Chapter Four

"Harry!" Sirius' hand trembled on the mirror. "Harry, are you all right? Are you safe? Where are you?"

Harry's voice came out warily from the blur in the mirror. "Are you Padfoot?"

Sirius' voice caught. "Yeah. Yes, I'm Padfoot. Are you safe?"

"I'm fine. How do I get me and my trunk from one place to another if I have a wand and a broomstick?"

Sirius blinked, thrown. "Apparate. No! No, you're too young for that, don't you dare even try it. Take the Knight Bus. And remember, don't give your name and hide that scar. Harry, please –"

"Where do I catch the night bus?"

"Oh. It's like... thumbing a lift. With your wand. Stick it out in the street and the bus'll appear."

"Thanks. Where's the off switch on the mirror?"

"Harry, please..."

"No offence, Padfoot, but I don't know you and there's a couple of psychopaths after me. Where is it?"

Sirius opened his mouth to protest that he was NOT a psychopath but caught himself just in time. "Say 'mischief managed', and blame your dad for that password." He pressed the surface of the mirror against his forehead as the blurry image of his godson swirled and went dark. "Harry... oh, Harry, you really need to trust me..."

Fifteen minutes later, when Elen had come back into the room and was attempting to cheer Sirius up, the mirror activated again. Sirius snatched it up the instant it chimed, pushing Elen aside.

"Harry. What do you need?"

The blur hesitated and glanced to the left. "Who's your friend?"

"My friend?" Sirius went cold. Oh no. Elen's also been all over the news, Muggle and magical. What do I call him?

Elen was also thinking frantically. I need a name that sounds like it belongs with Padfoot; we can't have him questioning that name.

"My name is Starling. And you are Harry." Elen's voice was deliberately quiet. Sirius suspected that it was to keep Harry from noticing it trembling. "What did you need?"

"Um. I just wanted to thank you for telling me about the bus."

Elen looked pleadingly at Sirius, who caught the conversational ball, astonished that Elen had even picked it up in the first place. Starling's a bloody strange name to pluck out of thin air, but at least I'm unlikely to forget it. "You're welcome, Harry. Are you somewhere safe now?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, I'm safe, Padfoot." A long, awkward pause. "What do you know about Riddle and Black?"

Sirius choked. Maybe we didn't think this through well enough. Elen groped nervously for and found his hand under the table, looking at him with scared eyes; obviously the three sentences he'd already spoken were going to be his only contribution to the conversation for the time being. Merlin's deep-fried beard, we are in trouble. Um. Strategy: stall him and wing it while he's talking. "What do you know already?"

"They're wizards, they escaped from prison, they belong to Voldemort, and they want me dead. Black's a mass murderer and Riddle's – actually, I haven't quite figured out what he did. I grabbed a paper on the way in here, but it kept talking about somebody named Dorian Gray instead of Riddle himself for some reason. I didn't hear the Muggle news properly because he looks so much like Tom and it freaked me out –"

"Tom?" Who the heck is Tom?

"Tom Riddle. Voldemort's real name. His memory told me when it released the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets last year and almost killed me... Starling, what's –?"

Sirius had reacted almost before Harry had spoken, skidding around the table to catch Elen, who had collapsed, clawing at his head, his wild magic roiling and sending his body rapidly into spasm. It's not lashing out, but even I can see that's only because it doesn't have a target. Thank Merlin, thank Merlin that Harry is not physically here! "Starling, shhh, shhhhh, calm down, please calm down... hush..." He pulled Elen into his lap as he took a seat on the floor, holding Elen's wildly-jerking wrists firmly in one hand and stroking his head with the other. "Shh-hhh."

Harry was staring out of the mirror, appalled. "Padfoot? What's wrong with him?"

Sirius sighed and glanced up at the mirror. "Starling's been badly abused, Harry. His magic's still completely instinctual because he's never been taught how to use it, and it's turned savagely overprotective because he's almost never been around people who don't want to hurt him. That is what's trying to protect him from whatever's triggered it this time, and this is what happens when it does. I'm immune, thank Merlin with all my heart for that, but nobody else would be safe." He turned back to Elen, then suddenly snapped his head straight up to stare at Harry, horrified. "You almost got killed by a basilisk that Lord Snakeface's memory set on Hogwarts last year?" Without looking, he caught Elen's left hand, which had slipped free and returned to his face, replacing it against Elen's right wrist and shifting his grip to restrain him completely. "What on earth's been going on there? Oh no, come on, Starling, hush, hush-hush. You're safe, remember? Come back. Shhhhhh. Harry. What happened?"

"Yeah, a basilisk," Harry said distractedly over Padfoot's attempts to soothe Starling, squinting at the fuzzy shapes in his mirror. I didn't know that magic would go out of control if the wizard was abused, and now I wish I still didn't know. That's horrific. Poor Starling...

But they're obviously legit. No follower of Voldemort would ever call him Lord Snakeface – it just wouldn't occur to them and they'd never dare even if it did – and there's no way in the world that Voldemort or any of his followers would take care of someone as fragile as Starling the way that Padfoot's doing right now. They'd be more likely to spare themselves the trouble and just murder him. "It's a long story and I'll tell you later. I'll just upset Starling if I stay, so after I go you can calm him down. He obviously trusts you if he's letting you hold him like that. Can you use the mirror to call me?"

Sirius looked up quickly. "Yes, but Harry, we have to talk... you don't understand..."

"Padfoot, I'm fine. I'm safe. And I can wait. Starling needs you right now and you can't help him if I'm distracting you. Call me back. Mischief managed."

Harry was getting worried by the time the mirror chimed. There is no way that Starling was in control of that – what if it hurt Padfoot somehow? But Padfoot seemed fine, if tired. "Harry, just –"

"Are you all right? And Starling?"

Padfoot broke off what he'd been going to say. "Yes, I'm fine. I was the one to rescue Starling from the abuse and he knows with every fibre of his being that I'd never hurt him. My best guess is that this made me immune to his magic because it doesn't see the need to protect him from me. He's asleep upstairs, completely exhausted. That was a bad fit because his magic didn't have a target to unleash on and therefore backlashed. But Harry, you have to listen to me, and please hear me out, all right? It's going to sound insane, but I swear on my magic that what I am going to tell you is true."

"Okay…"

"You know how I told you not to contact the Weasleys? Well, this is why. Their rat is a Death Eater – Wormtail, the man I told you about. And he's been biding his time. He always was a little coward, but if he ever hears that Voldemort's regaining strength, you'll be dead."

"You're right." Harry almost laughed. He may not follow Voldemort, but he's nuttier than five squirrels' stashes put together. "It's completely insane. Scabbers is just a rat."

"Who's lived for at least twelve years. Harry, do you know how long rats live? Four years. Tops. Even specially-bred wizarding varieties only live to seven or so. Besides, I recognised him."

"You recognised a rat." Maybe Starling did some damage after all. Either that, or Padfoot never had a firm grasp on sanity in the first place.

Sirius closed his eyes for a long moment. This is not going well. "Your dad and I were best friends all through Hogwarts – this is relevant, I promise – and there were two other Gryffindor boys in our year. There was Peter Pettigrew – Wormtail – and there was Remus Lupin, who was… who had a little problem. So we all became Animagi to help with that. Your father was a stag."

"You're an Animagi?"

"Animagus. Yes." Sirius transformed into Padfoot and lolled his tongue out, then turned back. "And Wormtail was a rat. That rat."

This is still crazy. But if people can turn into animals… "So Wormtail's not his real name. Is Padfoot your real name?"

Shit. And I can't lie, not after that oath. "It's my nickname. Please, Harry, please just listen."

Padfoot isn't Sirius Black. He can't be. He doesn't support Voldemort. And there's no way that Starling is Elen Riddle. Riddle's a leader, not a follower, and Starling depends heavily on Padfoot. The dynamic's completely off. "I'm listening."

"Thank you. Well. After school, Lily and James knew that Voldemort was after them. He tried to recruit them and they told him to sod off, and you can imagine how well Voldemort took that one. So they went into hiding under the Secret-Keeper charm. Everyone thought I was the Secret-Keeper, but we switched, and nobody knew but me, Wormtail, and your parents. I was the decoy, but he was the Keeper and he was the spy and he betrayed your parents to Voldemort, and then when I went after him he blew up the street… and I was arrested."

Oh, no. No. This cannot be happening. "You're Sirius Black." I don't believe this. I don't. He doesn't support Voldemort!

Sirius bowed his head. "Yes. I am Sirius Black. But I didn't betray Lily and James, and I didn't kill anyone, Harry, I swear! I would have died for James! I didn't betray him!"

I must be absolutely mental, but I actually believe him… almost. "And Riddle just took advantage of your escape to slip out too?"

"What? No. Harry, we escaped together. Elen hasn't done anything! He didn't even know who Voldemort was when I rescued him. His best guess at why he was imprisoned, and I quote, was that he'd been locked up because 'Vol-something'… wait for it… was his mother."

Harry couldn't prevent himself from bursting out laughing at this, and he couldn't get control back for almost five minutes. Every time he thought he'd stopped, the mental image of Voldemort as a female would set him off again. But then a realisation hit him.

"He is Starling, isn't he?"

Sirius smiled. "Yes, Harry. Elen is Starling."

"You said Starling's magic was wild because he was abused."

Sirius went quiet and still. "Azkaban…" He shuddered all the way up his body and started the sentence again. "Azkaban…" He stopped, then determinedly started yet again. "That place is hell on earth. It drives you mad, steals all your good memories, all your happiness, leaves you with nothing but pain... Harry, only two people in thirty survive a five-year sentence; the Dementors' captives are often dead within three." A long pause as Sirius fought back broken sobs and forced himself to speak again, trying to hold his voice steady. "Elen was abused more cruelly than you could imagine, and if you tried it'd give you nightmares for the rest of your life."

Harry swallowed. Padfoot's bleak tone spoke of horrors more eloquently than his words did, and his words were harrowing enough. Suddenly, he remembered Hagrid's terror of Azkaban. If the wizarding prison frightened Hagrid that badly, then... okay, scratch that. I do not actually want to know details about the level of abuse required to twist Riddle's magic into that out-of-control, savage fit I saw earlier tonight.

"So what exactly does his magic do when it does have a target?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "That's the problem. Elen's inherited a powerful talent for mind-magic, and when Legilimency goes out of control... and he's got about as much control as a werewolf on full moon..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It traps anybody threatening him in a mental maze of memories, and nightmares, and remembered pain, all jumbled together and feeding off each other, and any of it is enough to completely disable almost anybody. It's only temporary if the threat's not acute, but if it is – a horde of Dementors closing in, Dolores Umbridge trying to cast the Cruciatus on us – Harry, I've never seen anything like it. It trapped Umbridge in a feedback loop and goodness only knows what it did to the Dementors..."

"Cruchi...?"

"Cruciatus." Sirius grimaced. "Torture curse. One of Voldemort's favourites. Agony beyond belief, like every pain you've ever felt, all at once, multiplied tenfold. After two seconds, it's hundredfold, and it just keeps getting more painful. It's one of the Unforgivables – using it even once gets you an automatic life sentence."

"Someone tried to use that on you?" Harry leapt to his feet, furious. "Why?"

"Harry, everyone thinks we're criminals. No repercussions for using anything you care to in order to take us down. Or at least I'd wager that's what she thought." One side of Sirius' mouth pulled up in a dark half-smile. "As I said, Elen's magic reacted badly. We were only in the same place for less than half a second, but she's still comatose and Elen's maze of horrors temporarily incapacitates everybody who tries to Heal her as well. That's actually how I figured out the relationship between the threat level and Elen's reaction."

"That sounds dangerous." Actually, it sounds worse than just dangerous. Harry shivered. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of that.

"It's potentially lethal if he's threatened, and completely out of control, and if he killed somebody with it even in self-defence... Harry, he'd probably commit suicide; he wouldn't be able to live with himself. I don't dare to leave him. I have to protect him and protect everybody else from him; at least until I can get him to the stage that he'll accept somebody teaching him control without destroying the teacher in blind panic. I'm hoping I can get Dumbledore on board, but that'll have to wait until Dumbledore doesn't think I'm a mass murderer, and goodness knows what he's going to make of Elen. He had to know that Elen was locked up in Azkaban so I don't know whether I even dare to trust him, but there might not be a choice. I can't think of anyone else who knows Legilimency apart from Voldemort himself..."

Harry caught his breath. He's serious. Voldemort's son would commit suicide if he accidentally killed somebody else even in self-defence? Somehow, I have to stop thinking of him as Riddle.

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"Could you please keep calling him Starling?" Harry bit his lip. "It's really stupid, but whenever you call him Elen I immediately think Tom because that's what I thought when I first saw him on TV..."

Sirius' eyes filled with tears. "Of course we can keep calling him Starling." He smiled. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening. And for believing a story that sounded as crazy as mine had to have sounded. And for giving Starling a chance." He paused, then grinned. "But just one question. Do you always believe insane-sounding stories this easily?"

Harry laughed. "Give me some credit for sense! Of course not! I believe you're innocent because Voldemort's ego would never cope with a flunkie who casually called him Lord Snakeface, and because of that – and because nobody could ever pretend to completely lose control of his magic and have it turn on him like what happened to Starling earlier – I trust you about him."

Sirius smiled, a full, true smile. "Oh, Harry. You are so much like your parents." Then he started to laugh. "Did I really call him that? I must have been having an off day. Voldemort... let's see. Lord Sorry, Who? The Ever-Mispronounced One. Sir Could Somebody Please Tell Me Which Alias We're Using This Wednesday..."

The name-calling competition lasted just over twenty minutes before Sirius brought it back to topic. "Harry. Please write to Professor McGonagall about Wormtail. Tell her everything I've told you. She's an Animagus herself, and she's fair, if tough, so hopefully it'll solve our problem. Or at least one of our problems." He sighed. "She'd recognise my handwriting and my style in a heartbeat and would send it straight to the Aurors – which we can't afford to risk – and Starling's never used a quill before, not to mention he'd be so nervous of writing to a stranger that I'd have to dictate every word, which would completely defeat the point. Write it in your words. Say Remus Lupin told you – that's L-U-P-I-N – and you recognised Wormtail from his description and hope like anything that she doesn't realise I'm involved."

Harry stroked Hedwig, who had found him during the pause between the second and third conversations. "I'll do it right now, Padfoot. Mischief managed."