We will reach the Ministry (again - this time circa '96) in the next update and see how Ana's presence changes the battle within the Dept of Mysteries! Might be a couple of days until I can update again - RL getting in the way and all that - so hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading!


Grimmauld Place (June 1996)

Almost at precisely the same time as the realisation of where she was came to her Ana let out a yelp as a sudden pain struck her and, opening her tightly clenched fist, dropped the Time Turner on the ground. It was burning hot; as Remus had told her it would be, and the heat had only further pained her sliced palm. It hit the parquet, her blood splashing down to join it, with a clatter.

Immediately the door at the end of the hall was flung open and a figure appeared; wand raised and pointed straight at her. She would know him anywhere; especially perhaps silhouetted in the gloom of Grimmauld Place. Though he looked younger; there were fewer lines around his startling grey eyes and more black than grey in his hair, he was less gaunt than he had eventually become – less weary of the world and yet at the same time just as haunted. She could see it all in him, she knew him well enough to, but of course he did not…

"Who are you?" he barked, striding over to her in a few quick steps and pinning her against the wall with his wand at her throat. She said nothing for a long moment, simply looking at him as the realisation sunk in that she had done it – she had gone back and now she could fix everything. She could do what He could not, what the Order could not…she could change the entire world and make sure that Sirius would not die...

"Answer me girl! Who are you, how did you get in here? Did someone let you in? Did someone tell you the address? TELL ME!" his bark was as feral as ever it was when he was in a temper and it was only when she saw the murderous glint in his eye that she realised this was not pretend. This was not the Sirius Black she knew, the Sirius Black who would have done anything for her, this was another man entirely. Another man who did not know her and would, if he felt the need, do her harm.

"I'm…" she paused; wondering just what to say. The truth was incredible, maybe too incredible, and yet to lie now could ruin everything. If she were to lie and he were to find out her deception he might think her a Death Eater or an enemy and kill her anyway. He might…

"I won't ask a third time…" he growled, his breath hot on her face.

Her mind was racing, her heart telling her he wouldn't hurt her and yet her mind reminding her that he would, panic beginning to take hold as she realised they had never truly though about what would happen when she reached the past beyond the whole saving Potter thing…

"My name is Ana Harte," she finally murmured looking into eyes she knew well and seeing no recognition there at all, "I am twenty three years old and I have come from the future to save the life of Harry Potter."

There was a lengthy pause in which she could see Sirius trying to make sense of her words, trying to ascertain whether it was lies she told or truths, searching for deception. She kept her gaze level, as level as she could, and simply waited. Sirius was not one for grand speeches and so neither was she – direct explanations in simple terms were the best way to earn his trust.

"If that's true then when do you come from?" he asked finally, his left arm still pinning her to the wall; elbow to wrist running along her collarbone, whilst his right hand was wielding the wand.

"The year twenty twenty two – twenty six years from now."

She saw his brows shoot up as he kept his eyes on hers, still searching for lies,

"That's not possible – no one can travel that far…" he scoffed.

"I did; I have. I travelled twenty six years in time to save Harry Potter." she watched his forehead furrow slightly; ah, there were the lines she had found missing earlier – hidden for now but soon they would…

"Harry?" he asked brusquely, "Save Harry from what? What's going to happen?"

This, she realised, would not be easy.

"In my timeline Harry Potter died aged fifteen on the…" she began in as even a tone as she could; however he interrupted her before she could go any further.

"He's fifteen now and he's fine." Sirius grated out.

"Not for long," she countered, "On the eighteenth of June nineteen ninety six he is going to go to the Department of Mysteries and he is going to walk right into the Dark Lord's arms. He is going to die there and with his death will end all hope of ever overthrowing Him. The world will sink into darkness; which is why I have to stop Potter from being killed."

Sirius was staring at her, still looking disbelieving and yet she saw the doubt; the tiny fleck of wonder settling in as he tried to convince himself she wasn't telling the truth when, she knew, a part of him thought she could surely not be lying.

"How do I know you're not a Death Eater sent here to kill me? You call Voldemort the Dark Lord – only Death Eaters do that."

"In my time," she explained patiently, "His name is cursed; those who speak it are taken by Snatchers to Azkaban for crimes against Him."

"Snatchers?" Sirius queried.

"Rubbish Death Eaters," she clarified, "Those not worthy of the higher ranks but useful for brute work nonetheless. They're the ones with brawn and not brains you could say."

Another pause, this one longer, stretched between them. Her hand was throbbing and the pressure he was putting on her collar bone was beginning to hurt almost as much but she didn't say anything. She needed to tread carefully.

"How did you get in here?" he asked slowly, his wand twitching closer to her face.

"I was given the address by a Secret Keeper." she replied truthfully.

"Dumbledore gave you…?" he began.

"No," she cut him off, "Not Dumbledore. In my time Dumbledore relinquished Secret Keeper status when the Da…Voldemort rose up. He had to go into hiding; our final figurehead could not be killed by Death Eaters in some messy brawl. So another took up the task."

"Who?"

"It was you," she could not keep the faint fond smile from her face, "You told me the address when I was ten and when I came of age you made me a Secret Keeper along with you - as a sign of trust you said."

His brow furrowed further as he looked at her. The pause was so long she wondered whether he had forgotten what was happening, had wandered off into his own brand of thought, until he asked quietly,

"I exist in your…time?" his voice was tentative; still disbelieving.

"You do," she answered, "You're one of the Order's leading members. I've known you most of my life; near on all of it truth be told. I saw you not…an hour ago…"

"Well then this just became very simple," he intoned, his voice taking on a hard edge as he cut her off, "All you have to do is convince me that you know me. Go on; convince me."

She hesitated; seeing the hard look on his face and knowing that if she faltered now all would be lost. He would kill her if he thought her a spy, though the idea of Sirius killing her still seemed like a bad joke, and then she would never be able to save him…

"Your name is Sirius Black the third, father Orion and mother Walburga, your brother Regulus died when he was just eighteen; he was a Death Eater for a little while. You lived in Grimmauld Place until you were sixteen at which stage you moved out to live with the family of James Potter…"

"This is stuff anyone could say about me; I've been in the Prophet enough – which means you're a liar and…" he raised his wand and opened his mouth.

"…alright, ALRIGHT!" she exclaimed. "At the Potters you got into Muggle fiction; you loved The Catcher in the Rye – it's your favourite book, Tolkien too, you love Tolkien, I bought you a specially bound edition of the Hobbit for your fiftieth birthday…you hate onions! You hate onions and when I asked you why you said it was because you objected to any vegetable that had the power to make you cry. I know it's the smell you hate though; you don't really mind the taste all that much if they're well cooked. Your nickname is Padfoot though you also went by Snuffles for a while which I said was really stupid and you agreed but it was safe. Another thing you hate the taste of; Firewhisky – but you drink it by the bottle if I don't lock it up when you're in one of your dark moods. Once I found you slumped in the pantry cuddling a carrot you'd enlarged using an engorgement charm; you denied it the next day but I'll never forget the sight. You…"

She stopped and was almost ashamed to feel the burning in her eyes and the first drops of tears falling onto her cheeks. She took in a deep, shaky breath and half smiled; watching as he watched her and barely able to see his expression through her blurred vision,

"…you are the best man I have ever known and I would have done anything to protect you."

She broke eye contact and sniffed as she stared along the hall to the covered frame which sat there. She could only hear her own sniffling and Sirius' breathing in the quiet hallway. For a long moment neither of them spoke until, finally, Sirius hoarsely murmured,

"You're telling the truth?" it sounded like a question but she knew it was not.

"I am," she whispered in reply. "But if you don't believe me then there is one way to be sure; one way to put aside all your doubts."

She looked back to him, noticing for the first time that the weight applied to her collarbone had lessened significantly, and he watched her expectantly – waiting for an answer.

"You could always ask your mother."

He looked down the hall, where her eyes had earlier fallen, and took in a sharp breath through his teeth. He looked at her, then back at the portrait, and finally back to her again.

"We've been making a fair bit of noise; should have woken her up, shouldn't it? But it hasn't – she hasn't made a sound. Did you not wonder why? It's because she knows exactly who I am and she knows what will happen to her if she crosses me – don't you, Mrs Black?"

There was a shuffling noise from the end of the hall and the quietest muttering of,

"Dirty half-blood." spoken almost under the breath carried down to where they stood.

"Quite so," Ana agreed, "My status is indeed half blood – though as for cleanliness, well, I am no true judge."

She looked back to Sirius, who was staring at her with incredulity now, before Ana decided that if she was going to take her chance she had better do it fast;

"Do you remember me, Mrs Black? Do you remember, however faintly, what happened when you called me what you did all that time ago…or time to come I suppose now."

There was a pause, which Ana thought was filled with dark foreboding, before another mutter could be heard from where the portrait hung,

"Flames and screams and…half-blood Harte; Princess Harte, murderess Harte…"

"Answer the question you old bitch!" called Sirius harshly, "Who is she?"

"NO SON OF MINE!" screamed the portrait suddenly, "NO SON OF MINE! BLOOD TRAITOR!"

"Mrs Black!" exclaimed Ana, her voice carrying over the hysterical screeching, "Mrs Black you will stop that at once and answer Sirius' question or I shall be forced to extract an answer."

Immediately the screaming ceased and all they heard for a long moment was harsh breathing. Then, finally, the rasping voice ground out;

"Ana Harte; traitor son's lovely one, his precious one, the one he doted upon – don't talk to her like that, don't look at her like that!" Mrs Black's muttering quietened into an inaudible state.

Sirius and Ana both turned to face one another at exactly the same moment.

"How…?" he began.

"Portrait magic is…complicated. They're only an echo of the person they were but they always know what is happening in front of their frames. I didn't know for definite until I asked her just now but it seems my transfer from one time to another has also been captured by her portrait; she remembers the other time I was in – from the portrait there. You see my travelling is fixed; I've not just travelled in time I've transplanted myself from the future to the past. It seems some part of Mrs Black's echo remembers that time; remembers me and...well we didn't have the most congenial of friendships."

He gave her an incredulous look for a moment before blurting out,

"That makes no sense at all."

She smiled a crooked smile and answered,

"Nope; none at all – but it is the truth. I am telling you the truth Sirius. I am who I say I am and I know that this is so hard for you to understand but…"

She stopped as a voice echoed through the house. It was shouting out in a cold, slightly nasal tone and Ana felt herself shiver slightly as it cut right through her; she knew that voice.

"Bloody hell what does he want?" Sirius murmured to himself, looking to her before seemingly making a decision and pulling away. She heaved a sigh of relief as she was once again given space to move and breathe.

"This isn't over; this conversation – all of it. I still want answers. You have a wand?"

She reached down slightly and pulled aside the slit in her dress. She leaned further down for her wand only for him to whip a hand out and grab her wrist; stopping her.

"I'll take it." he snapped.

He released her wrist and used the now free hand to take the wand from the holster on her thigh. She looked up as he did so and saw that there was a slight flush on his cheeks…no – no way. Sirius Black could not be blushing at the sight of her legs! Yet this was not the Sirius who had seen her in her nightclothes and Merlin knows what little else hundreds of times before. This was a different man, she reminded herself; not her Sirius at all. Not yet.

"What are those?" he asked, gesturing to the knives resting alongside the wand holster.

"Cursed daggers," she answered, "You can take them too; if you want."

"You undo the strap." he replied, averting his eyes and she further separated her dress and untied the leather; holding out the strip on which they were attached. He took them without a word and then gestured for her to move.

"You know this place, or so you say, head for the kitchen – we have a caller it seems."

She knew his wand was pointed at her back and so she made her movements fluid but not quick. She walked sedately to the kitchen, opening the door carefully and, after quickly making sure no one else was physically there, looking towards the fire place.

There a face sat in the flames; a dark disembodied head dancing around and looking at her like she was a creature who had just crawled from the deep.

"What in…who are you?" he asked, his cold voice becoming more nasal as he spoke with anger in his tone.

"She's with me," Sirius replied, sauntering in behind her with his signature boyhood stroll in full swing, "Now what in the name of Merlin's balls are you doing in my fireplace Snivellus?"