A/N: To my lovely reviewers: terracannon876 (well, I figure we've all read The Philosopher's Stone and don't need all the information again), magiquill9, Airlady (which is why I heart them so), ahoyhoy, xXHidden SecretXx, The French Dark Lord (all that intelligence gives one a certain tendency to believe you can't talk to anyone, as Dumbledore does), the werewolf gal, EveBB, Iniga (well, if you insist), E. M. Emrys (he's always like that . . .), anomyme (no can do, sorry), Worldmaker, Lina03, lordsinuae (alas, it is not to be), enchantedlight, Athena Hermione Ravett (this should help, then, hmm?), greatstars, jayley (he starts looking smarter later, I promise), LoireLoa, laura sedai (thank you, thank you), Sharkiesgirl (thank you so much, I'm glad you're finding it original), Lady Padfoot21 (awesometastic . . . tee hee), jbalman, manuella (glad I didn't sound like a complete idiot, and the thing with tequila . . . just the first cheap way to get drunk that I thought of), Ivy (oh, don't go painting Snape with the good guy brush too soon!), KeyKeeper12 (well, just think, Hermione set Snape on fire in her first year!), 2smart4u (honestly, the Chamber of Secrets isn't going to be too exciting . . .)

And now on to the story! I hope you enjoy this little cameo!

Chapter Fourteen

"Pour us another round, would you? Excellent, thanks," he said to the bartender, and got up to grab their drinks from the wizened old wizard who was running the hotel bar this afternoon. "Merlin's beard, it's good to meet you," he said for the hundredth time. "It's been a while since I heard someone speaking proper English!"

Sirius and Harry (who were going by John and Evan, those being the first names that had popped into their head when asked) smiled in reply. The serious-minded young red-head had turned out to be quite effusive over a couple of drinks. Sirius/John ran a hand through his nearly blond hair, which was hanging in his eyes just enough to remind him how light he'd made it. Harry/Evan's fingers twitched on the table in his effort not to scratch his forehead, since after any number of concealment charms hadn't worked, he'd had to resort to Muggle makeup to cover the scar on his head.

It had started out so innocently, with Harry being delighted to point out to Sirius (whom he really must remember to call John) that there was someone else in Egypt who had a ponytail like he did. And then the owner of the bright red length of hair had overheard him. Harry had been a bit nervous to see the man come tromping over in dragonskin boots and with a fang dangling from his ear, but Bill had been overjoyed to meet an Englishman in this country.

Their story was simple: John Rivers and his wife had a little boy, named him Evan, then his wife died and England ceased to feel like home. They'd been out of the country since Evan was a baby. Bill Weasley (Sirius had looked at him very sharply when he gave his last name) was curious as to whether or not Evan liked to move around all the time like that, but Evan assured him that he was quite content. He was steadily becoming a great fan of Bill Weasley, who was really one of the most normal people he'd ever met, despite his line of work. Curse breaker was such a cool job.

"So, how's your education coming along?" Bill asked him politely while sipping his drink.

"All right," he answered cautiously, licking a bit of foam off his upper lip. Bill had been a little surprised that his new friend John was letting his pre-teen son order a beer, but young Evan was so unconcerned about it that Bill was starting to wonder if maybe they shouldn't let all kids start drinking that young so they could learn how to do it while under supervision. "I mean, good, mostly. I've gotten pretty far behind in a couple of things, but I've got a good background in Muggle subjects now."

"We're here on holiday while we decide on a good school for Evan to get up to snuff," Sirius explained.

"You're English, lads," Bill said, sounding surprised. "What about Hogwarts? Surely you went there yourself, Mr. Rivers?"

"I did," Sirius said gravely. "It's one we're considering, of course. But we've had such a fascinating life, it would almost be a shame to stop traveling around and learning about new cultures and so forth. We've both gotten a very healthy respect for the variety of wizards—and Muggles—in the world. Don't want to forget those lessons."

Harry was amused by how swiftly Sirius came up with that load of waffle. The truth was, Hogwarts hadn't even been on their minds, and they'd never expected to meet an Englishman who'd be interested in Harry's education. It was potions, magical creatures, and simply other wizards that Harry wasn't familiar with and needed to learn more about. Those could be found many other places than England and those places wouldn't cause Sirius to be thrown into jail and Harry to be shunted back into the Dursley's house. But with England being so much at the forefront of the conversation, it was only natural for Sirius to start asking questions.

"So tell me, who's Minister now?" he asked Bill, nursing his drink.

"That's Cornelius Fudge," Bill said promptly, and launched into a lengthy speech about the Minister's high and low points. Sirius looked a bit bored, but Harry tried to pay attention. This was going to be important to him eventually, he had a feeling, and he needed to start figuring out the government there. "Course, he's not listening to Dumbledore at all about You-Know-Who, so that's a strike against him—"

"You-Know-Who?" Sirius asked quizzically. "I'm afraid I don't know who."

Bill grimaced, and lowered his voice. Harry found it quite laughable, but he was afraid he knew to whom Bill was referring.

"Surely you were there, John, when he was in power and terrorising—"

"Oh, Voldemort," Sirius clarified, but with a frown.

Bill wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, letting out a nervous laugh. "Yes, him. You're the only Englishman I've ever met who'll say his name, except Dumbledore."

"Didn't know I wasn't supposed to," Sirius said with a shrug. "What was that you were saying, about the Minister Fudge not listening to Dumbledore . . .?"

"Oh, well," Bill said, and his face grew solemn. Paler, too. "I guess . . . he's back."

Sirius didn't want to show his shock, but his hand trembled on his glass a bit and his nostrils flared out as he took in a deep breath. "Back?" he muttered.

Harry was not surprised. Not really. Hadn't they been expecting this to happen someday? Why shouldn't it be now?

"My own brothers saw him."

"Your brothers? Didn't you say you have several?" Harry asked when Sirius seemed to be a long time recovering.

"Oh, yeah. This was the twins. They nearly got themselves killed, just a few months ago. One of the professors at Hogwarts, Quirrell this was, got caught up in it when he went on holiday or something, got confronted by . . ."

Bill told them the whole story, at least as he understood it by piecing together what he'd heard from his family and what he'd read in the paper. Sirius and Harry sat in rapt fascination throughout the tale, only grimacing a bit when Bill got to the part in which Quirrell was eaten by a dog. The twins seemed to have come out of it all right, none the worse for the wear except a little more committed to their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. "And of course they found out they hadn't been alone, which helped. The whole thing might have caused them to distrust adults altogether if it weren't for the fact that Professor Snape had been onto Quirrell and showed up to stop him only minutes after the twins did. They might not trust Dumbledore, but they trust Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Sirius asked, sounding merely polite. Bill didn't know Sirius like Harry did, or he'd realize that the man was actually on the verge of a very angry outburst. His face was pinched and he was grabbing something under the table with all his might.

"Mmm, yeah," Bill answered without concern, finishing off his drink. "I guess he had a touchy history, but he's supposed to be on our side now."

Harry remembered that name. The poor bastard that his dad and godfather had tormented so much in school, the one who'd gone over to Voldemort. Well, maybe he'd seen the light, or maybe he just wanted to be on the winning team. It was something he'd figure out if he was every face-to-face with the man, but he wasn't particularly worried about it yet.

"Well, I've got to get back to work," Bill said regretfully. "How long are you in town?"

"Not long," Sirius said cautiously. "Probably only a day or two."

"Ah, that's too bad," Bill said, his face falling. "Well, come back through here and we'll have a toast to send you on your way!"

"If we can," Sirius answered with a smile. "Thanks very much."

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry added, thrusting out his hand to shake.

"Yeah, you as well. Good luck with your education, if I don't see you, Evan."

"Thanks, Bill."

"You know somebody named Weasley, don't you?" Harry asked Sirius as they walked through a colourful bazaar.

Sirius chuckled. "I know him," he answered. "His parents were in the Order of the Phoenix, you know how I was telling you about that. Bill was only about nine or ten, last time I saw him. You know, I think Molly was pregnant when your mother was, Bill must have a brother or sister just your age. Not those twins, though, I think they were already born . . ."

"He didn't recognize you," Harry pointed out.

"No," Sirius said, sounding quite pleased about it. "I don't look too much like I did back then. Filled out some and gotten a few lines around the eyes, you know. And the last time he saw me would have been a picture in the paper when I escaped Azkaban, and I certainly wasn't looking my best, there." (True enough, Harry remembered how he'd looked then.) He glanced down at Harry with a wry smile. "And then there's you. Cover up that scar, and you're free as a bird."

Obviously feeling good about their disguise, minimal though it was, he ruffled Harry's hair affectionately, creating a worse mess than it was usually in. Harry scowled at him. He didn't know why people were always doing that.

But Bill having a sibling his age, that was interesting to think about. He liked Bill, and it sounded like he came from a good family. A sibling of his could be a close ally. Maybe even a friend—but that was a strange idea. He'd never really had any friends. People he talked to at school and stuff, of course. But the closest he'd ever been to having real friends was in Wyoming, and those weren't boys you wanted to talk to about serious stuff, anyway. There was Miguel and Catalina, of course, but they were so much older than him . . . and he needed to stop thinking about them.

He glanced up at Sirius. They'd left Brazil only a week ago, and he was thinking about Catalina nearly all the time. Harry could tell quite easily when he was. Sirius just looked sad and distant all the time. It hurt Harry terribly. He'd told Sirius that it would only be a few years before he was ready to strike out on his own, and it was okay to stay. He wouldn't have minded staying there with Sirius for a few more years. But Sirius had been right, of course. Catalina wasn't a witch, and someday, that would make a difference. He'd told her that he was a wizard, and she'd been prepared to accept that even if she didn't really understand . . . but someday, she'd get hurt by it. Which was, of course, Harry's fault, Harry knew that. It was association with him that would put her in harm's way. And he felt completely wretched that Sirius had chosen him over the woman he loved enough to marry. He didn't think his godfather had realized Harry's guilt yet, he was too miserable himself. Harry hoped he'd get himself under control and rein in his feelings before Sirius took notice. He didn't want to make Sirius feel worse.

"It's a good thing we got on the move when we did," Sirius said thoughtfully, his hands running over a beautiful piece of cloth at a stall he'd wandered over to, looking eerily similar to one of Catalina's favourite skirts. Well, if Harry hadn't already known he was thinking about her . . .

"What do you mean?"

"You need proper training," Sirius said grimly. "Now."

"Then you believe Bill? About Voldemort?"

"Of course. His family is well connected to Dumbledore, and that man has always been a step ahead of the rest of us as far as Voldemort is concerned." He chuckled. "You-Know-Who." He shook his head in disbelief. "That's what I get for not keeping up with the news."

The man running the stall was expounding on the qualities of the cloth in Sirius' hands, but neither of them were listening.

Harry shrugged. "I thought it was probably true. We were expecting it, though, weren't we? That he'd come back?"

"Expecting? No. But I'm certainly not shocked. From what Bill was saying, most people refuse to believe anything of the kind. I'm not sure I blame them for being in denial. It was a terrible time, when he was in power." He handed money over to the stall owner, but turned to give Harry a dark look. "He came after you then. He may do so again."

"How can he, if I'm not there? How will he find me?"

"He's a resourceful wizard. Best not to take our current anonymity too lightly. As I said, you need proper training, while you have the chance to get it." He stared off into the far end of the bazaar, a frown on his face. "Got moving just in time," he muttered.

Harry nodded. "Where are we going to go?" he asked, as they began to stroll down the row of stalls again.

"No idea," Sirius said, almost smiling. "But we never have planned too far ahead, have we?"

"I guess not," Harry said, also smiling tentatively.

Sirius looked down at his own hands and blinked. "Why did I buy this?"

Harry burst out laughing. "I don't know, Sirius, I think it would make a very fine set of dress robes."

Sirius laughed, too, and grabbed both ends to make a loop, which he used to lasso Harry and trap his arms at his sides. "You scoundrel! You just stood there while I bought this?"

Harry shrugged, laughing his head off. "I thought you must want it for something."

"You knew well and good I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing."

"Don't worry," Harry said, gasping for air. "It was cheap." Then he straightened up, very suddenly serious. "Hey," he said. "It's my twelfth birthday in two days."

"Yes, I know," Sirius said, sounding suspicious.

"You said I could pick out my gift, didn't you?"

"I said within reason," Sirius called out as Harry dashed forward, and then sighed deeply as he saw where his charge was headed. "No!" he called out. Harry grinned and started asking questions from the man leaning against the post of the stall. "No!" Harry pointed to him to be sure the man understood who had the money, here. "No, no, no!"

Then Harry held out his arm, and the little monkey with the smashed-looking face scrambled over his arm and perched on his shoulder the way he'd been perching on the stall owner's. Harry controlled the impulse to giggle at the way the monkey's smelly fur tickled his neck, and stood still to let it smell his hair and compare it to his previous owner.

"I will not," Sirius said as he approached, shaking his head and frowning. "I refuse to buy you that thing for your birthday."

The monkey chattered angrily at Sirius and grabbed hold of Harry's shirt tightly, prepared to defend itself against the threat. It got too agitated and fell right off Harry's shoulder. Harry's hands flashed out and caught it, and the little creature scolded him ferociously, upside down in his grip.

"I'm going to call it Dudley," Harry said with a grin.