Laments and Laughter Part 1

Updated 6/16/15

Albus Dumbledore sat wearily in his chintz chair. He his half-moon glasses clean of any smudges.

"You said he had a message that he wanted you to deliver?" he asked as he replaced his glasses.

"Yes," Fabian nodded, wringing his hands. Fabian was, for some reason unbeknownst to Albus, nervous. Albus had no doubt that whatever message the older twins delivered, the new information would be very revealing. He had gained nothing from sending his letter; the boy had yet to respond. He would have to write a second soon, now that the boy was held in capable hands.

"Well...don't let me stop you," Albus beckoned Fabian and Gideon to continue.

They stalled for time; time that was not available. He could see Sirius fidget in his chair. This was a war, bordering on genocide at times, and the order members were playing like little schoolboys. All he wanted was answers. And he wasn't getting them. He hoped whatever Fabian and Gideon had to say would be helpful.

"Well," Gideon said as he glanced at his twin brother, "We really think that everyone needs to be present for this."

Albus gestured around the room with an open hand, "Everyone is."

"Everyone," Gideon emphasized as he leaned against the mahogany desk. He dirtied it with a spattering of twigs and leaves he had yet to remove from his sweater. "Sir. It concerns the prophecy-"

"The Prophecy?" Sirius interjected, shooting comically out of his seat, his blue eyes wide. "I think Lily and James need to hear this, then."

Benjy sputtered indignantly at Sirius. "And why should they? They left, and the prophecy has nothing to do with them-"

"Headmaster – uh, Albus," Remus piped up from his usual position against the windowsill, "If Fabian and Gideon insist, then they really should be here. I mean, you said it yourself, back then there were two possible children – and if James and Lily hadn't lost-"

"I'll go get them," Sirius said, cutting smoothly over Remus, "I'll apparate or something. I need some, I don't know, air," he babbled as he walked out of the room, knocking over a lamp on the way.

Sirius knelt by the fireplace in his tiny apartment chewing on his lip. How did he bring this up? He thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and plunged his head into the green flames.

"James, Lily," he cried out.

He could see James jump in surprise, fear, and knock over a chess board. Nate laughed gleefully before cringing at Lily's declaration of "No dessert!" if he did not help clean up the mess.

"Merlin! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" James cried out. He drama clutched his hand, full of black chess pieces, over his heart.

"What is it mutt?" Lily asked playfully, coming to stand next to her husband. That woman was always smiling, Sirius thought. He watched her smile slowly slide off her face. It was now or never.

"I know you said you didn't want to be in The Order anymore, but, you need to come. Now. Something has come up…about the prophecy."

"Nate, go upstairs." Lily said as James sunk to his knees and crawled closer to the fireplace.

"About…the – the prophecy? Us? We thought…we thought it didn't concern us. Not anymore." Sirius, looking at James' pale face, very felt horrible about this mysterious turn of events.

"Fabian and Gideon have news concerning the Prophecy. They wish for everyone to be present – you two included."

"Sirius," Lily began, her face stern, "I don't know if that's a good idea. The Order-"

"The Order-shmorder Lilykins!" Sirius yelled. "This could be life or death! This could explain everything! Don't you want answers? Listen…you don't need to rejoin, and sure things may be a little tense, but it will be closure, at least a little bit."

Lily and James shared a long, sickening (in Sirius' opinion) lovey-dovey look. "Fine. We'll listen, but as soon as Dumbledore tries to re-recruit us, we are gone. Understand?"

"Yes, very clearly Lily. I'll see you very soon in the ol' meeting place then!" Sirius gave a cheeky grin as he ended his call.

"Hey you guys!" Neville said as he panted heavily. He was relieved to have found them, ears pressed against the door and invisibility cloak pooled around their feet. "I – I have some news." He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Well, go on! Out with it!" Hermione said impatiently. She, as she always did when nervous, wrung her hands.

Neville took a deep breath of air, as if preparing himself. "The Shadow attacked The Burrow."

"What?" Hermione screeched as Luna worriedly asked, "Is everybody okay? Oh dear, how could something like this happen?"

"I don't know," Neville shrugged, "I just came from the Min-uh mini golf tournament."

"The what?" asked Luna. Her pale eyes were wide and scanning.

Hermione too looked confused, even skeptical.

"Muggle thing. Good PR. Doesn't matter," Neville batted away Luna's question with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, that's why Ginny and Ron aren't here. They got some scratches and whatnot….So, what's happened so far?" Neville plopped down on the step, wriggling his way in-between Luna and Hermione.

Hermione sighed, worry etched onto her face. "Nothing, they're probably talking about that attack-"

Hermione quieted immediately when the door swung open, revealing a somber looking Dumbledore.

He looked down his nose at the trio, smiling slightly. "Neville, please join us."

Neville, his face red at being caught trying to eavesdrop, shuffled through the door, which was unceremoniously slammed shut.

As Neville entered the room Sirius Black and Lily Potter stepped gracefully out of the fireplace. James rolled out of the fire behind them. He stood quickly and dusted off his shoulders before turning to face Dumbledore, who had turned in surprise.

"Sirius filled us in. We've decided we'll hear this out and work with the group when necessary since this mess obviously involves us in some way."

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Sir?" Neville asked quietly as he looked up at Dumbledore, who had returned to his position behind his desk.

Dumbledore did not answer immediately, and Neville became more and more nervous. He shifted from foot to foot as the Order members stared at him relentlessly. He returned their stares, his confidence welled, "What's going on?"

"What do you know of The Prophecy, Neville?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

James Potter, Neville noticed, turned to watch the professor very carefully.

"I…well…I have to kill him, don't I? I'm the only one who can. Ever since I heard the full prophecy…" Neville stated as he sank into a chair, nervously looking around. Out of the corner of his eye, Neville thought he saw Fabian and Gideon exchange meaningful glances with James Potter.

Gideon shuffled. "Funny you should mention that bit about killing him, Neville." Several others shuffled, there were whispers. What was this about? "What else do you know?"

Neville shifted in his seat and ran a finger down his scar, a nervous habit, "Well, I uh V-Voldemort chose me- marked me- Professor Dumbledore sir, when I said I needed to speak with you, this isn't exactly what I meant."

Albus raised his hand in a placating gesture, "All in due time, my boy, until then we must talk of the prophecy. I'm sure this discussion will answer some of your questions."

"What else is there to say about it, sir?" Neville nearly snarled. He was fed up with being pulled along like some precious little weapon. Everyone had something different to say, something different they wanted him to do. He felt like he was being pulled in ten directions and nothing he did was right.

"Neville," James said slowly, "we've got some information about The Prophecy that I – we – think you should know."

Neville glanced at Dumbledore, who did not look happy. "Yes?" he asked uncertainly, returning his gaze to James.

"Do you know who else the prophecy may have applied to?" asked James Potter, an odd look on his face.

"No sir." The silence in the room was deafening. It pounded against Neville's ears. No one spoke for a long time, only stared into their hands or at the floor.

James cracked a weak, weary smile. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have." Neville look questioningly at Mister Potter. "You see, Neville, the other person…he, if he lived…." James faltered and looked away. Neville could not bring himself to make a peep of noise. "Did you know that Lily and I once lost a child, Neville?"

Neville was shocked, "No, I – I did not." He glanced at Mrs. Potter quickly. Her eyes were shiny.

"He would be your age now if he had lived. Same birthday and everything." Neville felt his stomach churn, could it be?

"It could have been him with that scar, Neville. But, he – Harry, his name was Harry - was stillborn and Voldemort, by default, chose you."

The somber mood wrapped itself around Neville like a blanket, an itchy woolen blanket that makes you writhe and squirm and you hate it with a passion you've never felt before.

"I'm-I'm so sorry," he managed to croak out. And he was truly sorry for the Potter's loss, but deep down he felt the boy was blessed, able to escape from a horrible fate.

"But recently," Gideon piped up, "as recently as yesterday afternoon, might I add, Fabian and I were given a message, from The Shadow, concerning the prophecy. He wanted us to deliver it to The Order – whose existence he is very well aware of. It seems that Harry and Neville," Gideon addressed the attentive crowd, "were not the only ones the prophecy applied to."

Albus looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"The Shadow," began Fabian, "said, and I quote, 'I am the one with the power to vanquish him, I know what I must do.'"

Whispers rippled through the room. Neville felt a shiver go down his spine and his stomach began to roll uneasily. That monster was claiming he was the only hope for Wizardkind?

"Do we know for sure that this prophecy is the one he is referring to?" asked James.

"That's…he knows the prophecy!" Neville shouted at James. "It's an exact phrase! There's nothing else he could have been referring too!"

"Indeed Mister Longbottom. The question is how does he know it?" Albus asked quietly. "Obviously," Dumbledore addressed the group, "The Shadow has more information than previously thought. It is now imperative to discover his true alliances, the depth of his knowledge, and if possible persuade him to our side. If he does not their will be grave consequences for everyone. Until then, I believe we have all had enough excitement for one night so I shall dismiss this meeting. I will contact you within the week with a new date."

"James," Called Sirius down the hall. He grabbed James by the sleeve and pulled him close. "I've been digging stuff up on this kid – or at least trying too, but he has no paper trail. At all. He's practically none existent."

"Oh, well-" started James as he took his arm back and straightened his sleeve. He glanced at his wife, who was ahead of them walking through the Great Hall talking to Tonks.

"So I was thinking, his interrogation…" Sirius smiled sneakily.

James pushed his glasses up his nose and smirked. "Yeah?"

"I, your best friend, may be able to get us front row seats."

"-Dawlish and Savage ended up with several broken bones, some bleeding, smoke inhalation. Nothing life threatening.

"And the boy, Nott?" Voldemort asked, twirling is wand in his long fingers.

"Did a considerable amount of damage my lord. Set the woods on fire."

A sick grin spread over Voldemort's thin lips. "How…entertaining."

Nott nodded, his hood bouncing up and down creating eerie shadows in the candle-light.

"How is he?"

"He's well, sir. He is currently being held in the MLE Health Ward, under non-magical observation. Word is he is going to be transferred to St. Mungos soon, for psychological evaluation."

Voldemort nodded and tapped his finger against his chin in thought. "Rackner, you will be doing the interrogation, yes?"

The man Voldemort addressed, Rackner, stepped forward, his steps uncommonly quick for a man of his considerable size.

"Indeed, my lord," Rackner knelt, "He will be awoken in two weeks time, when we shall question him. Everything is in place – Black at the hospital, Rosier in the court. Now we wait."

"Any news?" asked Dean Thomas.

Seamus' attention had been captured also. He shoveled more potatoes into his mouth. "What's that headline – is that The Shadow? Right scary picture that is! He looks our age…"

"Hermione, what's the article say?" asked Lavender.

"It says – It says that he's been caught." Hermione stared wide-eyed at the paper. "He attacked The Burrow – Neville told us that, everyone was okay – and they caught him."

"Finally! We can't have brutes like him running around. I'm glad the Ministry is finally taking steps to protect the public!" yelled Lavender at the same time Dean replied "Yeah, I was there. I didn't know he got arrested-"

Hermione snapped her attention to Dean. "You were there! What happened?"

"Sh! Get the group together – six tonight? – We'll tell you all about it then. Now, what's that article say?"

"It says – On December 27th at 5pm, the savage wizard known only as The Shadow attacked the Weasley family home, with the intent to murder the family and guests attending a party. However, thanks to the quick thinking of Nathaniel Potter, 15, son of James and Lily Potter; Dean Thomas, 16; and Ron (16) and Charlie (24) Weasley, the family was spared a few moments of safety, in which they quickly contacted the Department…OK OK, here it is…

The Shadow did considerable damage to the property, including setting a fire that burned over 73 acres of protected forest and threatened local Muggle families. Obliviators also had their hands full, having to obliviate 17 Muggles who said they witnessed an aerial "broomstick battle". It took three teams of Aurors to capture the elusive dark wizard. He is currently being held at an undisclosed location. His trial is set for January 28th.

That's it. That's all they say. It goes on to talk about proper emergency floo usage."

Harry coughed. He could not breathe. His eyes snapped open. Something obstructed his throat. He gagged. He could not breathe. He began to panic, grabbed at his throat. He could not reach. A rough hand pushed him back onto the bed. Another held his jaw. Harry struggled in vain. He nearly lost the contents of his stomach as he felt it – whatever it was – move up his throat and out. Harry shut his eyes tightly, and he coughed several times more.

"How are you feeling?" asked a cruel, cold voice.

Harry squinted against the harsh light. "Ungfh." Harry's mouth felt like cotton and his tongue was two sizes too big.

"His large vocabulary ceases to amaze me, brilliant one he is – open your mouth."

"Water-" Harry gasped, clutching at his throat. His hand stung. Something was pinching it. The beeping in the background sounded in time with his throbbing head.

"After I take your temperature. Now open your mouth.

" Harry did not open his mouth. He pulled his sheets tighter around his body, willing himself to hide completely in the safe cocoon.

"Sir, if you do not open your mouth I will be forced to use other…openings to take your temperature."

Harry opened an eye, squinting into the white light, and glared at the nurse. "How can you even threaten people like that?" His voice was raw, he felt as if a tube had been shoved down his throat.

She smiled wickedly. "I haven't got a soul," she stated as she shoved the thermometer into Harry's mouth. Harry complied with the nurse's request.

Thermometer under his tongue, Harry watched the red mercury rise, then still. The nurse pulled it from his mouth with a huff. She held a glass of water to his lips; Harry drank greedily, trying to grab the cup, but finding his hands restrained.

"How long have I been here?" He asked as he observed the silver handcuffs holding him to the bed.

"About two-weeks," she answered as she poked and prodded him, adjusted the Muggle IV attached to his arm, and read machine printouts of something or other. "You are fit enough to speak to Aurors. They will be in shortly."

"Wait!" Harry cried out, but the nurse ignored him as she walked out of the white room.

Harry stared at the walls trying to make sense of his current position. They thought him dangerous.

"Sir, it's time for you to leave." The nurse pulled back the white curtain around his bed revealing two giant Aurors and a wheelchair.

Harry looked at the chair in dismay. "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

Harry shrugged helplessly, his hands splayed out toward the chair. "This is really- this is just-"

"Degrading? Humiliating?" asked the nurse, with more enthusiasm than she should have had, Harry thought.

"Yes!" Harry said, eying the chair with disgust. He could walk.

An Auror laughed.

"Good," the Auror said as he uncuffed Harry's hands from the bed, only to attach them together. The other grabbed the IV stand.

"Now, get in." He shoved Harry into the chair and began to roll him to what Harry could only think of as infinite doom.

"What time does this thing begin at?" James asked, glancing at his watch.

Sirius peeked over his shoulder and read the clock face.

"6:28? Should be beginning in two minutes. Take a seat, mate!"

James felt bile rise in his throat as he watched the red-cloaked Auror wheel the boy in. Next to him Sirius stiffened slightly, his eyes watching the boy's emaciated form intently.

"Name?"

"Harry Po- do I have- really?" asked the boy distractedly, he squinrws rather badly. James wondered where the boy's glasses went. "My name? You don't know who I am?"

Sirius, his face almost pressed against the glass they were hiding behind, snorted. "What an arrogant prick! Reminds me of you," he added cheekily. James shook his head and returned his attention to the interrogation.

"Oh, we know who you are-" snarled the Auror.

Harry looked sharply at the man. "Then you know my name."

"That we do not. We know you by your actions," the Auror pointed at him, as if he was about to bop him deprecatingly on the nose. "Name?"

The boy sighed and his shoulders sagged. He looked weary, older than he should have.

"Harry Potter."

"Potter?"

"Obviously," the boy's – Harry's- voice had a hard edge to it. He leaned back into his Muggle wheelchair as if he were lounging next to a pool.

"Next question, then. Birth date?"

"July 31, 1980."

James heart jumped and Sirius' face, if it was possible, seemed to press further against the glass.

James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, which he had taken up residence in over an hour ago. He watched the Aurors relentless question the boy about his past – parents are dead (won't say who, only shrugs), lives with Aunt and Uncle, goes to Hogwarts; all are obvious lies, though he adamantly believes them, hence the repetitive nature of the questions. James was beginning to get bored. Sirius, however, was fascinated.

No matter how hard he tried to pay attention through the second round of questions, each the same as the first, James' mind wandered to dark and fathomless depths. Instead he sat and brood. He thought about the slight possibility that the boy through some unnatural turn of events – no. James banished these painful and ridiculously far-fetched thoughts almost immediately, only to find they would resurface within minutes.

"James!" Sirius nudged him, jolting James from his trance, "They're starting the good questions now."

Sirius had, somehow, been able to maintain focus through the torturous session, absorbing everything the boy said. Every once in awhile he would mutter "he's mad" , or snort at a particularly witty remark.

"Where we'\re you the night of the Hogsmeade Attack?" asked the Auror as he paced around Harry.

Harry hesitated, his hands twitched in his lap. "In Hogsmeade." Obviously, James thought.

"Doing what?"

"Having tea – look, I realize this sounds bad, but I didn't have anything to do with that attack." The boy ran his hands through his hair desperately.

"Witnesses say you dissapparated with Death Eaters-"

"Doesn't mean I am one! Look at my arm- Look!" Harry yelled wildly, lunging forward across the table, ripping out his Muggle IV and probably a few stitches, with his sleeve pushed up, revealing a bare forearm. Two giant men grabbed Harry by his arms and pulled him off the table and back into his metal chair. James, accidentally, let out a squeak of fright.

"Why would I do that Mister….Potter?"

"Do you see the mark? Do you!" Harry howled, blood soaking his hand and splattered on his face. He fought against the Aurors' restraining grips, "No! Because I'm not a bloody death eater!"

An Auror turned a paper, waiting for Harry to calm down. Sirius, like James, sat wide-eyed as they watched the seething young man.

"Mister Potter. Where were you the night of the Hogsmeade Train Massacre?"

The boy's head snapped up as if he was shocked. "The what?"

James exchanged a loaded glance with Sirius. "Mad" Sirius muttered, running his hand through his hair.

The Auror glared at Harry. "The Hogsmeade Train Massacre."

"I-I've never heard of it. I don't know."

"Where were you when these events transpired!" roared the Auror. He slammed his hands down on the metal table with a resounding bang.

"I don't- Look, I already answered this question-"

"Not truthfully."

"What? Yes! Yes I did, have been! Give me verisitium if need be!"

"Verisitium can be tricked," the Auror said flatly.

James watched as the boy refused to answer any more questions. He sat stiffly in his wheelchair and stared at a spot over the shoulder of the Auror. Every so often the Auror would ask a question which would cause Harry's jaw to twitch, or make him flicker his steely gaze at the other man before it returned to the spot on the wall. Suddenly the boy collapsed, his shoulders slumping as if all his hopes and dream, too weighty, had broken his spirit.

"What's the matter Potter?"

"I just want to go home."

"Where is home?"

"I don't know. I used to think – no. I don't know anymore. Away. Away is home for now."

"I can tell you where your home will be, Potter," the Auror said, not unkindly. James looked inquisitively at Sirius, who only shrugged. "St. Mungos."

The two men watched as Harry was rolled out of the cell. For a split second the boy's eyes had looked toward the two-way wall they were hidden behind.

James scrunched his face in concentration. "That was...odd."

"James-" Sirius began, murmuring into his finger that he had pressed against his lips in thought, "I have a confession." Sirius sighed loudly and turned to face James.

"Sirius," James smiled playfully, "Now is not the time to profess your undying love to me…"

"No no no!" Sirius shook he head vigorously. "Not that. This time, at least. That kid…he – I think he-"

The door flung open, bouncing off the wall with a resounding bang. "Black, Potter, are you to take the Floo or Portkey?"

"Floo," James answered for both of them. The man who had interrupted them nodded and closed the door. James returned his attention to his best friend. "What were you saying Padfoot?"

Sirius pressed his lips together. "Never mind."

"You sure?" James asked slowly as he scrutinized his friend.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius sounded as if he was trying to convince himself instead of James, " Let's go, we have to tell the Order." Sirius clapped James on the back and headed out the door.

"Not everyone," James called after Sirius as he slung his coat onto his arms.

"Right, not everyone!" Sirius barked back, a crooked grin plastered on his face.

"So, now that everyone one is here – sorry for the short notice – we have some news." James and Sirius stood in the entrance to the kitchen of Sirius' tiny apartment. They looked around at the pale faces seated at the table.

"Charlie! Glad to see you are all right. You gave us quiet the scare!"

Charlie, still looking a bit raw and pained, grinned from his seat. "I owe it all to my dearest Uncles! I heard you boys had to bargain hard to get me out of the grasp of The Shadow," Fabian and Gideon waggled their eyebrows, "Speaking of which….He's the reason you called this meeting, right?"

"Indeed," began Sirius. He set his goblet onto the table. "This is highly classified information; it cannot leave this room. You were called because we trust you. You mustn't mention this meeting to anyone, nor any of the information you are about to receive.

This is because, as you all know, tensions between Order members has greatly increased after James and Lily's departure, breaking into factions. Those who agreed, and those who did not.

What use is The Order when we are not a united front? Those of us in this room – we are the ones who refused to be manipulated and lied too, we are the ones who see the truth. Together we will find out the truth of The Shadow, a boy who has managed to tangle communications and cause more chaos than the Marauders."

A smattering of giggles.

"Sirius and I have decided to form a new group, a group dedicated to finding out this truth – whatever it may be. Here, we will not be used and lied too. Our emotions will not be toyed with. But it must remain a secret. More secret than The Order. Not even rumors can be heard. Now, who's in?" James watched as the individuals at the table slowly raised their hands.

"Right, that's everyone then? Good, good. Sign here then take your coin." Sirius passed out gold Galleons to the new members, "They're quiet the nifty piece of work, similar to those Hermione created for the D.A, only you can speak to other members through them also – like those frog cards The Order uses."

James waited for everyone to settle before beginning. "Right," he clapped his hands together, "now that all that is out of the way, let's begin! As you all know, Sirius and I were at the interrogation of The Shadow– or Harry Potter, as he calls himself." The group exchanged glances. "We think….we think there is something very, very, strange about this whole situation, and what we witnessed only supports our beliefs."

"There are several intriguing pieces of information that cropped up during his little session."

"First," James began, "is of course the most obvious. His 'name'. Harry Potter. He was born July 31 1980."

A pregnant silence filled the room. Everyone looked at each other, confused. They didn't know what this meant – and neither did he. Was it a trick? Was it some weird coincidence? It was uncomfortable, whatever it was.

Sirius fluttered around the room. "Second is the boy maintains that he is not a Death Eater, nor a friend of our dearest Dark Lord. He has no dark mark."

Several people hmmd, others looked lost in thought.

"He maintains he has no knowledge of several of the major attacks – the recent train massacre, the attack on the ministry, that incident in Appleby. Says a Death Eater kidnapped him and he escaped."

"The called him squirt," Sirius added.

James continued, ignoring his friend, "he knows the prophecy, as Fabian and Gideon informed us earlier. Last, and most important thing, the boy – Harry- has never existed. There is no paper trail, his name is not on the Hogwarts book-"

"He never went there?" Asked Fabian who had turned a garish green color.

"Never," Sirius said as he shook his head.

"But, we saw, Fabian and me, he was in Gryffindor. His socks were Gryffindor colors. And he's had to of had some training in magic-"

"And Savage did tell me the boy flew very well, as if he'd played a lot of quidditch growing up," added Tonks.

"That," Sirius slammed his fist onto the table, startling several people, "That is what we are talking about. Does any of this make sense to you? Dumbledore perceives him – who has never existed! - as a threat, but everything the boy said today showed complete loyalty to Albus. He's an anomaly. There is more too this, and we need to find out."

"He's an advocate of Dumbledore – whom we all know the boy has had no direct contact with," James expanded.

"Well…" Lily began shyly. "Dumbledore may have tried to contact him…." The group stared hard at Lily.

"You didn't think to tell us this earlier?" Asked Tonks. "Dumbledore didn't think to-"

"That is why we have formed this group dearest cousin. Now, go on Lily-flower. How have you come across this most intriguing of information?"

"He wrote a letter to the boy. I saw it on his desk and I, well, I took it."

"You stole it?" James asked, mirth in his hazel eyes.

"Well. Yes. Yes, I did. And I have it with me too!" Lily threw the letter onto the tabletop.

Remus grabbed it,

" H- " He began to read.

"It has come to my attention that you are a man of innumerable talents and much daring. Why, I feel you would find yourself at home in the house of Gryffindor. Alas, our paths have not crossed in such a pleasant way. As you well know, there are people after you. Your luck has been exponential, but it shall soon run out. I shall cut this letter short, then, as I am sure, you are growing impatient. You are fighting for the losing side, a side that only serves to oppress your skills. I am writing you today to come to an agreement. For your knowledge of Voldemort's inner circle, I offer you protection. It is a dangerous task, but I have no doubt a wizard of your caliber will be able to perform it. Please respond as soon as possible, the letter will find the way.

-Albus Dumbledore"

"He's trying to recruit him as a spy," came Molly's horrified whisper.

The Healer, Cygnus Black according to the name tag on the man's robes, leafed through Harry's file rather casually as he walked to Harry's bedside. Cygnus Black. At this point he shouldn't be surprised at another dead person walking around. Again, the thought that he really was dead popped into his mind. If he was, this certainly wasn't heaven.

The Healer looked up at Harry after a moment, his eyes lingered on the ugly casts on his limbs instead of the scar on his forehead. He grabbed a chair and sat neatly into it.

"Why Potter?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"What?" Harry's voice cracked embarrassingly and he squirmed uncomfortably.

"Why choose the name Potter?" Cygnus thankfully ignored Harry's voice crack and gestured with his hands, "I mean you certainly bare a resemblance-"

"That's because I am one," Harry cut off Cygnus, already thoroughly annoyed.

"Of course you are-"

"Don't act all condescending about it! I am!" Harry snapped, leaning toward Cygnus as much as he was able to. He did not want to rip stitches or an IV out of his hand again.

"My apologies Harry, I did not mean to come off that way. Please, sit back so you do not pull stitches. Date of birth?" Cygnus wrote something in his file as he said this.

"Can't you just, I don't know, look at the file in front of your face?" Harry asked. He leaned back against his fluffy pillow and stared straight ahead into the desolate blankness of the white walls.

"Yes, but you need to verify. Just in case."

Harry repeated dully, "Just in case."

Cygnus looked up at Harry, "Harry, I'd rather this not be difficult. We have a week together, to work towards a proper diagnoses and lessening your sentence. "

"I haven't done anything wrong! Everything is just – it's so different!"

"We can talk about all this Harry, and we will, but I still need to verify your birth date."

Harry nodded. "Right. July 31, 1980."

Harry, despite his initial revulsion, found himself liking Healer Cygnus. He was easy to talk to, a great conversationalist, though somewhat annoying at times. The healer's presence eased his troubled mind. If they had met under different circumstances Harry would have considered him a friend. Harry returned his attention to the man sitting next to him.

"Tell me about Quirrel, Harry," Cygnus said.

"He smelled like garlic. Now that I think about it though, I think it might have been because Voldemort- you don't flinch? Amazing, most wizards do- was attached to the back of his head," Harry paused, "or he was trying to get the unicorn smell off his breath."

"Really."

Cygnus' monotone responses created the urge within Harry to get a reaction, even if it was a little one.

"But that was really nothing compared to the basilisk," Harry continued his story, trying to casually ignore Cygnus.

The sound of quill on parchment stopped.

"A basilisk?" Cygnus was looking intently at him now. He reminded Harry of Sirius.

"Yes," Harry snapped, annoyed, yet glad he finally received some sort of reaction. He needed more. Cygnus wrote something in his file. "Bloody stupid thing, too. Always wheezing about killing and ripping and tearing."

"You…could hear it talking?" This time Cygnus set down his quill, and the awe – or was it fear? – was evident in his voice.

Harry was intoxicated with the feeling it stirred up within him, being able to create these emotions within another being. He frowned at himself; perhaps there really was something wrong with his mind….

"Well, yes. It is a snake." Cygnus' face was blank, so Harry continued, "And I can talk to snakes so…"

The monotone voice was back, making Harry's ire rise rapidly.

"You can talk to snakes."

Harry swallowed the urge to spit in Cygnus' face. It wasn't even a question, it was a statement, one that he had said mere seconds before.

"Why do you insist on repeating everything I say?" He asked harshly. Cygnus wrote something down.

He found himself growing more attached to Cygnus and their sessions together. They would sit and talk about random items or events for hours at a time, Cygnus always writing something or other down. When the man was gone Harry was left with nothing to do but stare at the relentlessly white walls. He loathed to admit it to himself, but he looked forward to the time they spent together talking about Harry's life. It helped. It helped Harry cope with deaths and the burden placed upon him. But today was the last day of chatting. Harry had saved his favorite story for last – third year.

"So, let me get this straight," Cygnus put down his file – now several notebooks thick - and rubbed his eyes, "An escaped criminal and illegal animangus was trying to kill another illegal animangus when their friend transformed into a werewolf, at which point you were saved by yourself and your friend who had traveled back in time?"

Harry nodded slowly. The disbelief in Cygnus's voice propelled him forward.

"That sounds about right. But I wasn't done yet. I didn't even get to the part where the criminal – who was innocent - escapes on Buckbeak-"

"The hippogriff?"

"Yes," Harry clapped, "The very one that attacked Malfoy!"

Harry swore he saw a tiny smirk on Cygnus' face. "How did that make you feel, Harry?"

"When it attacked Malfoy? Pleasantly tingly." Now Harry was positive he saw a smirk. "Anyway, it was me who saved me from the Dementors, not my dad, as I had originally thought."

"These Dementors, Harry, how did they make you feel?" Cynus asked, his quill paused over his parchment, suspended in its usual limbo.

Harry stared at the man in disbelief, "I – are you honestly asking me that? How Dementors make me feel?" Cygnus nodded. "Well…pretty shitty. They do go around sucking out souls and happiness, after all."

Cygnus' face snapped into professor mode, something Harry had become accustomed to. "Dementors do more than just that-"

"I'm sure," Harry said, deciding to preemptively end the lecture, "I can see it now "Dementors on Ice", fabulous show that is. I just imagine them running around screeching about souls; they don't seem very smart. But oh no! The play is amazing really, opened my eyes to their complex existence - much more to their lives than screeching about souls."

Cygnus scribbled furiously in his notebook.

Cygnus Black crept silently through the darkened halls of . It was after hours. Only a few night shift healers working. He ducked into the shadows as a healer walked by. He remained there until the man walked into the fireplace.

The plan was simple, sneak into the File Room, steal several folders, destroy some shelves – make it look like an attack – and escape; nothing he couldn't do. Why he had to do this he didn't know. You don't question the Dark Lord's orders.

He stood in front of the shelves of medical files and tapped his foot impatiently.

"M…N….O…P. Here we go. Pettrelli, Porter…Potter, H." Cygnus grabbed the file and shoved it in his cloak.

He slowly began to retreat from the room, treading lightly. As soon as he reached the door, he grabbed a firework from his pocket – one of the new Wild-Fire Whiz Bangs – and threw the fizzing stick it into the room. It rolled to a stop next to the O cabinet. Crouched outside the room, Cygnus knew he had only one chance to get this right, timing being everything. As soon as the wick was at the end, about to ignite the firework, he stunned it, causing a huge explosion.

In the chaos, paper shredded and flying everywhere, several shelves on their sides, fire crawling upthe walls, the rain-cloud fire extinguishers pouring monsoon worthy amounts of water, Cygnus was able to escape unnoticed to the floo and away to Headquarters.

He strode into Voldemort's office, the file in his hand. "For you, my lord," he murmured, placing the folder on the desk before him.

"This is everything?" Voldemort asked, flipping through the pages absently.

"Yes my lord."

Lord Voldemort smirked. "Very well. Come with me, Cygnus, I would like a firsthand account before I read these. So dull. Shall we take a walk through the dungeons?"

Cygnus nodded and followed Voldemort out of the room.

He watched them exit the office minutes before. This was his chance. He had to do it quickly. He bit his lip…if he were to be caught….

His hand wavered over the brass knob. He stared at it before he lifted his gaze to the wood grain of the door. He took several deep breaths to steady his nerves.

"Quickly, before someone notices you lurking," he reprimanded himself. He turned the knob and slipped into the office, closing the door silently behind him.

There they were, sitting in plain sight on the Dark Lord's desk. Regulus quickly looked around the room. He nearly sprinted across it to the oak desk, grabbed the folder and eagerly flipped through its pages.

"Delusions. Paranoia. Severe mood swings –ha. All the good stuff. Professor Quirell feeding off of a unicorn? Delusions indeed. This should be interesting, to say the least. Not that I expected anything less."

Regulus set the file down and began to quickly copy pages. He heard a noise in the hall and paused. Not hearing it again he resumed copying at a more rapid pace. He could hear two people conversing in the hall, right outside the door. He grabbed the copied pages and shoved them into his cloak. He took several large steps toward the fireplace as the door was flung open. Regulus spun on his heel, his heart in his throat, and leaned casually against the fireplace.

"Dear cousin! Nice to see you around these parts again!" He called out cheerfully.

Cygnus' head snapped toward the voice. "Merlin you scared me! What are you doing in here?"

Regulus pushed himself off the fireplace. "Waiting to speak to The Dark Lord. Do you have an audience with him today? I can leave…" Regulus grabbed the bowl of floo powder off the mantle.

"No, no! No need to. You can join if you want. Actually, you should! I know you are interested in Healing Arts, and rumor has it the Dark Lord thinks you have great potential."

"Does he now? Well, if you think I should stay, I will." Regulus strode to the desk, well aware of the crinkling of the paper hidden within his cloak. He hoped Cygnus could not hear it. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Coming up with a plan to deal with The Shadow-"

"Capture him, Cygnus, a plan to capture him." Regulus and Cygnus sunk to their knees as Voldemort seemingly glided into his office. "Ah, Regulus! You will be joining us then?"

"Yes my lord," Regulus said.

"Good, good. It is for the best I believe. You, of all people here, are most capable of capturing The Shadow. You did it the first time did you not? It is a shame he was able to get away…" The Dark Lord trailed of menacingly, looking at Regulus appraisingly. Regulus' heart jumped, what if The Dark Lord knew?

"Indeed my Lord," Cygnus said, interrupting Regulus' thoughts.

Voldemort slid his cloak off his arms and draped it casually over the back of his stiff Victorian chair. "It will be most beneficial for us to persuade the boy to join our side. He knows far too much."

"Does he, my lord?" Regulus, against his better judgment, asked. He cringed inwardly and waited for a Crucio. Instead Voldemort let out a sinister chuckle, sat in his chair and grabbed the file.

"He does. He makes references to things….things only I, who has gone further than every wizard, know. He will make a useful ally, or else a dangerous enemy. Cygnus, what do you think the sentence will be? I know you think him, what was it? Oh yes 'raving mad. Worse than a hatter.'"

Regulus' mind reeled at this information. He would study the file once he got home. He would attend the trial. He had to find out what it was the boy knew that scared the Dark Lord.

"I believe he will be placed in a long-term ward, my Lord."

"That will be a sufficient place to keep him until he is needed. Make sure he gets there. You are dismissed."