AN: New Chapter. The Website has been updated with an editorial (factual analysis) on Severus Snape. Look under the essays section. I did post it on fanfic because it's not fanfiction and I don't think they'd accept it.

Please review...I love you all!


"Harry" mouthed Sirius Black as he banished a bloody knife.

Then he was gone with a faint popping noise almost inaudible amongst the rustling of the bushes in the night breeze.

Harry's heart contracted as if a cold metal hand had tightened around the pumping muscle and stilled it for what seemed like an eternity. White spots appeared before his eyes and danced randomly around his vision. A wave of pain crashed over his abdomen sending spasms of echoed pain through his body until his legs gave way and crumpled to the ground. Lying there panting heavily, the sensation of light-headedness washed over Harry leaving him unable to think coherently for a long time.

The pearly sliver of moonlight shining through the open window eased slightly across the floor as the night drew on. The rustling of leaves rose and fell like the spontaneous breathing of a living creature.

Harry lay face down on the rug unable to move his muscles, while they twitched of their own accord. He strained his hearing to catch any sounds of commotion in the garden below but only the faint whispers of the wind carried through the window. Gradually the numbness and the spasms faded leaving Harry faintly aware of the pain in the arm trapped under his body. He groaned and rolled over with difficulty.

A small ball of yellow light bobbed past the right window and reappeared in the middle of the room. A low groan of pain and an exclamation of surprise followed by the scuffling of frantic feet rose from the garden but Harry could not drag himself to the open window. The fit had left him weak and emaciated.

Soon the alarm had been sounded and guards trampled desperately through the foliage from all corners of the estate. The garden became illuminated by so many balls of yellow light that Harry's room became uncomfortably bright. Shouting, stamping and rustling; a commotion was breaking out beneath his window but right now Harry didn't care. His body felt so light…he was going to faint…


It was half past ten in the morning when the Dark Lord finally found time to see to Harry. Severus Snape was still in a coma but otherwise relatively unharmed. However this made obtaining evidence much harder.

The boy had a fit during the night but whether it was related to the breach of security was still debatable.Harry had more than his fair share of health problems and Voldemort had a feeling it wasn't all due to the regression spell. However his ponderings could wait, right now he needed to speak to Harry.

Harry was sitting obediently in bed while several healers examined his physical condition. The Dark Lord stood in the doorway as to not disturb the procedures. If Harry could see him, he gave no sign of recognition. The Healers, however, remained oblivious to his presence; far to engrossed in their task to turn around and look in the doorway. They were by far the most competent mediwizards in Britain, a special team of the top specialists that frequently serviced the Dark Lord and his court.

"How is the boy, Farius?" asked the Dark Lord when he saw that the healers had finished their magical examination. Harry hurriedly pulled the blankets up to cover himself. So the boy had not sensed me…perhaps more training is needed.

"In a stable condition, my lord," said Farius, bowing low. He was by far the oldest of the seven healers, with a long white goatee that extended beyond the collar of his silver robes. His wise and knowledgeable face seemed to be permanently caught in a thoughtful expression due to the many wrinkles that criss-crossed his face like cobwebs.

"That is good, Farius, you have done well," said Voldemort as he stepped into the room. Harry shifted slightly in his bed; too scared to make his discomfort known in front of others.

"The causes of his condition are mysterious, although it seems like an entirely random fit, which he has had frequently in the past. This episode was far less severe than some of the others he has had. My advice would be to allow for a period of rest and relaxation. His nerves seem to have been strained recently and what he needs most is reduction in stress and stimulation -"

"-You mean I have to stay in bed again like last time!" demanded Harry before he could control himself and the Dark Lord frowned to hide his amusement. The boy was obvious still frightened from the legimens episode last night and shrank back into the bed somewhat reluctantly.

"Sorry, Farius, the boy does not know what is good for him at times. I shall ensure that Harry is rested, are there any potions that may aid his recovery?" asked Voldemort.

"At this stage there is no need to employ any potions for their effects will not be so significant and over use in Harry's case will develop tolerance over time. Natural recovery, I believe, is far more efficient than any man made imitations."

"Thank you very much, Farius. Harry, what do you say?" inquired the Dark Lord expectantly.

"Thank you Healer Farius," mumbled Harry, the blankets now pulled up to his chin.

"The elves will show you the way out," said Voldemort while he seated himself on the bed beside Harry and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. The boy sneaked a sideways glance at him to show he knew what the Dark Lord was thinking. The team of healers departed with solemn bows but not before witnessing the Dark Lord pull Harry to his chest in a tender and well-timed embrace.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as they trooped out, clearly interested in what they had seen. The Dark Lord could see the hate in the boy's eyes as he smoothed the tousled hair. Harry hate being used like trophy.

However a casual display of tenderness and affection towards the boy was enough to pacify the public and even gain their approval. The Dark Lord need the populace to see the human side of their conquer. A country could not be ruled with an iron fist. He needed to capture the hearts of the people and up until now he had been most successful.

His political skills soon secured him total control over the old establishments and built peaceful relationships with other countries. Despite his earlier call to arms under the banner of eliminating muggles, the Dark Lord had reinforced the Stature of Secrecy, to the great relief of many. He rewrote many old laws, allowing part humans to mingle with society, allowing non-human creatures greater liberties and conserving the magical wild-life of Britain, which the previous ministry had been culling for so long.

However his most controversial move was to declare all muggle-born children were to become wards of the court. This meant that they would be educated to a certain degree and put to use doing low skilled jobs, hence by solving an employment crisis. Unfortunately this meant the kidnapping of muggle-born children from their muggle parents, which bought great resistance to the policy. Thus a distraction was need and that had come in the form of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Many people had believed that when the Dark Lord came to power he would want bloodthirsty revenge on his one-time enemies. What better way to reassure the public that he was a humane person than to take the Boy Who Lived into his house, feed him, cloth him, educate him and protect him. If the Dark Lord could forgive and even love the Boy Who Lived, the general populace would be safe. Voldemort was keen to be seen as a father figure whom they could trust in, which was why he changed his appearance to that of his original handsome self. It was quite amazing how physical appearance could change one's image.

However his most powerful weapon lay in Harry Potter. He would bring the boy to social functions and "show him off" as Harry had so crudely put it. Cunningly displaying just the right balance between doting father and wise disciplinarian, Voldemort managed to capture the hearts of the people with the tragic tale of the orphan boy being adopted by a kind, humane leader. Of course some still had their doubts but most people, Voldemort knew from personal experience, were exceptionally incompetent when it came to authority.


Harry stared at the bed covers and tried to ignore the arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders. Today he was once again reminded that he was nothing but a trophy that the Dark Lord liked to have on display to the world. Voldemort used him over and over again to further his political gains, which left Harry feeling like a terrible traitor. However his feelings of guilt increased when he found himself enjoying the comfort of his master's embrace.

"How are you, Harry?" hissed the Dark Lord in parseltongue. The sweet soothing voice hid all traces of danger and Harry was left wondering once again why the Dark Lord continued his act when they were alone. He had been expecting at the very least cold indifference in private.

"I'm fine," muttered Harry stiffly. He was too tired to fight back today. Perhaps Voldemort would make the mind torture quick and then he could sleep for the rest of the day.

"You had a fit last night. What were you doing out of bed?" inquired Voldemort.

"I heard commotion, voices, I wanted to see who it was…" Harry trailed off. Not knowing whether to tell the truth or not.

"Tell me, who did you see?" demanded the Dark Lord, coldness creeping into his voice.

"I…it was dark," muttered Harry feebly but suddenly the sharp presence of his master's mind made itself known. Harry screamed as he felt the horrible penetration all over again. "Please, I'll tell you!" He cried in pain as the penetration continued.

"It was Sirius Black, he's still alive, isn't he?" asked the Dark Lord in a low and deadly voice. Harry did not have time to wonder how the Dark Lord knew this, as he had not penetrated into the guarded area of his mind. The pain was intensifying. The Dark Lord was not probing his mind. He was torturing him, a mental form of crucio but so much more intense. Harry's body convulsed as he screamed in agony. He couldn't take it anymore…

"Yes! I saw him!" cried Harry before slumping into his master's robed chest when the pain suddenly dissipated.

"Yes…I figured as much," Voldemort sounded pleased…so very pleased. His eyes seemed to glow red for a moment as he licked his lips obscenely.

Harry shuddered and burst into tears. The echo of the mental pain was still there but his guilt…he had just sentenced his Godfather to death. Calm, warm arms turned him around and he cried against the green velvet robes as soft hand rubbed his back in rhythmic circles. The soft lilting of the serpent song lingered in the air as Voldemort hissed to comfort him.


Sirius was running faster than he had ever done in his life. The gold banner of the Phoenix had fallen; the standard bearer slain by the advancing Black Armies. The flag was right in front him now…so close. He needed to lift it up to show the world they had not fallen yet. The cold icey air ripped through his long shaggy hair but he could not feel it right now…he could feel nothing.

He was half way up the hillside now, beneath him the seething mass of dark allies slaughtering all the stood in their way. Like an enormous, many legged beast, it advanced steadily towards the small town of Godric's Hollow with malicious intent. There were only a handful of Death Eaters standing between him and the banner now. All around him on the hilltop the dead littered the ground, looking like grotesque boulders in the setting sun. The grass was as red as the sky with the blood of the fallen but Sirius was on a mission and no one could stop him.

The Death Eaters were all engaged in combat but one slipped free of his opponent and a killing curse flew in his direction. Not even slowing down, Sirius ducked his head to avoid the curse and heard an awful scream as a comrade fell behind him. The Banner was in sight, trodden down in the mud, the edge torn to shreds but the Phoenix as bright as ever. It's golden head still held high amidst the mud of the battlefield.

Stretching out aching hands, he grasped the pole and hoisted the flag into the air. A thrill Phoenix cry echoed through the valley, striking fear into the hearts of his enemies. Sirius waved it with all his might and the giant flag was flung upwards by the strong wind. The Phoenix was once more flying in the skies to great cheers from behind him.

Suddenly it had begun to rain…large wet rain drops littered the battle field and the mug churned under the feet of a thousand men…

Sirius woke up with a start and saw that Buckbeak was stamping the ground of the cave. It snorted and tossed its head, somewhere in the distance a torch light brigade was advancing towards them with ruthless efficiency.


AN: Okay less action, more information in this chapter. Poor Sirius...I almost feel sorry for him...almost you'll see why. Please review...you were all so good on the last chapter.