Sirius Black woke up that morning and knew that the day had finally come. Today was the day that he could, perhaps, get some of his life back. He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, listening to the sound of his own breathing, and the raindrops hitting the floor by the fireplace. Suddenly, a huge wave of emotion threatened to engulf him, but he gulped it down and shook his head to clear it.

Harry. He could see Harry again.

With a heavy sigh, he got to his feet, and dressed slowly. He could feel the curse shimmering in the air around him, as if it knew what he was planning. He smiled to himself, and padded across the room to the cupboard. Using the key he kept around his neck, he opened the door and peered inside at the small pot which was bubbling quietly inside.

He felt weak, and had to clutch the cupboard door for support. No...he wouldn't let it defeat him. He could feel himself being sucked back in, but he would not allow it. Not now, not after twelve years...

He closed and locked the cupboard door again, then headed to the fireplace and set about starting a fire with some briquettes and newspapers. The flames were not burning fiercely enough, and so Sirius picked up the half-emptied bottle of wine from his bedside and threw it onto the flames, which began to blaze a little harder. He then carefully put the iron cauldron-stand into the fire. Glancing down at his hands, he realised they were trembling slightly; he clenched them to stop it, and strode back to the cupboard, where he stared once more at his potion. Sirius had never been particularly skilled at potions, but he had had a long time to work on this one...

Carefully, terrified that he would drop it, Sirius carried the small cauldron to the fire and placed it on the stand. Then he watched with bated breath as the blue liquid began to bubble and boil...and as it began to give off a blue-tinged smoke, which smelt oddly fresh as it filled Sirius' nostrils. He stepped backed hastily, unsure what effects the potion would have on a human...he retreated to the far corner of the room, just as the air began to sizzle.

He saw Bellatrix's face as he fell through the archway...he saw Harry running towards him, his mouth open in a never-ending roar of terror...he saw Remus' pain and sorrow...and then everything that had happened beyond the veil began to play in his mind, as all around him, the curse that had followed him since that day began to wither and die...

Suddenly, Sirius felt a sharp pain in his forehead...slowly it spread through his face, into his neck, through his whole trunk, reaching the soles of his feet. He dropped to his knees in agony, but it was the agony of victory, because he this was how he felt when the curse had been laid, and now, he knew, he was being set free. He could see the blue smoke filling the room now, mingling with hazy veil-like mist that had lingered around Sirius for twelve years.

Suddenly, the entire room lit up, and an ear-piercing scream filled Sirius' head, causing him to roar in pain. A voice, barely audible over the shrieking, whispered in his ear, 'you belong to us Sirius Black. Turn your back on us at your peril.' And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the screaming stopped. Sirius opened his eyes slowly, and it took him several seconds to realise what was different...the mist was gone! He blinked several times, afraid that he was imagining its disappearance...but the potion had worked. The curse was lifted.

Yes, Sirius Black had spent a long time in the dark. But now he was free.

********************************

Sirius' first thought was for Harry. More than anything he wanted to find his godson, and see how life was treating him. He knew, of course, that Harry had been accepted into the Auror Training Programme – the Daily Prophet had covered that at the time – but there had been very little information about Harry Potter in the media in the following years, which, Sirius supposed was a good thing. The Boy Who Lived had served his purpose, and was now free to live as ordinary a life as possible.

But no, he couldn't see Harry for the first time in over a decade while he looked like this. It was a long time since Sirius had looked at himself in a mirror, but he imagined it was not a pretty sight. His robes were worn-out, faded and torn; he had been cutting his hair and beard with a knife all these years; he had no socks, and his shoes were literally falling apart. Come to think of it, he mused, this was how he must have looked when he had first met Harry, in the Shrieking Shack. He smiled to himself, and with one last glance around the room, he opened the door and left his prison.

Arriving at Diagon Alley, Sirius first made a bee-line for Pigglesworth's Barber Shop, which lay at the junction between Diagon Alley and Historic Alley, the old part of the town. There were several other clients already sitting in chairs, with razors, scissors and shaving brushes working on them of their own accord. Seated at a desk at the far end of the room was a short, chubby, balding man, who was sweating profusely, leaving large dark patches all over his grey robes.

'May I help you?' He asked, mopping his brow with a handkerchief as Sirius approached him.

'Haircut please', Sirius replied, while feeling that this was perhaps stating the obvious. Mr. Pigglesworth wrinkled his nose and looked Sirius up and down. 'I'll have to cut it myself', he sighed, 'have a seat, I'll get everything ready.'

Sirius requested a clean shave, and a very short haircut. As he sat there, he realised that Pigglesworth was staring at him intently as he worked. Sirius felt the old sensation of panic rising in his chest, before he remembered that he had been dead for twelve years, and no matter how much Pigglesworth thought he looked like Sirius Black, he would not know that it actually was him. When the barber was done, he stared at himself in the mirror; for a split second, he saw his twenty-five-year-old self, in the days before Voldemort came. He paid the barber quickly and left, not wanting to be drawn into conversation. He then stopped in to Madam Malkin's and bought himself several new sets of robes, and a cloak. He changed into a dark blue set before leaving the shop, paid her and headed onto his next port of call: a wand.

Stepping inside Ollivander's wand shop, Sirius felt as though he were eleven years old again, and about to begin his time at Hogwarts. Silence hung heavy in the air, and specks of dust were visible in the air, caught in the glow of the sunlight. Sirius approached the counter somewhat nervously, and coughed.

'I don't know how you did it, Sirius Black, but once again you have returned to us.' Ollivander stepped forward from amongst the aisles of wands, and fixed Sirius with his pale eyes. Sirius was taken aback. He had known that Ollivander would recognise him, but had not expected him to do so this quickly.

'It's been a long time', Sirius replied, smiling weakly, 'and I need a new wand.'

Ollivander cocked his head to one side, looking curious. 'You have seen much', he stated calmly, 'and you have been far...further from here than most will ever be in life...this will take some time.' Then, he snapped into action, bustling down the aisles, collecting wand boxes from various places. 'I think elm is the wood for you', he called over his shoulder, 'but the core, and the length...that will take some thought.' He piled the boxes in front of Sirius, then gazed at him again. 'You have not aged a day, you know', he remarked, 'since those photos were published for your wanted posters. And that was twelve years ago.'

Sirius nodded and avoided his eyes, not wanting to discuss his business with the wandmaker. He picked up the first box, and removed the wand from inside.

'Unicorn hair, three strands. Ten and a half inches. Elm, naturally', Ollivander informed him. Sirius closed his eyes and grasped the wand tightly. It was so long since he had used a wand, he was afraid that none of them would work for him, but he had to try.

'Lumos', he said loudly. The wand vibrated briefly in his hand, then went still. Ollivander shook his head. 'Try this one', he said eagerly, 'Centaur hoof shavings, eleven inches.'

The same thing happened. 'Not to worry', Ollivander chirped, becoming visibly excited, 'something more unusual...'

Sirius tried no less than thirty-seven wands before Ollivander began to lose confidence. For several minutes, he appeared to be in deep thought, staring intently at the ceiling. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, causing Sirius to jump. Ollivander's eyes were gleaming, and he was grinning from ear to ear. 'I have it', he cried, 'I know what you need!' He disappeared briefly and returned with a red, leather box, and handed it to Sirius.

Sirius opened the box tentatively, and gasped when he saw what lay inside; the wand was almost pure white in colour, with thin gold strands running through it. It was quite long and elegant, and it emitted an energy from the moment that Sirius opened the box.

'Pegasus wing feather', Ollivander said quietly, 'twelve and a half inches. Elm heartwood.'

Sirius stared at the wandmaker in disbelief. 'Pegasus?' he repeated, 'from the myth?'

Ollivander nodded. 'When I went into exile after the return of Voldemort, I travelled far and wide, searching for new, exotic wandcores', he told Sirius. 'In Athens, among the remains of a temple, I found an old wizard who was dying. In his possession, he had one feather from the winged horse Pegasus, who helped Bellepharon to defeat the Chimera, and created springs of water wherever his hooves touched. He requested that I bury him, as he had no family, and in return, he would leave me the feather. So I did what he asked. I put the feather into this wand. Try it.'

With trembling hands, Sirius gripped the wand in his hand. He immediately felt a rush of warmth fill his entire body. 'Lumos', he whispered.

The wand tip slowly began to glow brighter and brighter, until its light almost blinded the two wizards. Sirius felt the power of the wand coursing through him, felt a power that had never been his with any of his old wands.

'It's not just the wand, you know', Ollivander told him, 'you are a more powerful wizard than you were all those years ago. I can feel it within you. With this wand, you will do great things. All that you have seen has made you stronger, it has brought out everything that is good within you. And your strength will be needed in the days to come.'

'What?' Sirius was puzzled, 'what do you mean? What days are to come?'

Ollivander exhaled loudly, and suddenly looked old and worn-out. He met Sirius' eyes sorrowfully. 'The darkness is coming back', he whispered, 'there will be war and blood and vengeance, and wizards pitted against wizards. I can tell you no more. Go, Sirius, and be with your friends. There is not long left before the clouds begin to gather.'

'Please, Ollivander', Sirius begged, a tight knot of fear growing in his stomach once more, 'what are you talking about? Voldemort's dead, I don't understand who you mean!'

'Take the wand and go', Ollivander replied sadly, 'I want no payment, other than that you continue to fight for what is good. Keep Harry Potter safe.'

'What does this have to do with Harry?' Sirius cried, 'please, you have to tell me what this is about!'

At that moment, a woman and a small boy stepped into the shop. 'Hello', said the woman sunnily, 'my little Horace needs a wand!'

Ollivander plastered a smile on his face and with one last warning glance at Sirius, launched into a discussion about Hogwarts houses with the woman.

Sirius debated waiting until the woman left, but something told him that it would do no good. Ollivander would say no more. So leaving the box on the counter, he took the wand and left the musty little shop, with his only thought being how to find his godson, come what may.