Harry knew that this was coming. He knew that something big was gonna happen with that door and, yet, he didn't care. It there was even a sliver of a chance that Sirius was here--which he wasn't--Harry was going to find out. Something had told him that it was a trick; that it wasn't real. But he needed to know. He acted on impulse--the impulse that Gryffindors are known for. And now he's at the Department of Mysteries facing Lucius Malfoy.

"We have you cornered, Potter. give us the orb."

And the sad part was that Harry actually wanted to do it. The orb wasn't worth his friends' lives. He looked around at them. They all held fear in their eyes, even Luna. But Neville had a special kind of determination surrounding him. "Don't give it to him, Harry!" He yelled. The Death Eater holding him tightened her grip. Harry turned to Ron, Hermione, Luna, they all had that same determination as well. They were willing to risk their lives for him. They knew how much Sirius meant to him; they understood his choice and they wanted to fight beside him. What had he done to deserve them? He was just like any other normal kid--he didn't deserve him. And, yet, here they were, still fighting.

He gave Hermione a look, looked to the shelves, and then looked back at her. She nodded as if she understood and he counted down with his hand behind his back. He knew the was telling the others and he looked Lucius straight in the eye to occupy his vision.

5...4...3...2…

"NOW!" He shouted and the shelves went toppling backwards. Millions of unheard prophecies could be seen shattering on the ground as Harry and the others got away. They ran back to the doors and got split up. "Ron!" Harry shouted but Neville gripped his shoulder. "Don't yell. They'll--"

"Found youuuu!" the wicked voice of Bellatrix Lestrange screamed out. She was about to throw a curse when they heard another voice.

"Duel with someone your own size, Bella. Or are you as much of a coward as your Lord?"

They turned to see Sirius standing there.

"The Dark Lord," Bellatrix sneered, "Is not a coward." Then started the battle. Hex after hex; curse after curse, it was relentless. Ron and Hermione were hurt and had to be protected by Tonks and Harry was hexing every Death Eater in sight. They heard a laugh ring out. "Having some trouble, Bella?!" Sirius mocked.

She snarled, low and feral, and continued dueling. "It's you who's having trouble, Black." She threw Avada Kedavra and Sirius tried to duck, but he lost his footing and fell into the Veil of Death. Harry gasped as he smiled one last sad smile before he went.

Harry screamed. "SIRIUS!" No. Sirius. He never got his innocence. Remus was holding Harry back now. "He's gone, Harry. He's gone." He said, sadly.

Sirius.

He was supposed to move in with him. They were supposed to live as a family. They would do things like any other family. Harry would go with him for the holidays and wouldn't have to be alone while Ron and Hermione went with their families. He wouldn't have to be with the Dursleys. They would be happy.

Sirius.

He was never a convict. He was supposed to gain his innocence. They wouldn't have to live in the shadows. Pettigrew would go to Azkaban and all would be well. He would've been able to live happily.

Sirius.

He was the only father figure that Harry ever had. Remus was great but he was like an Uncle. Sirius gave him something to look forward to. But he was gone, far too soon, and one person was responsible for that.

"I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!"

Harry struggled out of Remus's arms and ran towards her. They ran all the way to the Atrium before they stopped. Harry his behind the fountain and waited with bated breath.

"Come on out, little Harry," she called out in a mock baby voice. "Didn't you want to avenge my dear cousin?" She yelled, which echoed off the polished floors and walls.

"I am!" Harry shouted and he could hear a chorus of echoes shouting after him. I am! I am! I am!

"Did you...perhaps...love him, little baby Potter?"

Hatred rose in Harry that he had never known before. "Crucio," Harry snarled, but it merely bounced off of her.

She laughed wickedly and said "Is Ickle Baby Potterkins going to curse me? You have to mean it."

Harry smiled, twisted and evilly. "You're right. I do. Crucio," he snarled and this time it struck home. Her screams rang out and bounced off the walls. Harry heard a voice in his head egging him on.

/Yesss/ it said. /Torture hhhher. Give her a tassssste of the pain that you felt when your godfather died./

Harry lifted the curse. He knew better than to listen to strange voices in his head. Bellatrix was breathing hard but knew not to speak. Harry's Cruciatus was as bad as the Dark Lord's and probably worse because it was backed by emotion.

Harry turned and pointed his wand at the owner of the voice. "Voldemort," He said. "How nice of you to show up. I was beginning to think that I wasn't worth your time."

"You impertinent-"

"Nah," Harry interrupted. "Not rude - just eager."

Voldemort snarled. "You will die at the hands of the Dark Lord you insignificant child."

"Have at it," Harry said and the duel started.

Hex after hex; curse after curse. Back and forth and they never missed a beat. Bellatrix watched gobsmacked. A child could keep up with the Dark Lord. The Potter spawn was skilled. Grown men wet their pants in fear just from hearing "You-Know-Who" and here Potter was dueling him. However, she sensed another presence and a second later there was a bang. The smoke cleared and there was Albus Dumbledore in all his glory.

"Hello, Tom," he said conversationally--as if he was not talking to Lord Voldemort. "My name," Voldemort snarled, "is not that Muggle's name." Dumbledore shook his head. "That is your name, Tom. He was your fath-"

"No, old man. He was not."

Harry sat watching Dumbledore. He still wasn't acknowledged by the man. Not so much as a look. "LOOK AT ME! PLEASE, HEADMASTER!" He screamed and, still, Dumbledore did not turn around. In fact, he didn't even seem like he heard Harry. He said something and he and Voldemort started dueling, ignoring Harry.

Green and red jets of lights flew out of their wands like a Christmas firework display...except it was way more dangerous; way more.

They crushed statues, damaged the lifts--one time Harry had to cast a shielding spell to keep his skull from being bashed in by a heavy piece of concrete--but they kept at it. Harry's head felt as if it was going to split open. He was past the point of ignoring it; he didn't even know how he hadn't noticed it before. His own grief must have overwhelmed the anger of Lord Voldemort but now it was back and stronger than ever and he had to fight to stay conscious.

Voldemort disappeared after a spell by Dumbledore and Harry was about to run out when Dumbledore shouted "Don't move, Harry!" And he seemed scared. Harry didn't see what the problem was. Bellatrix was trapped, Voldemort had fled. And then his scar split open. Blood gushed out as if it had all been waiting in that spot in his head to spill. Rivers of red streamed down his face and it almost felt relieving. But black spots danced in his vision. He wasn't in the hall--not anymore. He was bound to a black creature with eyes as blood red as Lord Voldemort's and it was more agonizing than a million Cruciatus curses at once and he felt his jaw move.

"Kill me now Dumbledore…" it said. "You say that death is nothing so I'm sure you won't mind losing the boy. Kill me."

And Harry agreed. He wanted out. He would see Sirius again. He would see his parents again. He would be free from the burden of being all alone in the world--wizarding or otherwise--and he would be with his loved ones...forever. But then the pain was gone. It left as soon as it came and Harry was really unconscious this time.

Seconds later, though, he opened his eyes. 'Someone must have revived me,' he thought. The first things he saw were Dumbledore's electric blue eyes through his half-moon glasses perched upon his crooked nose.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

And Harry wanted to scream because how could he be okay? He had just lost the most important person in his life, seen Voldemort and what he became since they last battled in the graveyard at the end of fourth year, been in agonizing pain, and ignored by the person that had been his number one role model since he had been introduced to the Wizarding World. He was not okay; he would never be okay. But that wouldn't do, would it? So, instead, he said-

"Yeah, I'm okay. Where's Voldemort? Who are all these people? Where-?" He had to take a breath. He scanned the room for his glasses--it was hard--and saw that they were by a headless statue. He sat up, with effort, and grabbed them. There were several voices in the room. One of them belonged to the Minister.

"Dumbledore? Was that--what--when--how?"

"We will talk later, Minister," he said. "But now we must get these children back to the safety of Hogwarts."

"Yes, of course-"

"I trust that you will get your aurors on the lookout and warn the public about this crisis?" Dumbledore interrupted. Fudge looked sour. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, we will."

He handed Harry a portkey and the Minister was still too shocked to say anything. So Harry was whisked back to Hogwarts by portkey and felt numb the entire time.

When Dumbledore had arrived he asked Harry to sit down. Harry listened. When he gave his side of the story, Harry listened. But Dumbledore said that he knew how Harry felt and Harry fell into a rage. He wanted to destroy everything. He wanted to attack Dumbledore, but he had more sense than that. Regardless of everything that happened he still cared for Dumbledore; but in this moment he hated him. He hated how he defended Snape, how he defended Kreacher, how he defended Harry. Said it wasn't all Harry's fault--Harry knew that it was though. It was all his fault. Every last bit of damage was his fault. Dumbledore shouldn't be taking any blame. So Harry destroyed anything he could until he calmed down enough to give one simple request--that was denied.

"Let me out," he said calmly and Dumbledore replied with "No. Not until you hear what I should've told you years ago." so Harry sat down and listened.

Dumbledore told him everything--from the disgusting scar on his forehead to the wretched prophecy that had led his godfather to his death. And Harry listened throughout the entire thing.

"Let me out, Headmaster. I need to breathe," he said, and Dumbledore was afraid that Sirius's death had sparked more of a change in Harry than he had originally thought.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, Harry. You may go."

And Harry walked out and didn't so much as glance back.