I'm back! Yay! Though I'm afraid I have some bad news... I know that a lot of you requested slash, and I was going to do it, until an actual plot line popped into my head... Unfortunately, this plot line does not include slash, or any romance for that matter. I'm really sorry about that. Hope you can forgive me. Another apology: this chapter is kind of shit. It's really only a filler so it's pretty boring, but I know it's been ages and I wanted to send something out. Again, sorry...

The walk to Bree was a short one, and Harry would have even found it quite enjoyable if not for the small detail of the dress-like shirt he was wearing; indeed, on numerous occasions he found himself having to walk with his arms stuck firmly to his sides in order to prevent any flashing on his part, something which Sirius found thoroughly amusing. They managed to arrive in Bree when the afternoon was still young and, for this, Strider was extremely grateful, as he did not wish to spend the night in the town.

When Harry first entered Bree he was immediately reminded of Hogsmeade, though a much more run-down and bleak version. It soon became obvious to him that the main difference was the people. In Hogsmeade it was not possible to walk down a street without being greeted cheerily, whether by a wave and hello, or simply just a good-natured smile.

Here in Bree, though, things were not so pleasant. The three had only just made it to the gate when they had been stopped by the gatekeeper. He was a short, stocky man, as were all the native Bree men, whose mean little eyes had narrowed in suspicion as soon as he had spotted them. 'Where do you think you're going, Ranger?' he asked snidely. 'And who are these two? Finally got yerself a lady friend, eh, Strider?' The man eyed Harry's 'dress' with a smug look on his pudgy face. 'Listen here-' he said sharply, pointing his finger at Strider, 'Bob may let 'your kind' in through this here gate, but I ain't gonna let scum like you come in here and dirty this town.'

Strider's face had remained impassive throughout the tirade but his eyes had taken on a dangerous glint which Harry did not miss, and neither, it seemed, did the gatekeeper. 'We all know that you are going to let us through, Ned, as you have done the past two times after you have tried to deny me. So why don't you stop wasting our time, and your's, and let us pass.' It was not a question; but a statement. All of Ned's previous bravado was seemingly put on for show, as he nodded meekly and stepped out of the way. Though not before glaring daggers at Strider.

'Mind who you've taken up with, there,' he sneered, turning to Harry and Sirius. 'You don't want to be seen with the likes of him.'

'Let's go, Harry,' Sirius muttered, following Strider into the town.

As Harry passed through the narrow, cobbled streets he couldn't help but notice that many people were treating them with much the same aversion as the gatekeeper had. People were doing their best to avoid getting too close to them, and they were greeted with the same sly, suspicious glances.

'So, what kind of guy do you think we've taken up with?' Sirius asked Harry, while keeping his eyes fixed on Strider who was walking ahead. 'I mean, he's obviously a pretty nasty character, else the whole town wouldn't be going out of their way to avoid him.'

'I don't know...' Harry replied unsurely. 'I think that people have just got the wrong impression of him.' Sirius looked at him confusedly. 'It's like with me and the Daily Prophet: they've been spreading lies about me all year, and because of that, most wizards treat me exactly like this.'

Sirius gave Harry an odd look before saying: 'You're a pretty wise kid, Harry. And I know I say this all the time; but you remind me so much of your parents. Though, I'm starting to think that there's a lot more Lily in you than there is James. She, too, always tried to see the good in everyone.' Sirius's gaunt face broke into a proud smile, briefly giving Harry a glimpse of the man he had been before Azkaban.

Strider lead them away from the main road, following a series of narrow, twisting paths until, at last, the crooked road opened up into a dark, unsettling courtyard. A large fountain stood in the centre; its once beautifully sculptured design had crumpled into ruin. The smell of burning insence quickly engulfed Harry. The source of the acrid smell was coming from a shop straight in front of him which was owner to a number of strange and disturbing items.

Hanging from the window frame and doorway were numerous crudely-made windchimes; old, rotting bones dangling from the ends of each piece of string. The sound of the bones clunking together in the afternoon breeze penetrated the otherwise deathly silence of the stone courtyard.

Displayed in the window Harry could see a selection of mean-looking daggers, each with a horridly sharp, curved blade. The dim light of the sun glinted off of the serrated edges which ran their length down into the handles made from yellowing bone. And fitting in with the many other bones was the skull of a stag, standing proudly in the centre of the disturbing display.

The dark little shop grimly reminded Harry of Diagon Alley, and looking around the deserted courtyard, that was definitely where Harry felt he was. Indeed, looking over at Sirius, whose face was drawn in disgust, Harry could tell that his godfather was thinking along the same lines.

Suddenly, a phlegmy chuckle, soon followed up by a cough, issued from within the dark, open doorway of the shop. 'Yer boys don't seem to like my shop too much, Strider.' Peering into the gloom Harry could just make out a pair of beady, black eyes staring straight at him. 'What's wrong, boys? Never seen a couple o' skulls before, eh?'

Strider's eyes closed wearily, almost as if he was bracing himself. 'Afternoon, Hazel. We are just passing through. We did not mean to disturb you.' Another deep, phlegmy chuckle followed this and the creaking sound of something heavy being lifted from an old wooden chair came from inside. A hagard old woman appeared on the doorstep of the shop. Her ancient face was folded into countless creases and lines, and a pair of tiny eyes just barely looked out from within their sunken sockets. Thin lips were drawn in a tight sneer, revealing rotted brown teeth protruding from blackened gums.

Eyes which had previously been closely examining Harry suddenly snapped back to Strider. 'You found me any more bones yet?'

'Sorry, Hazel. Not this time.' Strider made to leave but a mottled, bony hand latched itself onto his arm. Long, crusty, grey nails dug themselves into his flesh. Strider automatically reached for the dagger at his waist but then seemed to think better of it as he let his hand fall to his side.

'Remember; I'll pay you handsomely!'

Strider shook his head slowly all the while trying to subtly free his arm from Hazel's grip. 'I have nothing for you, Hazel. I'm sorry.'

The old woman visciously retracted her claw-like nails from Strider's arm. 'Well what use are you then, eh? You know I don't like to be disturbed unless you've got business for me! Or has all that dirt you carry around with you got itself stuck between yer ears?'

'Again, I apologise, Hazel. I'm only here to see Bertie today.'

Hazel once again ran her sharp pair of eyes over Harry. 'That be for yer boys, I suppose?' She suddenely let out a wicked cackle which soon had her bent over and coughing into her withered hands. 'What you doin' going around with two young men, eh, Strider?' she asked between raspy laughs. 'Found yerself some friends, eh?'

'Indeed,' muttered Strider impatiently, as he drew up his sleeve to inspect his arm for damage. 'We really must be leaving now, Hazel,' he said, at last, pulling his sleeves down over the angry, red marks which had been pierced into his skin.

Hazel's raspy laugh vanished as quickly as it had came, the sound of metal being drawn repeatedly across a rock was gone, to be replaced with the eerie silence of the courtyard. 'Fine!' she snapped harshly, her beady eyes glaring out from within their dark sockets. 'Fine! Get out of here, you worthless piece of scum! I don't need you, or yer business! You here me?' Large, angry veins bulged out from her creased forehead and her lipless mouth was drawn in a viscious snarl. Gnarly hands clutched the sides of the doorframe as if they were the only things holding her up. She reminded Harry of a rabid dog, and he quickly stepped back to stand beside Sirius.

Strider merely gave her a look of pity before turning and walking from her shop. Harry and Sirius were quick to follow; leaving behind the snarling woman. 'Don't you dare show yer face here again, Longshanks! You here me? Never again!' The heavy sound of a door slamming could be heard from behind them.

'She says the same thing everytime,' Strider sighed.

'What's wrong with her?' Harry asked, trying to keep up with the Ranger's fast pace.

'She's old,' replied Strider grimly.

Harry could hear Sirius mutter behind him, 'Reminds me of my dear old mum.'

Strider led them down to a battered-looking little shop which was tucked away in the corner of the desolate courtyard. Its brown-painted walls were peeling and flaking off and the small window was bordered up from the inside. A rusty old sign swung from over the doorframe. It read: ''Barliman's Supplies'' in faded white paint.

Strider pushed open the rusty door and the tinkling of a bell sounded. Harry and Sirius followed Strider into the dimly-lit room, a cobweb-covered gas lamp providing the only source of light. The floor of the small room was covered in large piles of clothes which seemed to have no order to them whatsoever. All types of shoes, ranging from sandals to heavy leather boots, were littered across the floor.

The sound of shuffling feet could be heard coming from another room, and a short, balding man entered from the door behind the counter. 'Strider,' he nodded in greeting. His voice was low and rough and mirrored the seriousness that was set in his deep, brown eyes. 'Haven't seen you in a while. How're things?'

'Same as always, Bertie,' Strider answered absentmindedly, surveying the contents of the surrounding room. Strider's eyes snapped back to the shopkeeper, Bertie. 'How are things here?'

'Oh, you know how it goes: my business crumples to ruin while Barliman's only gets better,' Bertie replied bitterly. 'If I had been born but fifteen minutes earlier the Pony would've been mine. But such is life.' He sighed and rubbed a meaty hand across his forehead. 'So what can I do for you today, Strider? Though I don't really think I need to ask,' he added, looking over at Harry and Sirius with a smirk.

'You guessed right, Bertie. These two need to be clothed,' Strider said, taking a seat on an armchair which was overrun with clothes in the corner.

'That'll be no problem. Just need to get some measurements first.' Bertie retrieved a long tape measure from his desk drawer and then proceeded to measure the two wizards. Strider, meanwhile, had found a battered old book on the floor beside him and was absentmindedly flicking through its worn pages.

'Both a bit on the skinny side, aren't yeh?'

'Hmm,' Harry agreed, while Sirius glared at the portly shopkeeper.

'Right, so what'll yeh be needing then?'

'Er...' Sirius looked over at Strider who looked up from his book.

'They'll be needing a pair of boots each. Good boots,' he added firmly. 'We have a lot of walking ahead of us. Also, a cloak each, as well as a shirt and a pair of breeches for the shorter one.'

'Shorter one?' Sirius exclaimed, stepping up to defend his godson. 'He has a name, you know!'

'I am well aware that he has a name, Sirius,' replied Strider calmly, continuing to flick through the book. 'However, as Bertie is not aware as to what that name is I decided to help him out a little. I merely opted to take a, shall we say, ''shortcut''?' Strider turned his cool grey eyes on Harry. 'I apologize if I have offended you, Harry. That was not my intention.' He looked back down at his book once more, but Harry could have sworn he saw the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sirius glared at the man furiously. His hands were clenched at his sides and he looked ready to punch the Ranger in the face. The fact that Strider was continuing to calmly flick through the pages only seemed to infuriate him more.

'I'd leave it if I were you,' muttered Bertie to Sirius. 'C'mon; let's get you two sorted.'

One hour later and Harry was finally wearing proper clothes. His new red shirt and trousers fit him perfectly, and the leather boots were surprisingly comfortable. Sirius, too, had fallen in love with his new set, claiming that he had always had a thing for tight, black leather.

Bertie was situated behind the counter counting up the cost on his small piece of paper. 'Right, Strider. That's going to cost you fifteen sliver pieces. Strider began to rummage around in the many inner pockets of his coat, pulling out everything from scraps of paper to a bundle of string. At last he seemed to find what he was looking for, as he pulled out a cloth pouch and emptied its contents on the table.

Silver and bronze coins clattered onto the table which Strider quickly began to sort. He counted out eight silver coins from the pile and the rest were bronze. Harry did not know this strange new world's currency, but it was pretty clear to him that Strider was not going to have enough. It seemed that the Ranger knew this too, as he started to pat down his coat in search of more money. 'I'm afraid that's all I've got, Bertie,' he said, finally giving up his search.

Bertie sighed and began to count the bronze coins. 'That's nine silver and twenty bronze you have there. I can see that you're not going to be able to pay up this time, Strider,' he said slowly. 'Right, I'm going to let you off for now because I trust you. But I still expect you to pay me.'

'I can't thank you enough, Bertie,' Strider sighed, stuffing the string and paper back into his pockets. 'I will pay you back as soon as I am able.'

Bertie scraped the money into his hands. 'You're just lucky I'm not as prejudiced as the rest of this town.'

'Don't I know it.'

As soon as they had finished Strider led them away from the creepy courtyard and out of Bree town altogether. Harry actually found himself pleased to be shot of the town; he got enough disgusted looks thrown at him back at Hogwarts. As night began to approach Strider found them a safe resting place, and they set up camp. Harry was far too exhuasted from the extremely unusual day to even give a second thought to the fact that he was sleeping outside in nothing but the clothes on his back, in a strange new world and with a man he had only met that very same morning. Added to that was the fact that every other person they had met that day seemed to regard this stranger as a criminal, and it did not help that his godfather seemed to share these feelings of hatred for the man.

But Harry was far too tired to think on any of this, and he closed his exhausted eyes, the dark form of Strider sitting in the dying light, keeping gaurd, the last thing he saw before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I know, I hate fillers too. But we just have to get past them, there's no avoiding them. So, I'm afraid it's that time of year again: exam season. Anyone reading this who still goes to school will understand. Unfortunately that means that I will unlikely be updating until late June when everything's finished and I finally have some free time. I know this is a pretty shitty place to leave things but I wanted to give you something seeing as I'll be gone for ages. Anyways, I'd really appreciate reviews. And thanks to all those who have already done so! Really appreciate it, guys! :-D