AN: Hi! This is my first HP fanfic, so please don't flame! Just some background knowledge: No one knows about Voldie, yet. This takes place when he's just beginning to gain followers, all of whom are very tightlipped about him. The only sign of his existence is that about once every couple months, a ministry official will disappear. None of the officials have been found and the ministry isn't worried… yet! MWAHAHA! Sorry, I'm kinda hyper right now… Anyway, enjoy (hopefully)! Oh, and Siri isn't meant to be completely sane… He's actually quite… strange… in this.

DISCLAIMER: Yes, I own Harry Potter. No, I'm not a compulsive liar.

Summary: Sirius Orion Black, the young, abused heir to the Black family, lives in constant fear of his parents' rage. His life changes, however, after a brief meeting with a man only identified as "The Artist". He is thrust into a world of espionage, deceit and treachery, all the while gaining enemies and, for the first time in his life, allies.

"Easy, Siri," The boy mumbled softly to himself. "Easy, easy,"

He was limping down the deserted streets of London, his left arm cradled to his chest and eyes wide and wary as he glanced frantically around. His breath was shallow and figure slumped, in a desperate attempt to seem smaller.

"Easy, easy," He repeated. "Just a little bit farther… Come on, you can do this. You're almost there," At that, all of his terror seemed to evaporate. He let out a loud, barking laugh that bounced off the walls vibrantly. "Where? Where am I almost to?" He managed out in between chuckles. His maniacal laughter slowly died down and he slid down against the wall, one of his legs sticking out at an awkward angle. "Shit, Siri, where am I going?"

Silence.

He gave a small chuckle. "You know, it would be nice if I could get an answer."

Silence.

"It doesn't even have to be an exact address. A general direction would be swell."

Silence.

When the boy spoke again, it was without any trace of humor. His eyes were downcast and vulnerable. "Guess that's a no, huh?"

He drew his good leg close to his body and his expression became guarded and blank.

"Now, Siri, where are you going? You've got no money, no friends, no family," He paused, "or at least none that'll give a shit," Another pause, "no place to go and no way to get there," An ironic smile graced his lips. "Looks like I've just got a whole lot of nothing, huh?"

And so the boy sat there, too afraid to move forward and too afraid to go back. Until, as it happens rarely, a miracle occurred.

What defines a miracle?

The dictionary explains it as an event or action that is totally amazing, extraordinary, or unexpected. Religious people believe it to be an act of God that is unexplainable by science. Philosophers insist that it is humankind's definition for the indefinable.

Sirius Orion Black, for that was the boy's name, however, had never read the dictionary.

He had never believed in God nor heard a debate over philosophy or morality.

All he knew about miracles was that they simply existed and tended to skip him over. He had heard people speak of them in hushed voices, he had sensed the raw excitement in their voices, he had seen their smiles, yet he had never experienced one of his own.

He had never been surprised by a coincidence that seemed completely illogical in its appearance.

He had never been truly happy and shocked by a turn of events in his favor.

He had never been truly happy in his entire life, in fact.

But this is much too early to explain that. This is where the miracle must come into play, for the minute Sirius finished his melancholy monologue, a large pop sounded and a man appeared in front of him. Without pausing even to steady himself, the man started walking in the opposite direction.

"Excuse me? Sir?" Sirius felt himself call.

The man froze and his hand clutched something in his pocket.

"If I were you, I'd be careful where you appear. This is a muggle street," He cocked an eyebrow at the man's back in a silent challenge for him to turn around.

Apparently, Sirius's telepathy paid off as the man whipped around.

Sirius blinked twice and squinted at his face, or rather, the mask covering it. "What's with the mask?"

The man was abnormally average, at least in his build. For all Sirius knew, he could have neon green hair, blue skin and a large scar in the shape of a smiley face. Sirius had to suppress an immature giggle at the mental image he conjured up for the disguised man.

The aforementioned man appeared to be playing the silent game with himself, as he continued to stare blankly at Sirius.

"I mean, I've only seen people wear those masks when they're one of the Knights, and I know you aren't."

"How can you be so sure?" Confusion glinted in the man's eyes.

"He speaks," Sirius gave a small grin. "First of all, I've never seen you. Second of all, you haven't nabbed me yet. Third of all, you just… aren't."

"What's your name, kiddo?"

"What's yours?

The man chuckled. "I suppose you can call me 'The Artist'."

"And I suppose you can call me 'The Architect'."

"Where's your building?"

"Where's your painting?"

The man chuckled again. "Touché, kiddo, touché."

"So, Mr. Artist, what is with the mask?" Sirius attempted again.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," The man laughed humorlessly.

"Some things are worth dieing for."

"Such as the knowledge of my mask?" He asked quizzically.

"I'm a rather curious kid."

"I could tell. So, Architect, what're you doing out here at this hour? Where're your parents?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Sirius shot back.

"Well, kiddo, I have a deal for you. You tell me your name and I'll tell you why I have the mask."

Sirius glared distrustfully at him. "You go first."

"It's my deal. I think you should," The man protested.

"Who's to say you won't welch?" Sirius deepened his glare.

"No one. You're just going to have to take a leap of faith."

Sirius grimaced. "I don't have faith."

"You better get some, if you want to know where I got my mask."

"Sirius," He conceded. "Sirius Orion Black,"

"Well," The Artist outstretched his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sirius."

After a long pause, the boy slowly shook hands.

"I got the mask from your father just a few minutes ago, actually. I'm a new member of the Knights," The Artist admitted.

Sirius yanked his hand away and slid backwards. "Don't touch me," His eyes were wide with terror. "Stay away from me!"

"Easy, Sirius," The Artist said in an attempt to pacify the boy. "Easy. Calm down. I'm not really a member," He lowered his voice. "I'm actually a spy."

"Really?" Sirius asked distrustfully.

"Really," The Artist winked conspiratorially. "Just don't tell your mother."

"I don't tell the hag anything," Sirius said proudly.

"Good," The Artist looked deep in thought. "I think I may have another deal for you, Sirius."

"I'm listening."

"If you go to the house of a friend I have and do what he tells you to, I'll tell you my name someday," The Artist paused. "Do we have a deal?"

Sirius groaned. "Do I have to go first, again?"

The man laughed. "Yes, unfortunately."

Sirius screwed up his face in thought. "I'll go to the house," He finally decided. "I'm not doing what he says 'til I know what it is, though."

"Smart boy," The Artist gave an approving nod.

Sirius shrugged. "So, how do I get to this house?"

"Do you have a wand?"

Sirius bit back a snarky comment and nodded.

"Just stick it out. You want to end up at Potter Manor. Tell the man at the door that Kristen wants you to check up on him. Say it in a cockney accent," The Artist paused. "I'll be sure to remember your advice on apparating on muggle streets."

"Wai-"

POP!

"-t!" Too late. Sirius blinked twice. But how was he supposed to get to the house?

He growled in frustration. DAMN IT! All of his good self-pity down the drain due to some damn curiosity over the damn Artist's damn words.

"Sod it all," He took out his wand. "Damn it all," He mumbled murderously. An irritated glare was sent towards his wand. "You aren't gonna answer me, huh?"

BANG!

"… Or are you?"

AN: Most cliché ending on earth, I know, but DO try to forgive me. Also, if you want to guess who the Artist is, PM me, don't review it… You might guess right and give it away to everyone who reads the review… so… yeah. THIS IS NOT AU! Jamie and Remy and Pete will all appear, well, I'm a bit undecided about Peter. I'll write him in IF I can do him justice. I hate it when people write him as a sniveling coward, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to do any better. Also, there is a very high probability that I'll randomly loose interest without warning. I'm sorry if it happens, but I get writer's block very often. And as for Siri's weird personality thing, I'm trying to have him come with two very different sides, both of which are shown in the chapter. I think of them as the Child and the Teenager. The Teenager is the "tougher" exterior that pretends not to care about anyone. It's distrustful, dishonest and petulant. The Child, however, shows much less often and is very naïve. It's shown when Sirius is quick to believe the Artist about the whole spy thing… I just wanted to clear that up and say that the Child will come out very often in the presence of the Artist.

PLEASE REVIEW! I am willing to bribe with cookies…