The Veiled Vestiges

Disclaimer – This is a work of purely speculative fiction. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of any series mentioned here. The characters involved are the intellectual property of their respective authors/creators except for the ones that are listed as an OC, which are mine.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was a quarter before midnight when an almost inaudible pop interrupted the nightly melodies of the benumbed nocturnal creatures, signalling the arrival of a sweat-soaked Harry at the Kent Cottage House. He was quite visibly tired as he swayed on his feet as he balanced the rough-looking rucksack on his small shoulders. The last trip had taken a lot out of him. The level of control required to manipulate David so thoroughly had taken its toll on his mind and with that, his body had followed. His borrowed wand had delivered on its end as well but it was obvious to him that the focus medium was on its last legs, at least for him, considering how unusually hot it had gotten when he had ended the spell on David.

More still, the jaunt had turned out to be a hell of a lot riskier than he had imagined. A tiny little slip-up on his part, that had, in fact, happened, had the capacity to derail most of his already wobbly plans. For all he knew, It still could. He wasn't so sure he was in the clear. There was a very real possibility of someone coming across the runestones that he had left behind in his hurry to get away from the seashore. It was a small mercy that the magic in the stones would not have lasted more than an hour. A scenario where the Aurors led by Robards, had been able to apparate in but not out, would have been disastrous, to say the least. It could not be denied that Robards was less than vigilant when it came to matters such as these but even he would have been hard-pressed to not notice his own squad not being able to disapparate. Now, all he could wish for was for the stones to have either been washed away by the tide or for them to have stopped pulsating. A clear case could be made for either of the scenarios.

He shifted his pack one more time to bring it around onto the table that lined the wall of the front porch as he plonked himself on the stairs. He took a look inside the rucksack and a worried frown touched his lips. It had been a last-minute find. He hadn't been planned on committing any more crimes when he had come across the muggle medical supplies store. A memory had broken loose though and the realisation about the means of recovery for any ailment not being so restrictive anymore had come through (now that he was not living the waking nightmare that had been the last few years of his life). With his talents, it wasn't nearly as difficult to do a quick smash-n-grab (without the actual smash) and he had, in his possession, the means to bring some risky rejuvenation into the life of his still comatose godfather. Risky, because it did come with its fair share of problems.

Lessons on battlefield-medicine with his muggleborn companions had been as interesting as they had been deadly. As most of them had not left touch with their muggle roots, they had known of the advancements that had been achieved in the field of muggle-medicine. He himself had found out the hard way that while the essence of dittany did, in fact, pour muscle and flesh as it stiched the sinew back together, it did not, in fact, work well together with the pain relief potions. The feeling of his skin and muscle being ripped apart and stitching back together had been something that he was hoping not to ever feel again, as foolish as the hope might be. Even then, there was a time when they all had acclimated themselves to the pain knowing of no other workaround.

Well…most everyone had.

Justin Finch-Fletchley had been a wizard among wizards when it came to the tricky art relating to the composition of chemical compounds. And the resistance had made use of his talents immensely when they had seen what the seemingly clear liquids could do in Justin's little phials. One of the tasks Justin had been assigned apart from figuring out the mechanics of building a muggle bomb and other chemically-operable doodahs was the identification of muggle drugs that worked best together with whatever limited medicare potions they had left available. He had risen to the occasion and had delivered expertly. More so, he had collected those he knew, had a background with the muggle world and had given quite a few lessons on his craft.

One of the lessons Harry remembered learning was the usage of emergency Intravenous drug solutions for the wounded. As a rule, the bodies of magicals had a tendency to use the latent magical charge present within the body as a healing mechanism. There could be no doubt that it was helpful, vital even, but ofttimes it was not enough to keep the life from leaving the body if the injuries were severe enough. Also, it did not bring out the witch or wizard concerned with the jolt that was required for them to get back out into the field and fight for their lives. It had been the reason for more of their casualties than the injuries that put them in the infirmary in the first place.

The resistance did find a solution though.

The muscle booster(MB-COD). A combination of amino acids that affected the part of the brain that released growth hormones. By naturally encouraging the release of HGH, the body responded with several hormonal processes being corrected to put the body into natural fat and muscle building mode. While existing muscle was protected, new muscle cells were constructed to increase its mass. It kept the long-term wounded from atrophying their muscles. That was all theoretical though. It was Justin's able attempt to explain away the catacombs that were the workings of the chemical composition of the compounds involved. More importantly, it was the function of the drugs on muggle physiology. On magicals however, a remarkable difference was observed. Where the compound was supposed to trick the brain into releasing the necessary growth hormones, it reacted quite differently to a magical being's physiology. A well-calculated dose increased the levels of cell generation in the affected area by a little more than a hundred and twenty per cent. He had never seen her as excited as she was when Justin had proved his theory regarding the drug. A smile on her face had been a rare gem those days. The creating of COD was a revolutionary find that had kept their hearts from sinking during the warring times. But not all was, as it seemed to be.

Turned out, there was a legitimate reason why witches and wizards never used the muggle medicines on themselves apart from the bigotry that ran rampant. And their hubris did take its remittance. They had been so entangled with the discovery that they had failed to realise that some magical somewhere, might have worked on similar if not the exact same premise. There were many talented medi-witches and wizards in the British isles let alone the whole world.

The usual way a muggle medicine worked was by injecting it in the bloodstream as it travelled towards the affected area. Considering that there was a high concentration of magic present within the blood of every magical, it became a very delicate balance. A little difference in the calculated dose and it had the capacity of creating a buildup of saturated magic within the body by bloating the blood, which could either end up with the patient being blown up or an incursion from an unknown infection that increased the blood toxicity to uncontrollable levels, the results of which were luridly nightmarish.

It was this fear, that had stayed their hand when treating their wounded with this cocktail of death. It was unanimously decided upon, to use the COD in the most dire of circumstances. A situation that had, in fact, come to pass when the Creevey brothers were brought into the camp with half their bodies torn to shreds, courtesy of the savage mongrel, Fenrir Greyback. The compound had seemed to work for a while before the brothers had started seizing.s They had lost two of their brethren to the torturous deaths of the agony of the affliction, that night. Their screams had seemingly echoed in the cavernous camp for hours after their passing. The visage of their bodies was so feared that even the gruesome death by an over-extended Cruciatus had been welcomed by even the most greenest of their recruits. While they did have more than a few marks in the success column for when the application of COD had worked, it was never established what the difference between the cases had been.

Harry eyed the bag warily as the images of the past flashed through his mind. He had everything he needed for the creation of COD in the rucksack.

The question was, could he subject his godfather to the possibility of an agonising death?

Did he have the option to wait for years before Sirius was recovered enough?

Could he let the life of one man, even his own family, turn him from his path?

A familiar irritation grew within him as he pondered over his options. The meddler and his cronies had ruined everything quite spectacularly. Again. The fuckers had no chance against the monster he was up against and even then, they kept barricading the pathways for those who did, in fact, know how to get the job done. He would get the old goat for this latest stunt. He had very specific goals in mind when he had made his mad attempt to re-write the past. While he had etched in his skin and bones to save the world, there was something to be said about what he considered his world. Had he been some wet behind his ears greenie Auror with a grandiose image of the wizarding world, he would have attempted and sacrificed much for the goal of saving every single person he could. He would have shed blood and tears till he could not give anymore, to achieve even the most unachievable plans. Fortunately, he had learned his lesson well. And as it was, he was a veteran. A war-torn soul who had lost anything and everything he had ever cared for. His world consisted of a very specific number of people. People whom, he had every intention of keeping alive from the oncoming shit storm that was about to unfold. So, when a meddling old codger decided to throw a wrench in his plans, there was only one way to go.

Through.

Belief and intent. They had worked for him this far, they had no right to fail him now.

With a shaky breath, he stood up and walked inside the cabin. He had a mass-murderer to revive.

-x-x-x-x-x-

A raspy breath left his mouth as he came to the land of consciousness. A second passed and a dizzying sensation erupted and nausea set in. A fit of cough and watery eyes was all he got for trying to get up from the surprisingly warm and soft bedding he had had in a very long time. His head moved towards his arms to see some sort of pipe attached to them and a liquid moving to and fro from one end to the other. Odd, really. He had experienced many dreams before, dreams of his failures, dreams of times spent with his best friends, dreams of happy times(little as they were), dreams that haunted him with every single bad happening of his life. Some bizarre dreams had snuck past his psyche as well. But what he had never dreamt before was being connected to a vertical pole that sent strangely warm liquid through his veins that made him feel better than he had felt in all the years since he had been thrown in the hell-hole.

He could feel his mind getting clearer and cleared when the heaviness set in. A very pleasant feeling that soothed all that ailed him. For a second he was sure he could see a beautiful woman in a sexy nurse costume smiling at him as she ate a rat. And suddenly the idea of a nap had never seemed better.

The second time he awoke was in the middle of the night, or so he thought, considering there wasn't a shred of light streaming into this weird place someone had decided put him in. For surely, it wasn't his cell, that much he knew for certain. That place had been mouldy and had had a stench of death and worse embedded within the walls. Whereas, this place was warm and comforting. It didn't steal his thoughts away as soon as he remembered some of the pleasant times he had in his life. Maybe he should find where he was. It shouldn't be too hard getting up. He was feeling much better now anyway. As soon as he made an effort to that end, another bout of heaviness crept in. Maybe a lie-in would be better. The place wasn't going anywhere. At least he hoped not.

-x-x-x-x-x-

While his godfather was enjoying his delirious dreams, Harry was on another one of his outings. He was standing on the edge of a valley that overlooked a children's parks a few feet ahead watching them play around with side smiles on their faces as they greeted each other with welcomed ease. While the sight had been something he had missed sorely, it was not the reason for his presence in a seemingly ordinary park in Heathgate. It was a temptation he hadn't been able to overcome. The surge had travelled through his body with a mountainous force that had overpowered his senses.

He had to see her.

He had known her for twenty years of his life. Loved her for more than half of it. And mourned her for every waking moment ever since the world had taken her from him. Ever since his jaunt back in time, there had been a continuous struggle within him to get to her, to see her. He had fought it viciously every time. For everything he was doing was for her and their family. For her to be safe, for her to be by his side, he would do everything he could and more.

But he had lost the fight today. The pain had become unbearable. The sudden desire had been unflinching in its ferocity and he had surrendered.

A cry from a vendor nearby broke his thoughts and he walked towards the park. He knew she would be here. Watching. Always watching. Learning. A soul different than her peers. A brainy little wise woman in the body of a child. A chuckle escaped him as he remembered her face when he had first laid eyes on her. A nervous arrogance in her gaze, intelligent eyes thirsting to prove herself in a society that considered her insignificant. She was brilliant. He had told her so numerous times. The world didn't deserve someone like her though. No one did. But she had accepted him. With all his flaws, all his demons, she had accepted him.

A short while later had him sitting on a bench that had a clear sight towards an old fig tree that stood tall and wide near the centre of the park. A few seconds passed before the crowd of people gave way to his sight. His heart skipped a beat as he looked straight at the spot.

She was there.

Sitting cross-legged leaning on the tree. A copy of Mists of Avalon in her hands, as she took in the words with such focus, such passion as if she could see everything happening right before her eyes. One sight and it could not be denied that at that moment, anything and everything that was her, it solely belonged to the words written as if they had come alive within those pages performing for her and her alone.

Many would not see the scene as he would. Many would not feel what it made him feel. Peace. For she was here. Alive. Well.

A sudden hailed voice of warning shout was in the air and he knew what would happen a few moments before it did. A mistimed throw and the trajectory of a solid throwing disk veered towards a collision course with the girl sitting alone by the tree, completely oblivious to the world around her. The cry was enough to rouse the girl from her doings, even so, it was obvious to him that she would be unable to react in time.

A discreet point cast from a slightly resistive wand was all it took to change reality.

The frisbee changed direction as if the wind had picked up at exactly the same time and pulled it away from the girl. A breathy sigh of relief left her lips as she looked at the now downed sporting item. As though the switch had been turned on again, the girl continued her efforts to etch the wonderful world of the book in her mind.

Harry smirked a little as he watched her reading again. With another wave, the frisbee chipped in the middle. Petty? Yes. Was he above it though? Definitely not. To see her safe, happy, there was nothing he wouldn't do. He watched her for what seemed like hours before a car pulled up around the edge of the park and a woman came towards the girl. A disappointed frown marred the girl's face as her mother led the girl towards the car without speaking a word.

He had to bite his tongue to keep himself under control. He knew she didn't exactly have a happy home, but to see it for himself? It spoke to something within him. She deserved better, a lot better than a distant father and his trophy wife masquerading as a mother. A worrying frown creased his lips as he looked towards the now retreating car taking away his reason to live.

'Things will change soon enough love. I have you back again. For now, it will have to do. I promise you though, you will have your family waiting for you when you come back.'

With that silent vow, Harry took another look at merrily playing children before he left towards the secluded alleyway.

-x-x-x-x-x-

When he returned from Heathgate he could hear quite murmurings coming from the room his guest had been sleeping in. It surprised him though. While it was quite possible for his godfather to start coming around what with the last dose given to him being his sixth one in the last three days, the state of his body had been severe when he had rescued him four days ago. For his body to have been recovered enough to force him to consciousness was quite a feat. While there was a correlation between the power of a magical and the effects of COD, he had not expected Sirius to have retained the level of magic that could help him recover faster than any other average wizard. Maybe the animagus transformations had helped in that respect? Whatever the case, his godfather did seem to be doing rather well. His pale skin had gained a sort of healthy-ish colour. His emaciated body had gained a few muscles and a bit of fat so as to not make it look as if Sirius was a poster child of muggle malnutrition campaigns. All in all, it did untie a knot in his stomach when he saw the man getting better than he had been even in his past.

The more shrewd part of his mind acknowledged the fact as a valued variable in his recently concocted scheme. There had been a plan for all this before. There had been many variations of plans, in fact, made for certain changes and many of its permutations. They all had been thrown out of the window when he had seen the newspaper a mere three days after his arrival. Now, he had to rely on certain aspects that were out of his control. Aspects that he wasn't really sure would react in predictable ways. The plan had most certainly not survived the contact. But he had been a commander of a force of over four hundred soldiers. He knew how to roll with the punches. It was time to change the game plan and he knew one piece that he could move to make it all come together in a way that not even the meddler could find a reason to not believe. It had been his plan after all. A dark smirk laced his lips as he thought of what he had planned. It would be perfect in the short term. The man would get his well-deserved freedom. And it was not a small benefit that it would provide him with an ear within the inner ranks of the Ministery of Action.

An abrupt coughing fit from the man laying down brought him out of his thoughts as Harry looked at his now conscious godfather hacking and wheezing as if to expel the excess air in his lungs. It was to be expected actually, the man had been fed through a tube directly into his veins. There was a possibility of fluid segregation in different sections of the lungs, minor as it was. He moved towards the prone man gently so as to not startle him. With slow hands, he lightly pulled Sirius' upwards and added a pillow beneath.

Before Sirius could even say a wheezed "Whaa..", Harry poured the glass with some water and added a straw so as to make it easier for the man to drink. A while passed before Sirius returned his attention towards him. Harry could see questions swirling within his eyes. And he knew just what answers to give. But there was a priority queue in place. First things first. He had to check how Sirius was really doing.

"Mr Black, I know you have questions and I want you to know that you will get every answer that I can give you soon enough. But first, we need to see if you are feeling any better. You can nod if you understand me." Harry asked even as his hands moved towards the prone man's wrist to check his pulse.

When he received a wary nod, Harry began checking him earnestly.

"Do you feel something slightly heavy in your chest, Mr Black?"

A nod.

"It's natural. Probably some excess fluid from the treatment. Don't worry, you will feel better in a moment. I am going to inject something that will help you with most of your issues." When he received a startled look from the man, he sighed. "Mr Black, I assure you, some of my colleagues and I have done extensive tests on the muggle concoction here, it actually improved health among magicals. If you wish I can inject it into myself first, but considering that I am not ill, the compound may affect me adversely. If you would much rather get healed without its usage, then you can choose that as well, though I would advise against that considering there is some time-sensitive information that we have to discuss. Ultimately, it is your call."

Sirius looked at the child in front of him as if seeing him for the first time. His vision had been hazy for the first few questions the boy had asked of him. He had thought that the people who had brought him here had either hired a goblin healer or some weird midget medi-wizard. But as he saw him through his clearing sight, he could see that it was, in fact, a boy. He had no idea to whom the child was referring to as 'his colleagues' nor did he have any clue why would anyone give a boy as young as him the responsibility of taking care of a felon. Though there was something in the tone of voice that made Sirius want to really listen to what the boy was saying. He had basically asked him if he wanted to get better sooner or later. Well, that was not even a question that he would take time to consider, but the real question was, could he trust a young boy who may or may not be a figment of his imagination? He mentally shrugged. Meh! Why not. The boy was at least much better company that the soul suckers anyway.

With the decision made, as mentally jarring as it was, he gave his answer in a hoarse voice that made him realise that the years had really not been kind to him.

"I…I'll take…the needle."

The boy nodded at once. "Very well. It doesn't cause any drowsiness so you can still ask me whatever you wish to ask and I will do my best to answer it." Seeing the man agreeable enough, the boy injected the solution into his veins making Sirius flinch a little. "Alright. That's done with. Now, what is it you wish to know, Mr Black?"

Sirius took a moment to form the question. But he knew what he wanted to know, had known it ever since he had been lucid enough to think of the matter.

"Whr…Where is Haee?"

"Your speech will get refined soon, Mr Black. And as for your question, Mr Potter is safe. With the current political scenario, it was considered best for him to move out of the country." Before Sirius could say anything to interject he was silenced as the boy overrode any remark he could have made. "I have been authorised to give you a magical oath stating that the health and safety of Mr Harry Potter is our top priority and he is receiving the best care and teachings that anyone could ask for. And to that effect, I will give you that oath before talking about anything else. Trust is something that we believe needs to be established first and foremost."

With that, the boy held up a wand in his hands and recited an oath to that effect. A slight flash of light signified the oath as binding and true. A quick application of levitation charm proved that the boy had been honest. Sirius looked at the boy again and was surprised to see his eyes that held his attention. They looked too old. Too weary. Deciding to trust the little fella, Sirius asked something that was bothering him ever since he had gained lucidity.

"Who…are…you?"

The boy nodded again and signalled with his hand towards the wall that showed a fading image of a house crest. A simple heraldic display consisting of the shield, on which sat the crest. It was divided into four quadrants each quadrant showing various patterns lining edge to edge. Its base was encircled by a circlet of sequoia leaves. Seeing the uncomprehending look on Sirius' face, the boy explained the crest by formally introducing himself.

"I am Harold Kent, the lone member of the Ancient House of Kent. I believe you know of the house, even if the house itself hasn't been spoken of in quite a few years. I am also much older than I look. I have been assigned this role for the relative ease that it lets me move around the wizarding world. And lastly, I am a member of a small coalition whose main aim is to protect Mr Potter." With that, the boy, now identified as Harold Kent, looked towards Sirius mutely asking for him to ask his inquiries further.

Sirius had heard of the house once or twice before when he had been living with his family in Grimmauld Place, during the good old days. It had always been spoken of in the past tense, making him believe that the ancient house had met its end. But seeing a living member in front of him, he supposed not. But it still did not explain how and why did this small boy of all people, had him here. If there had been a change in his sentence shouldn't he be somewhere ministry regulated? Before he could ask, however, Harold gave answers to his unasked questions.

"Mr Black much has changed since you were held in captivity. I will tell you what we have been able to find out, but I suppose we need to clear the air about who we are and what we wish to accomplish here. There are very few of us. You see, we are just average witches and wizards, Mr Black. We are your everyday Joe whom you would not even look twice at, generally. We knew of the location where your godson had been kept ever since the fateful night when the Dark Lord seemingly met his end. We were keeping an eye on him when we could and given what he had done for us we considered it our duty to protect him for forces that meant him harm. In that endeavour, we noticed certain signs that Mr Potter was in far more danger from the people within than any other, and thus we decided to take action. You see after you were sent to Azkaban, Dumbledore gained custody of Mr Potter and decided to stow him away from the eye of the magicals. Only, he didn't go very far. He took him to Mr and Mrs Dursley, I believe they are late Mrs Potter's sister and brother-in-law. Quite a few of us saw him almost on a regular basis whenever Mr Potter was taken out of the house. We saw one of his last living family members giving him the kind of treatment most wouldn't see fit for an animal. We strongly disagreed with what Chief Warlock had done and decided to take him away from the place. We faked an attack on the house and took Mr Potter with us to one of our member's home. We originally planned to give him a home away from the eyes of certain forces that still wanted him harm, but with what happened, we had to change our plans drastically.

As soon as he got news of what had happened, it is our belief, that Albus Dumbledore incorrectly deduced that Mr Potter had died during the attack, exactly as we wanted. I hope as I have given a magical oath to that effect you will believe me when I say that neither myself nor any member of this coalition wish any harm to come to Mr Harry Potter. Yes?"

A crisp nod from Sirius was all he got. Deciding to continue, Harold told Sirius everything that had happened from Dumbledore's response to Harry's death to every action taken by the ministry ever since. When he came to the part where there had been a doppelganger of Sirius' running around he decided to tackle to issue a bit sideways.

"…And as a part of the response to these events, Minister and Chief Warlock concocted a story that said that you yourself had asked to be sentenced, so as to lure the dark lord's forces into thinking that you had in fact been a spy in the midst of the Order." Seeing Sirius' eyebrows shooting up he raised his hand and gave the man the answer of his unasked question.

"Yes, we do know of its existence. Some of our family had been members of the Order of the Phoenix. Coming back to point, after your supposed self-sacrifice, you were somehow released into ministry's custody and worked on a project that involved luring the remaining death eaters into the house that had been where the fake Mr Potter had been living. As you would have no doubt, been unagreeable with most of the things involved, it was decided to make your supposed self-sacrifice a reality. When we rescued you, Mr Black, Minister's personal Auror-Squad was just about to deliver you to the reapers. As for how they expected to explain your role. Well, I have to say, it was quite ingenious. Something that I nor anyone could expect the ministry to do. We suspect Mr Dumbledore's hand in the machinations, but that's beside the point. You see, they decided to use someone who looks very much like you to portray you. Are you familiar with Mr Stubby Boardman?" asked Harold, now looking at a very stoic looking Sirius Black.

Receiving a nod, Harold explained to him how the exchange of Blacks had been made and how they had, just recently, turned it on the ministry.

"Now Mr Black we have come to the part where I will tell you how you can help us keep Mr Potter safe. But before that, there is something that I have for you. When we told Mr Potter about you and that you were his godfather, he was quite naturally upset. He thought that you had betrayed his parents and wanted nothing to do with you. Before all this nonsense about fictional operations of luring out dark forces, one of our members who is a clerk in the DMLE had given us some startling information. His report had said that there were no transcripts of your trial, nor were there any reports stating that you had been captured. It beggared belief that someone, anyone, had just been chucked into that horrid place without receiving a proper trial. We did some digging and came to realise that there were many discrepancies in the story given to the public. When we caught news of their plan to get rid of you, we acted swiftly. During this, one thing was clear, you were innocent of the crimes that had been lobbied against you and most of our findings had supported such. Why the ministry didn't do this with all their resources, I cannot say. But I can tell you this, it was much easier than throwing an innocent into Azkaban and hiding the paper trail."

As he said this, Harold looked towards Sirius to gauge his reaction. He knew it was quite manipulative of him to do this. He had thought and thought about it endlessly during the time Sirius had been unconscious. No matter how many times he recalled his impression of Sirius, he could not figure out why the man had been so passive in his attempts at getting to know his godson. That is until he had gone over the times when he had been with Sirius and by that, he meant really been with him, as two family members getting to know each other after circumstances had kept them apart for years. There was no doubt in his mind that the distance had been caused by few subtle warnings whispered into Sirius' ears by the meddler himself. While Harry could see that he had had an open connection with his nemesis, and as such it would have been prudent to not share any details about the plans involving any war effort, that did not mean that they could not have talked or bonded over anything else. From what he remembered of those days, he had been feeling quite lonely. What with his friends been told not to contact him, stating deficiencies of a secure owl-mail and the ever-present distant relationship with his relatives, he had severely lacked an emotional anchor.

In those times, it would have been quite an assurance if an adult, any adult really, had made inquiries towards his mental health. None had come though. Not from the Weasleys, not from other Order members and certainly not from Sirius. And it certainly had not been because they didn't want to be there for him. It was quite clear now, they all had been following the lead of their leader. Echoing him, without really knowing why.

For him, it had been many years since his godfather had passed. Many years to get over the guilt of causing his death. Years to mourn him. He had not known much about the man in life, but he had done much to understand him in his death. Sirius had been a man run by his emotions. He gave everything to the people that had his love and respect. But it could be a double-edged sword too. As could be shown with his behaviour towards himself and the traitor Pettigrew. It had taken a lot of time and whiskey to settle with that realization.

What he had spent time on, within the last three days though, was ways he could get the man out of his single-minded thinking that one man, any man could do no wrong. It had been quite a few hours before he had unhappily realised that the truth would not ever work completely. The man would consider his loyalty torn between two sides. And considering who the other party was, he was sure that the meddler did have the perfect set of skills to persuade Sirius to give him up. His love for his godson would only work until he was made to think that said godson was not strong enough to deal with an enemy four times his superior, in knowledge and experience. Sirius would unflinchingly betray Harry's trust if it kept Harry safe. And he knew the meddler would realise it sooner or later and grab on to that rope with everything he got. He needed Sirius in heart of the ministry to make him realise that the man he had given his trust had done nothing but break it over and over again.

Hence the ruse.

"It will be, as I have said before, your decision. Mr Potter had us promise him that you would be given the choice and we agreed that making you do something that you didn't wish to do would be counterproductive to what we are trying to accomplish here. And before I forget, Mr Potter gave us a memory to show you. I do not own a pensieve myself and considering it is an uncommon magical artefact, it would not be prudent for us to acquire it for this purpose, but I possess certain skills that would enable me to show you what Mr Potter wished you to see. And as I have taken an oath earlier not to harm you I would proceed with your permission. Furthermore, I am agreeable to give you another oath signifying that the memory itself does come straight from Mr Harry Potter."

Sirius had, in his life, never heard anything similar to the fantastical tale than what the boy was telling him right now. If it hadn't been for the magical oath the boy had taken, he would have rejected it as the fantasies of a deluded mind. But as it was, the boy had, in fact, contested his right to his magic against the fact. If what Harold Kent had said was true, then he and most everyone who had followed the headmaster unquestioningly had been duped in the grandest of ways. Now, hearing that his godson had given these people a message for him, he couldn't help but hold on to the hope that at least his godson had remembered to remember him, even if it had been at the coaxing of these people. Mentally agreeing to think about what it all meant later, he decided to give his consent.

"Another oath wouldn't be necessary, Mr Kent. I believe the kindness you have shown thus far speaks for you better than any oaths ever could. As long as it doesn't cause me any harm, you can do whatever it is required to show me my godson's message." Replied Sirius in a gravelly voice. He had noticed his speech getting better halfway through and had taken it as another positive sign towards the intentions of these people.

Harold nodded in affirmative as he addressed the man sitting at his front. "Of course Mr Black. As I said before, we wish to create a relationship based on trust. We have a lot we have to do together. It would be prudent for us both to have each other's backs. Regardless, I am about to perform a procedure that is based on the mind arts involving a person to infiltrate the mind of another, it is known as Legilimency, do you know of it?"

"Yes. But I do not wish for you to see what I do not want you to. Is there any other way you can show me the message?"

"There might be, Mr Black, but I do not know of it. And considering I am the only available operator in the safe-house these days, you have to either believe me when I say that the procedure would not be invasive in the least or have to content yourself with waiting till you see Mr Potter in person." Harold replied.

"I don't really have a choice then, do I? Do it, Mr Kent. I will trust that you are capable of this procedure without causing me undue harm." Sighed Sirius, shaking his head a little. The more he hoped to gain ground with these people, the more he got under their helpful favours.

Without missing a beat, the boy brought his wand up and muttered a gentle, "Legilimens."

-x-x-x-x-x-

As he saw his godfather come out of the trance, he knew, something had changed within the man. Hopefully, what Harry had asked of him had struck a chord within him. The brief flare of fire he had seen his godfather's eyes did show a lot of promise towards that fact. Hoping to use the feeling, Harry struck the iron while it was still hot.

"I believe there isn't any doubt left, is there, Mr Black?"

Sirius gave as serious a nod as he could while lying on the sofa. "There isn't Mr Kent. Harry mentioned you had something planned for me?"

"Yes, you see at this moment, for them, one of the major players in this farce is missing. Mr Boardman. As we switched yours and Mr Boardman's fates by swapping him with you, we also gained a distinct advantage. Before we threw Mr Boardman to the mercy of his employers, we did a deep dive within the man's mind to gather as much intelligence as we could. And considering that you both do have a striking resemblance with each other, we were hoping that you would agree to take his place as…well…as yourself. We have planned for a little tweaking session that would require you to undergo certain modifications of some of your facial features but it is pretty minor. I assure you, that would be the easy part. I realise we are basically asking you to go into the lion's den when you have just left what many would consider to be hell on earth, but it is somewhat of a time-sensitive issue. We can only explain Mr Boardman's absence with what we have planned for only a few days, at most a week. You will still require some more treatment but I think you will feel much much better in the next two days here. After that, we can set up a treatment plan in one of our other safe houses. But like everything else, it will be your decision, Mr Black." Harold explained in a serious manner.

Sirius didn't wait more than a few seconds before he gave his answer. "I will do whatever it takes to keep Harry safe, Mr Kent. Tell me whatever is it I have to do and I will do it. If it means keeping Harry safe, I will do it."

"That is good to hear Mr Black. I apologise if I am out of line here, but I am sure late Mr and Mrs Potter will be proud of you for this. Now…what we need to do is make Mr Boardman's minders believe that there really was an emergency that took him away from them. A predicament where his…your sudden disappearance could be justified. I apologise but I think you would have to channel your inner Black for what we have planned. You see, Mr Boardman was an unidentified criminal who never saw inside of a jail cell much less a courtroom. When we dived into his mind we discovered he frequently raped muggle women and obliviated them after the deed was done. We have identified the women and two of them have passed away after years of struggling and undergoing counselling and therapies. There is one woman, however, who was a recent victim of Mr Boardman's heinous ways. The captain of the Minister's personal Auror guard, Auror Captain Robards, knows of the crimes that Mr Boardman had committed but not the extent. We can use that. All you have to do is…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

(Four Days Later)

"…and you thought it was a good idea to stop your search and inform me of your incompetence in person?" Snapped Madam Undersecretary Umbridge at the abashed looking Auror.

"Madam Undersecretary, you asked me to give you hourly reports until I could find the man. I thought it prudent to follow the order." Replied the captain.

"Hmm. And what have you got to report besides the failure of your mission?"

"Ma'am we are continuously monitoring the runic charm that we placed on Boardman's cloak. Unfortunately, either Boardman is in a low magical permeance area, or he has found the array and has disabled it. At this point, all we can do is wait, Madam Undersecretary." Informed the Auror.

"Wait…Is that the best you can do Auror Robards? You are here to solve our problems, not give me placid reports of issues that can uproot this administration. The minister wants an answer by this evening Auror Robards. Is that clear?"

"I would do my best ma'am."

A knock interrupted the meeting as a Junior Auror stuck his head inside to ask permission to enter. Swiftly getting inside when ordered, he addressed the Senior Auror in the room.

"Sir, you asked to be informed when the runic charm on a suspect was activated. It just did sir. He is in muggle London at the moment, quite near the ministry in fact. The boys down the floor narrowed it down to Belgrave Road, sir. Do you want me to assemble a team to scoop him up?" Asked the clearly excited Junior Auror.

"That won't be necessary, Ackley. I will handle it personally."

"Yes, sir."

As the excitable little fella left the office, Umbridge ordered the captain in the most severe voice he had ever heard from her. "Get the man Captain and then we can discuss why you thought it was a good idea to inform a whole tracking team of our missing quarry. Dismissed."

With a snap salute, the Auror left the office muttering about skinning the excitable little juniors as he went towards the apparition point. It would be a busy day it seemed.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Robards arrived onto the scene with a sharp crack. It was only the poor aim of his target that saved him from getting his head bashed in as he rounded the corner towards the only room of the flat. Immediately getting back towards the doors, he shouted his identification.

"Stand down, Aurors!"

When the only response he got was a muffled agreement, he decided to come in. What he saw was pretty gnarly. Boardman was holding a knife in one hand as his other carried his wand loosely aimed his way. There was a body of a woman on the bed with a bloody wound on her stomach. He may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but his experience had taught him a lot. He knew what had happened even before Boardman made a pathetic whimpered sound asking for his help.

"What happened here, Boardman? We have been looking for you for a week now. Where have you been?" Asked the Auror roughly.

"I…I was…searching. Looking for someone. Looking for…her." Answered a clearly distraught Stubby.

"What do you mean you were looking for her? Who is she?"

"Brea…Her name is Brea Chadwick. She was…she was my…my lover. She became pregnant a while back. I didn't know. She found the room though. I don't know how she did. But she found my flat…this flat. I was alerted when someone came here and I apparated straight here. She was gone though. There was no one here. I asked the neighbours and they told me that a woman had come by. One of them gave me a…a description of the woman and I knew it was her. I could not forget her. I knew her. I searched for her for days, knowing that if she knew about the flat, she might have seen some other things as well. Somethings of our world, you know? And I…I panicked. I tracked her to her flat and then other places. When I got another alarm that this flat had been accessed again, I came here. She was shouting though. Crying and shouting. Saying that she knew what I had done to her, saying that she knew what I was. I don't know what happened Gawain. I really don't. It was…It was like a red haze came over me and…and next thing I knew, she was lying there and I was here, holding a knife in my hand. I don't know what to do, Gawain. I don't…." The man started sobbing in the middle of the room as he knelt down by the bedside.

Robards looked at the man kneeling beside the dead body of the woman crying his eyes out. He knew the man had been pathetic ever since the office had asked him to do a background check on him. He had known of his predilections well before he had approached him for the job. Madam Undersecretary had brushed away his worries stating that 'a man with things to hide would be more malleable than any other'. He had obeyed wordlessly. And now he was standing here watching that same man weeping about something that he had done. Judging that the importance of the man was much more when he was active than a sobbing mess, he reacted accordingly.

"Get up Stubby. We need to take care of this. Do you own this apartment? Is the lease in your name?" Robards asked forcefully.

"No…I…I obliviated the owner years ago. Nobody even knows it's his place." Answered a still sobbing Stubby as he was manhandled into leave the room in favour of the kitchen.

"Hmm. Good. Now listen to me, you arrived here after you found the alert charm go off. You found the place empty. Then you contacted me about your little problem and I took care of it. Do you understand? Do you… Listen to me damn it! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes…Yes, Gawain. You took care of the problem. I wasn't here for more than a few minutes, anyway. I don't know what happened here after I left," came the words from a still struggling former singer.

"Good. Now, let's go. Muggle Aurors will take care of it." Robards said as he moved the man towards the front door.

With a sharp crack, the duo departed for the ministry.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Samuel Carthwick was a diener at the local morgue in Southwark. He was a man of very few wants and needs. But those few wants were peculiar, to say the least. You see, there aren't many people who like to deal with death. Policemen, Military and the like did it to protect others, others did it due to various other reasons but the Dieners, they did it because, well...someone had to. And Samuel did it because, with dead people, he didn't have to listen to the voices that always put him down. Samuel liked the dead folk. And if these dead people could help others as too, well it was always a plus in his book. So, whenever a business opportunity rose for him to help the living with his collection of merchandise, he almost never turned it down. "Nice doing business with ya. If you ever need a body again, you know where to find me," the clerk said jovially.

"Yes, I believe I do. Thank you again for your services, Mr Carthwick," a dark-skinned man thanked Samuel as he walked away after completing their business.

"Yeah. Yeah."

A few blocks away, the man jerked as if coming out of a trance. He felt a little woozy and shook his head to make everything stop spinning. 'Man!… I don't know what Jerry gave me, but that was some scary shit… Better ask if he has some more though.' were his thoughts thinking the reason for the recent bout of wooziness to be the happy pills provided by his friend Jerry.

A young boy collided with the man going in the opposite direction. "Sorry, sir. I wasn't looking where I was going," the boy apologised fearfully.

"Take care kid. You don't wanna do that this close to the intersection, yeah?"

"Yes sir, I will be more careful."

"Good-man!"

Harry passed the alleyway of the block as he counted the few pound notes he had acquired from the dark-skinned man. 'Meh! Noddles for dinner again it seems.'

-x-x-x-x-x-

~ Review Please ~

A/N - A diener is a morgue worker responsible for handling, moving, and cleaning the corpse (though, at some institutions, dieners perform the entire dissection at autopsy). Dieners are also referred to as morgue attendants, autopsy technicians, and other titles that can vary from region to region.