other than the fact that most of the were full of meaningless drivel about people I don't care about?" Draco asked. At Harry's nod, he continued, "Once my father found out about that stupid rumor you started – and we all know you did so don't bother denying it – he and my mother have been fighting and so they forbid me from having anything to do with you. And also because they think you're new guardian might be a bad influence."
"Like they're one to talk…" Sirius grumbled. "And you're having something to do with him right now."
Draco grinned. Harry was sure that as a result somewhere a puppy just died. "I'm officially a teenager. I've got to get that rebellion in somehow, don't I? Anyway, my mother's just finishing up with Madam Malkin, so I've got to go. Be seeing you, Harry."
"Uh, bye…" Harry replied distractedly. He turned to Sirius. "That was weird."
"Indeed it was," Sirius agreed. "Me? A bad influence? Some people…"
"Well, you are a recently pardoned fugitive who spent who knows how many years in Azkaban," Harry pointed out tactfully.
"My record was expunged," Sirius countered. "That means that legally, it never happened and I've decided to refuse to acknowledge that it did. Besides, Lucius is a Death Eater."
"He was cleared of all charges, so legally he isn't," Harry pointed out.
Sirius snorted at that. "Speaking of Death Eaters, how do we stand on the Diary front?"
Harry frowned, confused for a moment until he realized that by 'Diary' Sirius meant 'Horcrux' and that he was – for once – mindful that there were other people around him that could potentially be eavesdropping on them. "Well, we've stabbed the diary, burned the cup, locket, and diadem, the snake probably isn't one yet and we can take care of her later if she is one, I'm still one, so that just leaves…the ring."
"Where's the ring?" Sirius asked. "Can we take care of that today? You're going back to school tomorrow and that severely restricts your movements."
"That's true," Harry agreed slowly. "If I'm going, it'll have to be today. Does now work for you?"
Sirius discreetly glanced at his watch. "Alright. We need to hurry, though. I have a meeting with Dumbledore in twenty minutes."
"Oh really?" Harry asked as they got up to leave. "Why's that?"
"If it works, you'll find out. If it doesn't, I'm not going to tell you," Sirius told him primly. "Now where did you say we were going?"
"Little Hangington…Now, wait, Little Hangleton," Harry corrected himself.
"Are you sure you know where we're going?" Sirius asked suspiciously.
"Of course! I just haven't been there in…let's see…eleven years. I think. And I never actually did go to the Gaunt Shack. Actually, I don't think I can give good enough instructions. I'll just have to Apparate us both," Harry decided. "That'll probably work better anyway because I'm technically too young to Apparate so we can pretend you're the one doing it."
Sirius looked distinctly unhappy but he did as Harry requested. Harry closed his eyes and did his best to recall the graveyard he'd been transported to at the end of his Fourth Year, where Cedric had…
Harry felt a familiar yet unpleasant sensation around his navel and he opened his eyes. He was standing in the graveyard.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Sirius said, looking around. "Can you BE any more of an Emo teenager?"
"It's not my fault!" Harry protested. "Voldemort was the one with the overdeveloped sense of melodrama; I was just kidnapped and forced to be here!" He paused. "Sirius, you fell through the Veil in 1996. How do you even know the term 'Emo'?"
"I'm a fan of the music," Sirius said delicately. "Hey, can I borrow your Time Turner?"
"What makes you think I have a Time Turner?" Harry asked neutrally.
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.
"Okay, fine, I totally have one. What do you need it for?"
"Don't you trust me?" Sirius asked, looking wounded.
"No, not even slightly," Harry replied.
"PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE."
"Give me a reason," Harry instructed.
"I'll buy you a Firebolt."
Harry removed the Time Turner from around his neck. "Deal."
"Thanks," Sirius said, slipping it around his own neck. "Say, didn't you say Voldemort resurrected himself using his dad's bones?"
"Yeah…" Harry said, wondering where this was going.
"Since we have nearly two years until Voldemort will try to revive himself-" Sirius began.
"If history doesn't change that much, which, given our rather lackadaisical attitude towards things, isn't exactly a guarantee," Harry interjected.
Sirius nodded. "Right. If things still happen the way they should, we could destroy Riddle's bones and the ritual wouldn't work."
Harry thought about it. On the one hand, Voldemort not having a body would be a very good thing indeed. On the other… "We can't do that; if he doesn't do the ritual then he won't use my blood, anchoring my soul to this world so I can die and come back, therefore there's no way for me to get rid of my Horcrux without me dying. And staying dead."
"Can we at least switch his father's bones with someone else's then? Maybe a more distant relative? That way it should still work but maybe not as well so it could weaken him," Sirius suggested.
"Good idea," Harry said. "You do that while I go look for the Shack. Once you're done, just Apparate over to me."
"Sounds good," Sirius agreed, already moving among the graves, searching for someone to replace Tom Riddle Senior's earthly remains with.
- -
Ten minutes later Harry had successfully managed to not only locate the location of the Gaunt Shack, but also the location of the Ring and he heard a loud crack outside indicating that Sirius had arrived.
"Did you find it?" Sirius asked. "And is that the skeleton of a snake nailed to the door?"
"Of course," answered Harry, pointing. "To both of them. I'm having trouble with one of the wards, though."
"Let me see," Sirius waved his wand over the point Harry had gestured to. "Ah, I know how to deal with that." He muttered a spell under his breath. "There." He reached down and picked up the ring. "So this is the final Horcrux. Well, except for you, of course."
"Don't put it on," Harry warned. "Dumbledore did and it almost killed him. As it was, he only had a year left before he would have died from it, if Snape hadn't sped the process up."
"Uh-huh," Sirius said, clearly not listening and moving the ring closer to his finger, as if in a trance.
"Sirius, if you put that on then Snape will have to save your life. SNAPE. Do you really want to give him something like that to hold over your head forever? I can see it now: 'You tried to kill me when we were sixteen, Black, and I saved your life seventeen years later. It just goes to show that-'"
"I get it; I get it!" Sirius exclaimed, hastily dropping the Ring.
"That's better. Now what do you say we get out of here and just torch the place?" Harry suggested.
"Works for me. All the Dark Magical residue…it feels like I never left home…"
With that, Harry and Sirius left the shack and Sirius cast Fiendfyre, ridding the world of one more piece of Tom Riddle Jr.'s soul and one incredibly ugly house.
- -
Sirius Apparated Harry back to Diagon Alley then quickly ran off to his mysterious meeting with Dumbledore that he refused to explain about. Strangely, for all his earlier insistence before that he needed to be on time, he didn't seem to care that he ended up being fifteen minutes late.
"Harry!" Hermione greeted him, thrusting a huge bundle of orange fur into his arms. Ron and Neville came up behind her.
"Crookshanks?" Harry ventured.
Hermione gaped at him. "But…I only just decided…how did you do that?"
"I told you, my scar is studying Divination," Harry replied smugly.
"Oh honestly, just because you're right about a few innocuous things you think you're the next coming of Cassandra or something," Hermione huffed.
"He was right about my dad and the Ministry Galleon Draw, too," Ron reminded her.
"And pretty much everything else he's ever said would happen has happened," Neville added. "He's either psychic or one hell of a conman."
"I don't see how you could POSSIBLY dispute the fact that I know the future," Harry said, secure in the knowledge that he did know at least one future, even if he was doing his best to change it for no other reason than sheer boredom and possibly to save a few lives. If he had time.
"You're not really taking Divination, are you?" Hermione asked, completely ignoring her friends' ribbing.
"Yep," Harry confirmed cheerfully. "And Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures."
"…Why?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Why not? You are, after all," Harry pointed out.
"I'm also taking such practical classes as Arithmancy and Ancient Runes," Hermione shot back.
"Arithmancy, I'll give you, but I refuse to believe that Ancient Runes could possibly be practical," Harry said stubbornly. "And I don't want to take either of them because Divination and Muggle Studies will be so much easier."
"What about Care of Magical Creatures?" Ron asked. "Charlie took that and he said that it involves some real work."
"I know," Harry agreed, sounding rather put out. "But I have to support Hagrid, don't I?"
"Hagrid?" Neville asked shrewdly. "Is he our teacher, then? Since his name was cleared last year – sort of – when you told everybody about Voldemort opening the Chamber fifty years ago?"
Ron flinched. "Bloody hell; not you too! Doesn't anybody have a healthy fear of the most terrifying wizard in living memory anymore?"
Harry was pleased to note that Ron was no longer calling Riddle the most terrifying wizard ever as he and Hermione had finally managed to convince him that there was no objective way to judge something like that.
Neville shrugged. "My Gran says not calling him by the proper appellation is an insult to my parent's memories," he said quietly.
"Of course he's our teacher," Harry said, quickly changing the subject. "Who else would assign us a biting book?"
"It's a good thing the manager told us how to calm them," Hermione said. "I can't imagine what I'd do if I had to figure it out by myself."
"Easiest twenty galleons I ever made…" Harry grinned.
"You told the manager to stroke the spines?" Ron asked, surprised.
"Yep. He was already fed up with them just from trying to store them and so he was more than happy to hand it over," Harry smiled.
The four of them sat talking for another half an hour or so before Harry said innocently, "So Ron, you and Crookshanks sure seem to be getting along. Are you a closet cat person?"
"Maybe not closeted but recently discovered," Ron replied. "After all, cats eat rats."
"So they do," Harry laughed. His vision was then blocked by a large broomstick-shaped package. "Um…what?"
"It cost nearly all of my reparation money, but I got you your damn broomstick," Sirius said, moving into Harry's line of sight. "Now stop guilt-tripping me about my lack of presence during your formative years and all the Christmas', Birthdays', Halloweens', Easters', ect. that I missed and the corresponding gifts that I owe you."
"You guilt-tripped him about missing significant life events while he was in Azkaban?" Hermione asked, horrified.
"Hey," Harry said defensively. "It's not like he doesn't do the same thing! It's always 'You know, James would have done it' or 'Sometimes, Harry, I just get nostalgic and wish James were here.'" Hermione just continued to stare so Harry moved on. "So, how'd your mysterious meeting with the Headmaster go?"
Sirius grinned broadly. "Excellent. In fact, you're looking at Hogwarts's newest professor."
Harry shot him a look. "You're going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? But what about Remus?"
Sirius looked shocked. "Harry! I would never deprive Moony of his chance to act all responsible and put his years of tutoring to waste! He's still going to be teaching DADA."
"So what are you teaching?" Neville asked.
"History of Magic," Sirius replied happily.
"What about Professor Binns?" Hermione asked. "I hadn't thought he was looking to retire. Plus, he's got tenure so it's not like they can really fire him because he's boring."
Sirius looked mildly uncomfortable. "Well, during my interview, McGonagall came in and informed us that Binns had been mysteriously exorcised a little while ago. Imagine, while we were sitting here eating ice cream, poor Binns was ascending to a higher plane…"
Harry suddenly knew what Sirius had wanted his Time Turner for. "Imagine that." Suddenly, a thought struck him. "Wait…so we're going to have two Marauders as teachers? That is so awesome."
Sirius grinned evilly. "And old Snivelly will never know what hit him…"