Chapter 1

Disclaimer:

This story is based on the Harry Potter series belonging exclusively to J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and no profit is made from it.

The boat drifted softly in the water as I lay with my back against the bow, one hand balanced over my eyes to block out the sun, the other dipping smoothly through the waves. The granules of dried salt stuck enticingly to the fresh varnish, to my hair, my lips. We jolted through another wave, and a small crest splattered my legs and seeped through my jeans, my equilibrium shifting pleasantly.

I peered through a jagged hole in the skiff's side and twisted my right sun-blocking hand through it. The water was cold, almost frozen, and so over salted that when the skiff would bob suddenly to its right, the water would momentarily recede, and I was left with a solid glove. The first time this happened, I pulled my arm back through the rift in the wood, indifferent to the pricks of the splinters as they embedded into my skin, and licked curiously at my thumb. It was a spicy, alluring taste, not unlike cinnamon. Immediately, I engulfed my entire finger, then my hand, and did not cease until the entire substance had vanished. Then, I returned my hand to its position in the crack and slumped again onto the sticky bow.

My armpits were dripping with sweat, and my hair was matted from the varnish. I would have to go to the market tomorrow and fetch some proper, non-generic toiletries. The ones currently in use were irrefutably not up to snuff. I took another disparaging sniff at my shirt and grimaced.

Hmm… what I would not do for some chocolate banana ice cream…

And I drifted…

-

"What do you suppose he dreams about?"

Paul Isely wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, squirming self-consciously in his robes. He only owed the one set, spending the rest of his life in comfortable cotton and denim. There was something about the scratchy wool that most wizarding robes were made from that brought back unpleasant memories from his childhood, of his sneering and obnoxious relatives and their antiquated beliefs.

"Black?" The guard leaned toward the bars, inspecting the prisoner's face with curiosity. He smiled slightly and looked back at Paul.

"Honestly, I haven't a clue. Normally, it's obvious with these bastards, you know, debauchery, bloodshed, and cruelty. Black though…sometimes he murmurs, you know…like he's talking to someone, I think maybe his old friends, from Hogwarts, you know, and then he'll wake up, begging for forgiveness and pleading his innocence. Mostly though…he's like this, just…lost."

The guard shook his head.

"I've only been on duty here for a couple weeks, and I already feel like I've gone just a little bit mad. I can't imagine…eleven years. Not that he doesn't deserve it, just that…you know."

He coughed and cracked back nervously.

"So, then, procedure. I go in, cuff him to that post in the corner, and you stay out here. Then we switch. Sound good?"

Paul nodded from behind him.

The guard unlocked the door and warily approached the sleeping pile of rags in the corner. He nudged him gently with his boot. No movement. Shrugging, he levitated him to the corner, oriented upright, and muttered a spell that handcuffed his two wrists to the stone post. As soon as he released the levitating charm, Black slipped once more to the filthy floor, now with his arms raised awkwardly above his head. The guard scrutinized him for a moment before turning back to Paul.

"Right. As soon as you're ready, then… Stay as far away from him as possible, when you're not…you know."

The guard winced and made an exaggerated motion towards his left forearm.

"I don't think that he'll wake, seems pretty far gone, but if you won't let me stupefy him, I can't guarantee anything."

Paul smiled reassuringly at the guard.

"I'll be fine, don't worry. I worked with him last Thursday without any complications."

Paul lifted his tool case from the dusty floor and passed through to the cell, kneeling hesitantly beside the prisoner. He pushed back the faded sleeve from Black's left forearm and closely inspected the mangy and discolored skin, then opened his black tool case, revealing a variety of medical utensils, a large bottle of antiseptic, and a jug of water. It was for this last that he reached. There was something definitely satisfying about swiping a cotton swab over dirty skin and wiping away the filth.

The guard had lost interest, moving a few paces away and whistling Pickled Newts song to himself. Good. Some people didn't respond well to the sight of other people's blood.

Paul lifted the needle from its treasured hiding spot and placed it against Black's arm, preparing to puncture the skin. He paused momentarily to frown at the unmarked skin. It was so odd, that this notorious Death Eater lacked the macabre tattoo that was present for every one of his comrades. There were many puzzling things about Sirius Black, about this whole situation. He didn't fit into any of the Ministry's precise categories and justifications, and since the Magical Law Enforcement's most recent foray into the past, they hadn't been able to get any useful information out of him.

Unknown to Dumbledore, the Ministry of Magic had indeed been informed of Voldemort's appearance at Hogwarts at the end of the school year and that he had been aided by one of the school's own professors. Not all of Hogwarts' professors were as loyal to the headmaster as he believed, and while they might not betray him to Voldemort, their morals didn't stretch so far as bountiful ministry bribes were concerned. Fudge was still intimidated of Dumbledore's power and influence that he would not publicly act against him, but he had ordered that all of Voldemort's imprisoned Death Eaters be interrogated immediately on the chance that they might have some clue to his whereabouts. So far, there was nothing concrete, and the longer he went without information, the more desperate Fudge became, until he summoned Paul and others like him.

Most wizards avoided squibs as much as possible, especially those like Paul who had chosen to live in the muggle world. He worked for the muggle government as a an intermediary to the Ministry, but he spent most of his time experimenting with their medicine, developing ways to mix potions with muggle practices to achieve better results. But, of course, rather than be used to heal people, his methods were more often used for things like this…

He plunged the needle a little harsher than necessary into the blood vessel.

Black gasped, and Paul was suddenly staring into the startled black eyes of a murderer.

"What the hell…"

Black moaned and yanked his arm away, disrupting the needle and causing Paul to blink up at him.

"Hello Black. Could you please cooperate for a few minutes? I only have two to give you, and then we'll be done for today"

Black swallowed and sucked in his greasy cheeks, his eyes calculating. He darted his eyes quickly to the guard, then back to Paul.

"Tell me more, like the last time. Please…"

Isely closed his eyes. This was wrong. He had a job to do, and while he didn't condone the Ministry's techniques for dealing with prisoners, Black had slaughtered thirteen innocent people without remorse.

"Please. Just a little bit more... I need to know. It's my right. He's my responsibility!"

Black had leaned forward, his face inches from Paul, his eyes burning.

"Fine."

Black licked his lips in anticipation, his eyes even brighter. He braced his feet against the floor, pushing himself closer, so that Isely could whisper and be heard.

"But only if you cooperate."

A quick nod.

"So, I already told you, my niece is a forth year Hufflepuff, so they don't often cross paths." He sanitized the skin again, this time gently forcing the needlepoint in and smoothly siphoning off blood.

"Still, sees more of him than I do, doesn't she? And I'm his godfather."

Isely didn't look up from the blood work, stifling his reply. He had chosen to interact with Black of his own free will because it was unlikely that he would ever leave Azkaban, or meet Harry Potter. The least he could do was show him some human compassion…

"Have I told you about the Hufflepuff game yet? Janie, my niece, was so upset afterwards. Her boyfriend's on the team, a chaser, and when Gryffindor beat them in under ten minutes, he wouldn't stop sulking for a month."

The blood work was done. He moved over to his improvised workstation and slowly deposited the blood in a jar partially filled with a clear potion. He put it off to the side and looked up into Black's gleaming eyes, a grin slipping onto his face.

"I'm not sure if he intended to do it, but rather than catch the snitch with his hand like a normal boy, he swallowed it, and by the time anyone else noticed, there he was in the middle of the pitch, coughing it up."

He started to prepare the injection, a mixture of Veritaserum and muscle relaxant, to ready Black for his next visitor. When he returned to the prisoner, Black was staring, fixated on the needle.

"I'm sorry."

He always felt awful at this moment, but at least Black would be comfortable as the aurors questioned him.

"That's alright. So am I."

Before Paul could react, Black lurched forward, crashing their foreheads together, and then, his legs locked around Paul's neck, crashed his head into the solid stonewall.

The guard had entered the cell, raising his wand to curse Black and yelling fiercely, but in the place of the ragged prisoner, there was a great black dog, his yellowing teeth bared. In the instant of shock at the dog's sudden appearance, Black slipped his narrow paws through their fastenings and leapt. The beast's momentum crashed into the guard, knocking the wind from his chest. The massive jaws latched onto the guard's hand, gouging into the skin, and he howled and dropped his wand. With one strong swipe to the head from the dog's front paw, the guard joined Paul Isely in oblivion

The dog wobbled up from his perch atop the guard and grasped the wand from the floor with his teeth. A moment later, a human Sirius Black surveyed the damage he had caused. He stunned the guard to ensure a head start and then limped over to Paul. He was bleeding slightly and would surely have a splitting headache when he woke, but his breathing was deep and regular.

"I really am sorry." Sirius Black leaned over Paul, wiping some of the blood off his forehead.

"You've shown a great deal more kindness to me in the past few weeks than I've probably deserved, and this isn't exactly the best way to repay you for it. You understand why I must do it, though, I know you do. You would have done the same for that niece you care about so much. It's my duty to protect him, my responsibility…"

Mindful not to injure Paul Isely's body any more than he already had, Sirius dragged him so that he was lying next to the guard, and then, with one last deep breath, he blasted a hole through the prison wall and jumped into the frigid sea two stories below.

-

Remus Lupin sat anxiously at his kitchen table, reading and rereading the front page of the Daily Prophet, his morning tea clutched in his right hand. He was normally a calm man, melancholy, yes, but never particularly nervous or frenzied. This, however, this was too much! He had never imagined, never thought…He took a deep breath, leaning his head against the table.

Just then, the fireplace sparked and a flame formed even from the logs stationed there. There was a polite pause during which Remus collected himself and sat on a worn pillow before the face of Albus Dumbledore appeared. From what Remus could see, he was elegantly clad in dark blue robes, an unusual choice for the normally flamboyant professor. His expression was grave, his eyes dull.

"Hello, Remus. I'm terribly sorry for so rudely interrupting your breakfast, but I'm afraid it's quite urgent."

Remus nodded, encouraging the old headmaster.

"Is this about him? About…Black?"

"Yes. I need you to come to Hogwarts immediately. We believe that Black has kidnapped Harry Potter. He disappeared last night, shortly after receiving a Ministry notification of underage magic use. At the time, Black's escape had not yet been revealed, so the Ministry didn't send anyone to check on the situation, and by the time the wards informed me that he had left, it was too late. We need any information you have, no matter how irrelevant it might seem, about Black and where he might be hiding."

Remus stared blankly at the headmaster, trying in vain to process everything. After all that had happened, he still could not bring himself to believe that Sirius, his best friend, the man who had spent five years mastering the animagus transformation, would ever want to hurt an innocent twelve year old boy.

"I'm sorry to give you this burden, my dear boy, I know your life hasn't been easy these past few years. I was actually planning a visit to you before the escape, wondering if maybe you'd finally be willing to accept my offer. We need you more than ever now. The only person who's shown any interest is Gilderoy Lockhart, and you and I both know he's a fraud. You always showed an unusual acumen for defense, and I suspect you would make a gifted and attentive professor."

Remus' jaw hardened and he nodded once firmly. If Sirius had really resorted to kidnapping children, perhaps it was his responsibility to teach them how to defend themselves.

"I'll do it, and Professor, there's something I need to tell you, that I should have told you a long time ago, but was too ashamed…"