FicWad

Pain. Excruciating, overwhelming. It blinded him to his surroundings, drowned out everything outside of himself. He couldn't even tell where the pain was because the intensity of it destroyed even the awareness of his own body. Waves of it washed over him, nauseating, throbbing, pounding, burning, hot lead flowing through the bones of his soul.

He had no idea how long he spent, oblivious, in the relentless grip of the pain. During that time, he didn't think. At least not as most people define 'thinking'. Strange visions, pieces of information, flashes of knowledge all battered at him in the dark abyss, but he could make sense of none of it, could not even conceive of trying to do so. But eventually, so slowly it seemed to take eternity for him to notice the change, to be capable of noticing anything, the pain eased.

Gradually, thought returned to him. Consciousness beckoned. Pain still throbbed through every bit of his body, but he was, at last, aware of that body. He could feel the ache in his spine, the burning running along his skin, sharp lightning shooting through muscle and bone. Compared to this, the Cruciatus curse was merely uncomfortable. Compared to what he'd felt before it decreased to this level, it was almost pleasurable. With the pain came a sickening wrongness-- as if some part of him was completely alien, and terrifying in its incomprehensibility. But the pain was still fading, and the nausea and disorientation faded with it, and as it faded, the knowledge he'd barely glimpsed before flooded his mind, changing everything he'd ever believed about magic, everything he'd been taught.

He opened his eyes. His body still tingled, here and there, a shivering reaction to that strange, alien touch, and he recognised it as Darkness. Dark... magic? That wasn't right, not exactly. It was more the essence of Darkness itself, and it was a strange contrast to the Light he could now feel pervading his soul. It didn't hurt any longer, though. And it didn't feel evil, just... different. Just as he felt different, now. How bizarre it was that he had changed so much and yet everything still looked the same. He still lay on the lumpy mattress, his sunburned skin still sensitive to the touch of the coarse sheets. There was no fan in his room, the hot, stifling air in the room still save for a slight breeze from the cracked window. Everything looked the the same. And yet... everything had changed.

He sat up, looking around the room with new eyes. It didn't seem reasonable that such a profound change in his life could have occurred in silence, without any outward sign, yet it seemed that, somehow, it had.

He couldn't do this alone, he knew. He needed help. But he wasn't sure where to turn. He didn't know where Hermione lived, and he was afraid that if he contacted Ron his parents would tell Dumbledore. That left... Sirius. Sirius would help, he knew it.

Unless... the new knowledge, still raw and sharp-edged in his mind, stirred, and he realised that Sirius might well go charging off to kill Dumbledore. That's what he'd done the night his parents were killed, after all.

Harry shifted uneasily, uncomfortable with the thoughts running through his head, but something made him face them. It was the truth, and he knew it, and if Sirius set off like that again it could ruin everything.

He bit his lip. He didn't really have a choice. He had to have help. He'd just have to keep Sirius from jumping the gun.

He dressed as quietly as he could, not wanting to risk waking his relatives, and hoped that he was right that wandless magic couldn't be detected by the Ministry. It shouldn't be, and since his wand was locked up with the rest of his stuff downstairs, he'd be honestly able to say he hadn't used it.

Now if he could just keep himself from splinching when he Apparated.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on where he was, and where he wanted to be, and with a popping sound, Dudley's second bedroom was empty.

He wasn't prepared for the rush when he called the power. It was dizzying, intoxicating... wild! Like a crazy spiralling dive on a broomstick at impossible speeds. He laughed as a swirl of colour whirled crazily around him, and the magic tingled up and down his spine. Then the colours slowed, and slowed again, froze... shattered. He fell a few inches, then sand shifted beneath his shoes, and a cool, salty breeze touched his skin.

Harry staggered, laughing out loud. This wasn't like any magic he'd ever done before, and he loved it.

The black dog curled up in the back of the cave a few feet away leapt to its feet, instantly awake and alert, its lip drawing back in a snarl. Then it stopped, staring at him. It took no more than a second or two for the dog to change and grow, and then his godfather was staring at him in shock. And a touch of fear, as well. "Harry? What's wrong? What's happened?" Sirius stepped quickly forward, reaching out and drawing Harry further into the cave and behind him as he looked anxiously out the opening.

Harry stared at his godfather, shocked. Sirius was thinner than he was, even with the meals he'd missed because of the Dursleys, and his clothes were a disaster. Sirius had been loyal to Dumbledore's cause for longer than Harry had been alive, and this is how he was treated? He didn't believe for a second that Dumbledore couldn't have had a house-elf sneak him food, or that Dumbledore couldn't have made things easier for him, and as he looked at the figure in front of him, the last vestiges of doubt crumbled away.

Slytherin hadn't lied to him.

"Oh, god, Padfoot!" Harry cried, throwing his arms around the older man. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Sirius wrapped an arm around Harry's slender shoulders and held the boy close. "Harry, son... what's going on? Did something happen? How did you get here? You shouldn't be here!"

Harry looked up at him. "We need to sit down," he said. "And I need some food."

Sirius ducked his head, embarrassed. "Harry--" he started, then sighed and shook his head. "Who brought you here? Where are they? You need to get back before you're missed. It's not safe here." But he hugged Harry tightly, even as he insisted he needed to go.

"I brought me here," Harry said. "I Apparated. And I wasn't safe where I /was/."

"Apparated... Harry you could have been killed!" Sirius drew back to grip Harry's shoulders and stare down at him in horror. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to try that without proper training?!" Beneath the heavy beard and the dirt, Sirius' skin was deathly pale. "What possessed you to try such a thing!?"

Harry waved his hand, conjuring a pair of overstuffed chairs. He shivered as he felt the magic rush through him. "Sit down, and I'll explain," he said.

Sirius stared at him, shocked. "Harry..." In a daze, the man stumbled backwards and sat, sinking into the plump cushions with an involuntary groan at the sudden comfort. "Harry," he tried again, then cleared his throat. "I want you tell me what's happened. Tell me everything," he said, firmly, his voice recovering some of its usual strength.

"I will," Harry said, sitting down in the other chair, "But first I need you to swear to me that you won't do anything about it until I say you can."

"If someone's hurt you--"

Harry snorted. "That's an understatement. But you have to promise." He searched the older man's face for some hint of capitulation, and when he didn't find it, his heart sank. He hadn't wanted to say the next bit; he knew it was cruel. "Padfoot, the last time you went off half-cocked, I lost you for thirteen years. I don't want that to happen again."

Sirius flinched, his grey eyes filling with guilt. "You know if you need me, I'll be there, Harry," he said, sadly. "No matter what I have to do. But... I promise I'll hear you out, first, son. I... you can trust me, Harry, not just with your secrets, but not to abandon you. I swear it."

Harry took a deep breath. "Thanks," he said. "This... this is big. Really big. Maybe bigger than Voldemort coming back."

Sirius was worried enough that he didn't even flinch at the name. "Tell me."

"I had a dream tonight. I was sitting across from Voldemort having tea. For some reason, I wasn't scared. Then I heard a phoenix singing, and I realised that I wasn't afraid because it wasn't actually Voldemort. Then he started changing, and I realised who he was."

"A dream/? You... all of this is because of a /dream/?" Sirius' expression wavered between shock and outrage. "Harry... I know it's horrible, but you've had dreams of... of /him before. Frequently. And after... the past year, of course you're having bad dreams. That's no reason to endanger yourself by..." His voice trailed off, as he remembered the lack of a wand, and the ease of Harry's conjuration.

Harry smiled sadly. "It wasn't just a dream. And it wasn't /him/."

Sirius sighed deeply, rubbing at his temples. His face was more lined than the last time Harry had seen him. Considerably so, in fact. He looked more like he was in his late fifties than his actual age of thirty-four, except for the mass of tangled black hair, and even there, Harry could see liberal streaks of silver.

"Alright, son. Tell me all of it," he said, tiredly.

"Did you hear about what happened my first and second years?" Harry asked.

Sirius nodded grimly. "Of course. I was damned proud of you," he said. "Bloody clever work. Of course, it ought not have been you kids taking care of other folks messes, but nobody can say you didn't do a damned fine job of it."

"Doesn't it seem odd to you that three first-years were able to get past protections that were meant to keep out the second most powerful wizard in the world? And isn't it strange that Dumbledore couldn't figure out it was a basilisk petrifying the students?" Harry asked.

Sirius was quiet for a bit. That was one of the things Harry loved about him: he never just dismissed what he told him. He always thought it through, giving him the same respect he would any adult. Eventually, he raised his eyes to meet Harry's. "The first could have been a coincidence," he said, thoughtfully. "One of you couldn't have done it. Three other students couldn't have done it. Only the three of you, together, could slip through the cracks. The second..." He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. It's strange. Not impossible... the old fellow could easily be getting forgetful. I've seen some evidence that way, myself. He's had a long life, and a hard, hard life, with too much pain and death, and that takes it out of a man, mentally." He looked down at the floor, but not before Harry saw the shame in those grey eyes and realised that Sirius could very well be speaking from experience. "He should have known. But maybe what he really should have done was get some help. Someone to fill in the gaps that his age is causing."

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't a mistake. He was using me. Using me to--" He stopped, his stomach turning to lead, as he realised exactly who the Heir Slytherin had talked about was. "Oh no," he whispered.

"Harry? You alright?" Sirius asked anxiously. "Son, I know it looks bad, but... he cares about you. And despite his occasional forgetfulness, he's still one hell of a wizard, and he wants what's best for you." His jaw hardened. "I might wish he'd made different choices, but... he's usually right. What kind of life could you have had with a wanted criminal, eh?"

Harry shook his head again. "Albus Dumbledore is the Lord of Light, and I'm his designated Heir. But I'm not the first. Or even the second, or third. And Tom Riddle was the Heir of Darkness, but he didn't finish the transfer, and it drove him mad. And now there's a new Heir... and she didn't finish it either."

Sirius' brow wrinkled. "The who of the what now?" he asked, shaking his head, then his eyes narrowed slightly. "That sounds... vaguely familiar. I've heard the terms, in any event. Some old legend that some of the old blood use to justify using Dark Arts. It's rubbish, Harry. Just another excuse to be murdering arseholes."

He shook his head. "It's not. Think about it, Padfoot. You can kill someone with a spell of the Light just as easily as the Killing Curse. Evil is in how you use the spell, not what spell you use. If you were dying in excruciating pain, wouldn't the Killing Curse be a mercy?"

"Harry!" Sirius stared at him, horrified. "Oh, Harry, what have you been told, my dear boy? Who has been feeding you these things, this... this dangerous mythology? Don't you know how tempting you are to them, Harry? How much better it would be for them to corrupt you than to kill you? They'd love to get their blood soaked hands on your power, but you're smarter than that. I know you are. So stop this foolishness. You know the difference between right and wrong. You're not one of /them/."

Harry laughed. "Of course not, Padfoot," he said. "I told you, I'm the Heir of Light. I don't think I could use any of the truly Dark spells, and it would hurt if I tried. But there's a difference between Dark and evil. Voldemort, for example, is evil, through and through. So are almost all of the Death Eaters, maybe all of them. I don't know if any of them can be redeemed."

"I don't know what you're saying, then, Harry. What are you getting at? And where did all of this come from?" Sirius asked.

"I told you it wasn't Voldemort. But I haven't told you who it was yet," Harry said. "It was Salazar Slytherin, the last true Dark Lord."

"ARE YOU INSANE?!" Sirius was on his feet, screaming, holding Harry's shoulders in a tight, panicked grip. "Have you totally lost your mind? Even if that was possible, how could you ever trust the ORIGINAL SLIMEY SLYTHERIN!? The man hated everyone but purebloods! That's why he left the school! If he were here, now, he'd curse you as casually as you'd swat a fly!"

Harry sighed. "He didn't. He asked me to do two things in particular, and I'd do them anyway. And I think we don't know who the real Slytherin was. He wasn't what I'd expected."

"Harry... think about it," Sirius urged. "/Slytherin/. They're known for their ability to lie and manipulate. He's the epitome of everything they are."

"But that's not what they were to start with," Harry said. "Slytherin was ambitious/, not evil. It's not his fault that the people put into Slytherin have been what they are, just like it's not /your fault your cousins serve Voldemort."

The guilt and shame were always there when Sirius thought of his family. He'd seen them do so many things, so many unforgivably evil things over the years. James had been his way out, being trusted with his and Lily's child was his redemption... but the Black blood still flowed in his veins, and the burden of the family's evil still weighed down his heart. He closed his eyes, the energy draining from him, leaving him exhausted and confused. He released Harry and stumbled blindly backwards, collapsing into the chair. "Why? Tell me why you believe it, Harry. Tell me everything that convinced /you/. Show me your reasons, not just their results."

Harry hesitated. "Because I understand Light magic now, and it's not inherently good. And because Slytherin had nothing good to say about Riddle, and because I refuse to believe that the current Heir to Darkness is evil. I /can't/."

Sirius slowly shook his head. "Harry, all of that is dependant on you believing things that he... whoever he was... told you. I want to know why you believed anything he told you. How'd he get in, get you to listen to him?"

"Well... the first thing is that phoenix song didn't hurt him," Harry said. "That was the first thing."

"You said it was a dream... perhaps it wasn't a real phoenix."

"It affected me like Fawkes does," Harry said. "And... well, the first thing he asked me to do is kill Voldemort."

"Well... that sounds... I..." Sirius sighed. "I don't know, Harry. I really don't. I just know that the old man cares about you. And I've seen him crying over the lives lost to this war... Bumbling, senile... that I can believe. But evil? It just doesn't fit."

"Maybe he's not evil," Harry said. "Maybe he's just... I don't know. Ruthless. So convinced that what he's doing is necessary that he doesn't care what sacrifices he makes. The problem is, if he succeeds... Slytherin thinks it'll destroy the world. I'm not so sure, but I think it would be bad."

Sirius looked at him grimly. "And now tell me about the magic, Harry. What deal did you make with Slytherin to be able to do what I saw you do? What did it cost you?"

"I agreed to stop his Heir from going mad, and to do the same for them once I'm fully empowered. And... I'd have done it anyway, if I'd realised who it was."

"What is this 'Heir' business?" Sirius asked. "What's it supposed to mean? Anything to do with that 'Heir to Slytherin' mess a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah, actually, but not the way any of us but Dumbledore realised. When Slytherin was getting ready to die, he picked out an Heir to become the next Dark Lord, only the boy died. So did the next, and the next, and finally he realised that Dumbledore, or whoever he was back then, was killing them to keep it from happening. And it's kept happening for a thousand years. Tom Riddle made it into the Chamber of Secrets, but didn't manage the transfer. He just got part of the power, and it drove him mad. The same thing happened a couple of years ago, but luckily the Heir was way more stable, so they're still sane." He looked Sirius in the eyes, waiting for him to connect the dots.

"So... what is it? What makes an Heir, what do they do? What are they for? What does any of this have to do with... Tom Riddle."

"Voldemort still has part of the power of the Dark Lord, and the new Heir won't be able to get it until he's killed. There wasn't one when my parents died, I don't think, and I think that's why he was able to stick around. As for what makes an Heir...." Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure how we're chosen or whatever."

"So he dies and then... what? There's a new Dark Lord. So what's the point?" Sirius asked, tiredly. "That he needs to die isn't anything new. But why the hell should you help a new one? It sounds to me like it'd be better to put the poor kid out of his misery, and then maybe when crazy Voldy is dead, this whole bloody mess can finally be over. For good."

"Because there has to be a balance. If not... if one of the fundamental forces of the universe gets blocked, what's going to happen when it breaks through? What happens when a dam fails?" Harry asked. "And the Dark Lord and the Lord of Light don't have to fight each other. They can work together. And I'm pretty sure I can work with the current Heir."

Sirius just stared at him, his expressive grey eyes so full of pain and disappointment that it struck Harry almost like a physical blow. "You'd work with the Dark Lord, Harry?" he asked softly. "With the source of Dark magic? Right alongside the Death Eaters, and the others who practise the Dark Arts? You? Do you have any idea what your father would say?"

Harry's face fell. "I'd work with her/, Padfoot. Not Voldemort, and not Death Eaters. /They aren't just Dark, they're evil. I wouldn't be evil, Padfoot, I promise."

"I can't tell you what to do, Harry." Sirius squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and they were suspiciously shiny when he opened them. "I'm not known for my wonderful decision-making abilities, you know. But... it's my duty to protect you," he said, almost pleadingly. "And I don't know what to make of what you're telling me. You know I trust you, Harry. That I'll believe you when you choose to trust me. But this..." He shook his head. "I don't know what to believe. I know that you believe what you're telling me, but... what if you've been deceived? Who do I protect you /from/? How do I keep from failing you as I did them?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know, Padfoot. But... can you see Ginny becoming evil?"

"Ginny?" Sirius asked. "Not... little Ginny Weasley? But she's just..." He rubbed at his forehead. "No. I can't. But maybe it's not a matter of choice, Harry. Maybe it's like a curse, or maybe it corrupts like the Dark Arts do, addicting you to it bit by bit until you're no longer who you started as. Or maybe the whole thing is a fabrication, and they want that little girl for something totally different, and have tricked you into providing her for them. There's too much that just... can't be proven."

"I'm not going to give her to anyone," Harry said. "And... she can confirm this. If it's true, she'll be having problems, mentally."

"Harry, she was possessed by the ultimate evil," Sirius said. "She's going to have mental problems!"

"She'll also have a... connection to Dark Magic," Harry said. "I'll be able to feel it, because of my connection to Light magic."

Sirius took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. This was hurting him, Harry could tell. The fear and worry were almost a physical presence in the air between them. The bit of Dark essence lurking in Harry's soul responded to them with an expectant, quivery attention. He could feel it, picture it almost like something alive, some small, dark animal, stretching and preening and arching like a cat trying to take advantage of a tiny patch of sun. Sirius looked up at him with haunted eyes. "What are you supposed to do for her, then?"

"Help her finish it. And then finish Voldemort," Harry said.

"That easy, eh?" Sirius asked, raising a brow. "Should be a piece of cake... it's not like hundreds of people haven't died trying to kill him."

Harry snorted. "Yeah. Piece of cake, right?" He sighed. "I don't know how, Padfoot, I really don't. But we have to. Not just for Ginny, either."

Sirius shot him a sharp look. "Would you do it just for Ginny, then? I heard she fancied you back then..."

Harry flushed, and ducked his head. "She's nice," he said defensively.

"Harry... she's your best mate's sister. That's bad news, son, in too many ways to count. Never mind the whole Dark Lord thing, even."

Harry looked up at him, face red. "Is that what Professor Lupin would say you'd have done?"

Sirius' cheeks flushed, and he smoothed a nervous hand down the front of his tattered robe. "Well, I... ah... I was young, Harry. And I didn't much care for rules... but I would be a bad example for a decent, respectable young man. Remus would be a much better role model, in that area." He straightened. "But I do know what mistakes there are to make!" he said. "I made most of them. So you can trust if I say that something's a bad idea... I know what I'm talking about." He cleared his throat. "Not that that's what we should be talking about. That's incredibly minor compared to everything else, at the moment. So tell me, if saving the girl isn't your reason, what is?"

"It's part of it. And part of it is that I just want this to end. If it doesn't, there'll just be another insane Dark Lord after another, and people will keep dying...."

"Unless there aren't any more Dark Lords, Harry. No more Dark Lords, no more Dark Arts, no more Death Eaters."

"What happens when a dam busts?" Harry asked.

"What are you getting at, Harry?"

"I'm not... fully connected to the Light yet," Harry said. "But I can feel it enough to know that there's no way you could permanently block it. Eventually, it'd break out."

Sirius sighed. "Eventually. But maybe the world would be a better place if we could hold back the Darkness. Even if it's just for a while."

Harry shook his head. "Think about it. What happens when a dam busts?"

"It's not the same thing," Sirius protested. "It's just a matter of what people do, that's all. The world doesn't need that, Harry. It couldn't possibly."

"Do you think Professor Lupin should die?" Harry asked.

"What?" Sirius stared at him, aghast. "Where did that ridiculous question come from?"

"Werewolves are Dark," Harry said. "They aren't evil, but they're Dark."

"That's... just nasty rumours spread by fools who are frightened by what they can't understand. Lupin's no more Dark from his disease than you are from that curse mark on your forehead. They've both got the same cause."

Harry laughed. "Funny you should put it that way," Harry said. "There is a... spot of darkness in me, because of the scar. I can feel it now. It's... uncomfortable, in a way, because it's so different from my magic." He paused. "Is anger evil?"

"I... It..." Sirius groaned, leaning his head back, shaggy hair hanging down the back of the chair. "I don't bloody well know, Harry. Maybe. I'm not a philosopher. I barely made passing marks in school, you know. If you want deep, intricate discussions of ethics and what's wrong and whether anger is ever good and love is ever evil, it's Dumbledore you want, n--" He broke off in mid-word and stared up at the stone ceiling of the cave, his eyes wide.

Harry waited for Sirius to think it through, hoping he was doing the right thing. He didn't really understand the knowledge that Slytherin had given him, and he was flying by the seat of his pants, making points he just barely understood himself.

Sirius was silent for a long time, but finally, without raising his head, he said quietly, "Earlier, when I told you that you weren't safe here, you told me that you weren't safe where you were. What did you mean by that? I thought you were safely tucked away with your aunt and uncle, and that they'd been spoken to about treating you properly."

Harry snorted. "If you call being locked in a room with bars on the window, and fed every day or so 'safe'."

Sirius sat bolt upright. "I was told you were being cared for! He promised they would be watched! There were enough people who cared for you that I couldn't see the filth getting away with anything, not any longer. Oh god... I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't know... but I should have. There's no excuse. God..." He closed his eyes tightly. "At least if they locked you away, they couldn't harm you physically. Small blessing, but better than none."

Harry bit his lip. He didn't want to say anything, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to Sirius, and he knew his godfather would want to know. "That... depends," he said. "I have to work outside all day. My back's still sore from the sunburn."

Sirius froze, every muscle locked, still as a statue, not even breathing. Then a muscle twitched in his cheek, and his nostrils flared, and his silvery grey eyes seemed to blaze with icy fire. Calmly, deliberately, he stood up. "I'll kill him," he said, softly. "I'll kill him, and then I'll kill them, one by one- that blubbering waste of space they gave life to first, so that they have to watch, and then him, slowly, flaying the flesh from his bones, and finally, that treacherous snake of a woman. They're all dead."

Harry shook his head. "No, Padfoot. You can't. He'd destroy you, and then he'd come after me."

With a smile that reminded Harry of the many years that his godfather had teetered on the edge of madness in Azkaban, Sirius slowly shook his head. "No he won't," he said softly. "Because he trusts me, you see. Trusts me as I trusted him to take care of you. He'll suspect nothing until it's too late."

"He fooled Slytherin," Harry said. "Do you really think he won't suspect? Besides, I... I need you."

Probably, nothing else could have snatched him back from the edge, but that did. He flinched as if he'd been hit, and wrapped his arms around his chest, shivering. When he finally looked at Harry again, it was with the warm, smoky, loving gaze he'd grown used to. Without a word, Sirius dropped to his knees by Harry's chair and pulled the boy into his arms. "Alright, son," he whispered, against his soft, clean hair. "We'll do it your way. Whatever that way is, I'm with you. I'm here for you. I promise."

"Thank you," Harry whispered. "Thank you."

Sirius, holding him, felt almost as thin and fragile as he did, but there was a strength there that was reassuring- the strength of someone tested and tried and who never gave up. And, perhaps more importantly, there was validation. Sirius believed him, and even more, believed in him in a way that no one else did. Harry'd heard the phrase 'unconditional love' before, from a Muggle schoolteacher talking about parents and children, but he'd never thought it could actually be a real thing. Now, though... he could feel it. And he could feel the Light within him, and if the Dark reminded him of small, lazy cat, the Light felt like a great winged serpent, coiling around and around the feeling, spreading white-feathered wings wide to catch every smidgen of it, stretching its silken-scaled neck in pleasure.

Harry pulled back. "We need to figure out how we're going to do this," he said.

Sirius smoothed a wayward lock of hair back from Harry's forehead, then bent and pressed his lips against the lightning bolt shaped scar before standing shakily and returning to his own chair. "Yes. And... we should go carefully, too. Right now, he doesn't know we're onto him. We have time. We can be cautious. But you're not going back to those filthy bloodslugs. No sane child would stay with them, not under those conditions, and escaping would be quite logical. We'll arrange for it to look natural, and you can stay with the Weasleys the rest of this summer."

Harry nodded, slowly. "I'm not going to argue with you." The knowledge in his head stirred, like a great snake shifting, and he shuddered as an idea came to him.

His godfather's worried eyes never left his face. "What is it, son?"

"I really don't like thinking like this," Harry said. "It's not... Gryffindorish. But then again, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, so...." He looked away, not having intended to admit that. "Minister Fudge doesn't like Dumbledore, right?"

"People who are that insecure and bribable rarely like anyone who is confident and unbribable. Or who is unwilling to bribe. Fudge is a bureaucrat, like any other. A well-placed 'donation' puts him on your side, as long as it doesn't jeopardise his social status."

Harry nodded. "So if I dropped a couple of things into his lap that would help us, boost his standing, and hurt Dumbledore's reputation...."

"Perhaps," Sirius said, thoughtfully. "If I were cleared, I do stand to inherit quite a bit. And of course, 'Black' is quite an old, respected name." His sneer left little doubt about his opinion of his family's 'respected' name. "But doing so would be more than a bit difficult. There's too much in the way. Dumbledore could have done it, of course, had he wanted to. Therefore, the fact that he didn't would mean that he had reason not to, and would actively block any attempt to change the status quo. It might be easier to fake my death and have you 'inherit' the Black estates to go along with the Potter fortune. That would make him very, very much your friend, indeed, if he can be prodded into thinking about how valuable such an arrangement could be."

Harry looked thoughtful. "On the other hand, all they have to do is question you under veritaserum. And if Dumbledore doesn't want it to happen, Fudge probably does. If I go to him, all apologetic, because I'd thought he was the one blocking it when it was Dumbledore all along...."

"It could work, but there are a couple of drawbacks," Sirius said. "First, you cannot choose what information you divulge under veritaserum. We can't afford to have secrets slip out through careful or careless questioning. And secondly, he would know that you were moving against him, son. And he'd take steps to block it. I'm afraid those steps might be rather permanent ones."

"I don't think I can hide it very long. I'd like to, but realistically..." Harry said.

"You can," Sirius said, firmly, looking him in the eye. "You're strong, and you're brave, and you can do whatever you have to to win this fight. I have no doubt of that at all."

"But he'll figure it out eventually," Harry said. "There's no way he can't."

"True enough," Sirius agreed. "But every moment that he does not is a moment in which we can work undetected. We need to gather information, feel carefully for allies, gather our resources. And you, son..." He shook his head sadly. "You need to gain strength. You're in no shape to face him. Not half-starved exhausted to the point of collapse. No. A little while of being pampered by Molly Weasley and having her stuff you is just what you need. And it will give you time to talk to the girl, to make sure what you've been told is the truth. The entire truth. Even if the... creature you spoke with had the non-evil reasons, he was still a Slytherin, Harry. They lie to their own image in the mirror in the mornings, just to keep in practise."

Harry chuckled. "Well... yeah."

"So. No action for now," Sirius said. "You rest and recover, and learn what you can about this new... power... that you seem to have. Wandless magic, as far as I know, isn't detectable by normal means. That is what it is, right? Wandless magic? Frightening enough, at that, to imagine the kind of power that could Apparate wandless..."

Harry grinned. "Actually, I can do more wandlessly than I can with a wand, and I understand it better."

Sirius shook his head wonderingly. "That's a neat trick, I must say. James and I could have had such fun... Well." He flushed, and tried to run a hand through his hair, but it was too tangled to allow such, and he dropped it with a grimace of disgust. "In any event, it should be quite useful, and thoroughly unexpected. Don't let on to anyone that you can do it, not yet."

"I won't. Well, maybe Ginny. I think she ought to be able to do it too."

"Go carefully, Harry. We still can't be sure of everything. And even if all is just exactly as described, there's a chance that she could be something other than the innocent girl you remember."

Harry nodded. "I'll be careful."

Sirius smiled, a mischievous grin that made his eyes sparkle and took years off his apparent age. "I won't ask that of you. Not James' son. But be as careful as you /can/, and be /smart/, Harry. That'll have to do."

"Well...." Harry grinned. "I'd try to argue with you, but I have a feeling you'd just bring up the last four years."

Sirius laughed. "I'd be more disappointed if you never got in trouble, Harry. You're far too bright to be well-behaved. Staying out of trouble would be a sign that something was deeply wrong." His eyes grew shadowed with guilt. "Not that there wasn't something wrong. Why didn't you tell me, Harry? Or Molly. Or Remus. I don't know how he dismissed the way they were treating you, but did you really think that the rest of us would tolerate that, no matter what Dumbledore said?"

Harry looked down, flushing. "I just...."

Sirius just watched him anxiously, his brow furrowed with worry, his eyes betraying a touch of hurt, and waited for his answer.

"I don't know," Harry said. "If Dumbledore didn't think it was important...."

Wincing, Sirius closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he looked sick. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never even considered that he'd betray you that way. Not just leaving you with them, but making you think that... that it would be fine with the rest of us to let you be abused. It's not," he said hoarsely. "It's not fine at all. And it's not 'normal' and it's not something you deserve or something you brought on yourself or any other ruddy lie the filthy bastard insinuated into your head, understand? It's utterly abominable, and completely the fault of that lying arse and those... those creatures that are kin to your dear mother, and those of us who should have been smart enough to see what was right under our bloody noses but once again failed to see the snake in the grass 'til it had already used its poison..."

Harry looked up at him, wanting to believe that it wasn't normal, that someone would have done something if they knew.

"Oh god..." Sirius gave a strangled moan. "Harry... oh god. Please, son, believe me. I never would have allowed you to go there if I'd known. I thought it was... unpleasant. That they ignored you, didn't let you go out, maybe, but never..." He bit his lip, closing his eyes as he trembled for a moment. "If I'd had any idea, I would have taken you from them no matter what it took. And I know I'm not the only one. Remus would have, too. Molly, in a heartbeat if she'd had any clue how bad it was. McGonagall, even, would have raised hell until you were brought to the castle or she was forcibly silenced. Hagrid would have torn the place apart with his bare hands. We didn't know. We should have. I should have. I should have seen, I should have /asked/... it was my duty, and that I didn't is... utterly unforgivable. But it's not your fault. And you didn't deserve that. I swear it on my blood, by my wand, and with my soul."

"Thank you," Harry whispered.

"Don't thank me, Harry," Sirius whispered. "I don't deserve it. Not now. Maybe not ever. But I'll try." He looked away, swallowing hard. "Now. Best you be going. It's too exposed out here. And now we have two enemies who may be watching you. So here's the plan... you get out of that place. Use the new magic, but make it look like something mundane, something physical. A hole banged in the wall, or the bars rusting through or something. Get to Molly, tell her how you were treated. She'll take you in, but you'll need to convince her not to go straight to confront him. Tell her you're embarrassed, that you don't want to get in trouble, anything like that should do. Molly can't stand to hurt anyone. Rest, recover, learn. I'll be... doing some investigating of my own, and I'll be in touch with you as soon as I can."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll make it look like accidental magic," he said. "That's not traceable by the Ministry either. I'll grab my trunk, then blow the door of my room off the hinges and run."

"Best to do it when they're not in the house, Harry. Accidental magic can get you in trouble, as well, if there's a witness to prove you did it. Or, if they want to be titchy, if you're the only one around who could have done it. But someone hysterically frightened can do amazing things with just their physical strength. It shouldn't be too hard for you to come up with something." He sniffed disdainfully. "Those muggle residences are flimsy things, after all. Don't forget your owl when you flee. I'd hate to leave the poor creature to their mercy. Don't send her to me, though, son. She's too showy. I'll contact you, and you can send notes back via the birds I use."

"I'd never leave Hedwig there!" Harry said, insulted.

"Not on purpose, I know," Sirius said, soothingly. "But you've had a bit of a shock tonight. That kind of thing can lead you to making mistakes you'll regret for the rest of your life."

Harry looked away. "Sorry."

"No, son, there's nothing to apologise for. You've done nothing wrong," Sirius said. "Nothing. I just want to make sure you're not hurt by some detail I forgot to mention. But I think that's it. Do you have fare for the Knight Bus in your school things? It can be quite a trip, so empty the bloodslugs' pantry into your trunk on your way out. Maybe toss a lit... what are they called? Oh right, matches. Toss a lit matches in the rafters as you go, perhaps."

Harry laughed. "No, I couldn't do that."

"Pity. It's no more than they deserve," Sirius said, his tone savage, then he took a deep breath, calming himself. "Alright. I think... that's it. And you do have to go." He stared at Harry with a desperate, almost hungry expression, as if he were memorising every detail of his face. "Some day... be cautious, Harry, but not so cautious you don't defend yourself. If you need me, I'm here for you. And for godsake... I have no other way to get you home but letting you Apparate again, so please for the love of all that's holy, take care when you do so!"

"I will. Does it help to know I wasn't just doing it blind? That I knew how to do it?"

Sirius took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Maybe," he said. "More of your mysterious friend's 'gift'?"

Harry nodded. "He dumped a lot of, well, knowledge about how to do wandless magic. It's completely different from the way you do it with a wand, or maybe I just don't understand the theory behind magic with a wand at /all/." He hesitated. "I also... he gave me a bunch of stuff about people, but it all relates to their, um, darker emotions. It's not really comfortable. I think maybe that's why he did it," Harry said.

With a thoughtful nod, Sirius said, "Alright, then. Yes. That does reassure me a mite. I'm not exactly comfortable with it... there are reasons they don't teach young wizards Apparation, but... well, most of them are stupid, anyway." Sirius had never been known for following rules, after all. "And it seems to me that you could use a bit of help with understanding the less... savoury aspects of people. I hate that you need the knowledge, but you do. Maybe if you'd had it before, you would have been able to spot something that would have given him away earlier. Of course, then he might have just killed you, and it would have been much easier then than now, so maybe it's best you didn't. Either way, I'm not entirely unhappy about you getting it now, even if I should be. Now... you'd better go, before I get stupid. I don't want you to go, but... it's what needs to be done. So off with you, before you make your godfather blubber like a baby."

Harry smiled. "Since I can Apparate now, I can come and visit you if I know where you are."

Reluctantly, Sirius shook his head. "It's too dangerous, son. If they're watching you... they might not be able to find you when you go, but they'll know you're going. God, Harry, I'd love to see you, but... not yet. It's still too much of a risk. I'll write though, as soon as I know anything, or soon, anyway, if I don't find what I'm looking for."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "All right, I guess." He stood up and hugged his godfather. "I'll miss you."

Sirius held him tightly. "I'll miss you, too," he whispered, then let go and stepped back. "Go on, Harry. I'll send you an owl in a day or two to make sure you're settled in with the Weasleys. And... here." He twisted a tarnished silver ring off of the ring finger of his right hand, and handed it to Harry. A design was barely visible through the grime, picked out in black stone and silver; he recognised the Black family crest- a shield with a star in each upper corner, an upside down V separating it into two parts, and an upwards pointing sword centred in the lower half. A greyhound reared up on each side of the shield, and a black banner coiled beneath. The words that should be there, though, /Toujours pur/, or "Always pure," were missing. Instead, the silver now traced out, /Nic opprimere nec opprimum/.

"Nic opprimere nec opprimium?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius smiled grimly. "Neither to oppress nor be oppressed. I'm the last one," he added, defensively. "I can change the bloody thing if I want to. Besides, the old one was ridiculous, with my heir being half-blooded and all."

Harry chuckled. "You've got a point."

"Put it on," Sirius urged.

Harry looked at the ring dubiously, but slid it onto his much-too-small finger. It seemed to wriggle against his skin, but only for an instant, and then it was a perfect fit. He reached to straighten it, and to his surprise found that while he could turn the ring freely, it would not move back up his finger.

"What... how...?" Harry looked up at Sirius in confusion.

"It's charmed, of course, Harry." Sirius grinned. "I told you you're my heir. It can't be taken from you until the day you die, and then it will disappear and go to your heir. Oh, you can pass it on early, if you want, if you're dead sure who you want everything to go to, but no one can take it from you. And, anyone seeing it who doesn't already know I'm still alive will assume that I'm dead, because otherwise, you wouldn't have that. It also gives you access to the Black estate, and everything else. Legally, it's all yours now. But more importantly, the ring will let you know if I'm killed." His smile turned grim. "It should also provide you with an image of whoever killed me. No one else knows that part; it's a family secret. So, if we're found out, this could give you some advance warning."

Harry nodded. "Okay," he said. "How do you think Dumbledore will react to this?"

"That depends on whether we let him think I'm dead. We could do that," Sirius said. "You could just tell him it appeared one night. Or, you could privately let him know I gave it to you. Not in person, of course. Sent by spell or bird. Both have their advantages. Until we get a bit more information, though..." Sirius patted his ragged robes until he located his wand, and then stepped back to point it at Harry's hand. "Occulto!"

"Nice," Harry said, watching the ring vanish from sight. "He won't be able to see it?"

"Not this ring," Sirius said. "Its own magic reinforces any spells that you or I cast on it."

"Good," Harry said. "I don't know how I'd explain not telling him about it."

"Harder to explain what you're doing here, or how I let you stay long enough to get ambushed by Death Eaters," Sirius said, giving him one last, hard hug. "Now get on with you, scamp."

"Goodbye, Padfoot," Harry said, before vanishing.