A/N - Hello! Here's another chapter for you. It was getting really long, though, so I've split it up into two, which I'm sure none of you will complain about. Thank you so incredibly much to everyone who sen encouraging notes to me. It definitely made it easier to get back into this. I am so grateful for the enthusiasm of all you faithful readers out there. There are still people reviewing that I remember from way back at the beginning of this journey. So thank you again, to all of you. I hope I continue to entertain you with this story.

Chapter 15 – To the Ministry

One thing Harry had forgotten about Grimmauld Place was how oppressively dark it was. Even though he could see quite well, from one end of a room or hallway to the other without obstruction, still he felt as though he needed to navigate with arms outstretched, lest he ram unceremoniously into a wall or a stair rail. It was a darkness that had been built up in munge and despair for a very long time, and it oozed into every pore if he wasn't careful to keep his mind focused elsewhere. It was no wonder, really, that everyone had been so bad-tempered the last time he'd been here. It was nearly impossible to feel anything but black depression and pessimism in these halls. Still, it was what it was, and there was no changing it now. And thankfully, neither he nor Sirius would be here for much longer.

Harry glanced up from his paltry meal at the clock hanging above the kitchen sink. It was nearly 9:00. He and Sirius had talked, and read, and rested all day long. It was the most companionable he'd felt in this house for as long as he could remember. But now it was nearly time. In a matter of minutes, Harry would leave the house and head to the Ministry, where he would wait for an opportunity to enter. Sirius would drink his potions and wait for the summons from the Order – a summons he still knew nothing about, despite his many attempts to weasel details out of his godson. Harry could feel the now familiar thick bubble of anxiety congealing in his stomach. It was beginning. If this didn't work, he'd be right back where he started. Sirius would be dead. Harry also realized that this second chance was something he owed entirely to the compassion and ingenuity of his mother. He had given up all hope of reviving Sirius when he'd arrived at Godric's Hollow later than planned. Lily had given him hope, and he didn't want to waste it. At the very least, he had an opportunity to let Sirius know how much he meant to him.

But then, he hadn't told Sirius, had he? Despite this opportunity, he still hadn't actually said it. Realizing the time of his departure was near, and there was no telling when someone from the Order might show up, Harry stood and left the kitchen. He threw open the door to the study with more force than he'd intended. Sirius, who had been staring morosely into an empty potion bottle while sitting in front of the fire, leapt to his feet in surprise and drew his wand on instinct. Upon seeing who it was, Sirius's eyes softened. "Harry, what–" He didn't get a chance to finish.

"I was just thinking, if you die, if this doesn't work," Sirius blanched, " then you wouldn't know, because I never told you." Harry paused and took a deep breath. He was never good at this sort of conversation.

"Told me what?" Sirius prompted.

"Told you…" He stopped. How to say it? Openly declaring affection was a tricky business. He'd never even told Ginny how he felt about her, which is probably why nothing much ever happened between them, except that thing in sixth year, right before everything went to hell. He shook himself free of his thoughts and looked back at his bewildered godfather. Out with it, Potter, he said to himself. Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you?

"I never blamed you." Oh. That wasn't what he'd been planning to say. Sirius looked confused.

"Blamed me for what?"

"For Pettigrew," answered Harry. "For what happened that night."

Sirius's eyes blurred, and Harry plowed on, suddenly realizing how much he needed to say this. "I was there when you convinced Dad to switch. Your argument made perfect sense. I mean, everything you said about people not suspecting him, you were right. It was Peter's fault, not yours. I… I don't want you to beat yourself up about it, and I know that's all you've been doing all this time. And you shouldn't. You really shouldn't. You didn't betray anyone's trust, and Mom and Dad never blamed you either, because they trusted you, and so do I."

There were actually tears on Sirius's face now. He clearly needed to hear this as much as Harry needed to let it out. Sirius looked like he was about to say something, but Harry knew that if he stopped now, he'd never finish, so he kept talking.

"And another thing. When you were," his voice cracked, "dead, I finally figured out how much you meant to me, how much just knowing you were out there, believing in me, kept me going. And I'd never told you. You're sort of a weird brother/uncle/dad mix, and I've really come to, just, appreciate everything you've done for me. It's really… nice, too, knowing I mean something to you, because I never meant anything to anybody as a kid, so…" Harry looked up from studying his feet. "Thanks."

Sirius took three steps forward and wrapped his arms around Harry, who embraced him back without any hesitation. "Everything you just said," said Sirius, "right back at you."

The evening was unbearably slow after that. Harry felt relieved that he had settled things with Sirius, but that did not ease the intense anxiety in his gut which every moment threatened to exit through his mouth. Harry had apparated with his invisibility cloak to a side street near the Ministry, and was now crouched outside the phone booth on a small patch of grass with a bush and a lamppost, berating himself for more than usually poor planning skills. As much as he'd thought it over, he still hadn't come up with any reliable way of getting inside the Ministry unnoticed. If only Hermione were here, he thought, and an image of his bushy-haired, book-loving friend popped into hi mind and made him smile. He wondered where she was, how she had been faring in the many months it had been since he'd had any contact with her. The war had separated them all, and it was difficult to get as much as a "hello, I haven't died yet" from one person to another. He hadn't seen her, or Ron, or Ginny, or Remus or Tonks. In fact, the only person from his Hogwarts days that he'd really been in touch with in the last few months was Percy. Percy was, in fact one of the last two people he'd spoken to before heading back in time to Godric's Hollow. He laughed a little at the memory, and pulled his invisibility cloak a little closer around him. He and Percy did not see eye-to-eye on a number of things, and one of them had been Harry's plan. He remembered that conversation vividly.

He had been fitting Hedwig with a small device to help keep track of her when he made the jump, and Percy had been leaning up against the door, arms crossed, glasses perched on the end of his sagacious nose, looking altogether disapproving.

"If you're going to come in, then come in," Harry said crossly, "or go. You're making me nervous just hovering in the door like that."

Percy took a few steps forward to stand next to the desk. "This is mental," he said.

"You've mentioned that before, Perce."

"I know, but at that point you were just thinking a quick trip there and back, information gathering, that sort of thing. I was referring to the odds of you making such a long trip and making it back accurately and in one piece. Now you've got this whole complicated thing you want to do, stretching the improbable to it's breaking point, and you're even trying to side-along an animal, which destabilizes the whole thing. Have you completely lost what little mind you had?"

"You talk too much. Let me work."

"This is never going to work."

"You don't know that." Harry stood and moved across the room, checking a potion that was merrily bubbling away, making a few notes on a clipboard, and checking the clock on the wall.

Percy followed him, absently checking Harry's notations to make sure they were accurate and within established parameters. "You can't do this. It goes against every Magical law there is, not to mention every scientific and biological rule in existence!"

Harry sighed. "Magic by its very nature goes against Muggle science. That's not the sort of argument I'd expect you to come up with. I generally have a harder time deflecting them." Indeed, they often had long arguments about subjects that Harry was far less knowledgeable in, but no less opinionated. He often left the arguments red-faced and fuming because he was unable to prove his point.

"This whole operation is madness! Have you even considered the consequences if you should fail?"

"I won't fail. I'm not the failing sort." Another notation. Hedwig hooted softly and started chewing on a long quill pen. The potion steamed and gave a little whistle.

"This is insane. You're not qualified…"

"I know what I'm doing." He didn't argue the qualification point because, honestly, who was qualified for this sort of thing? Nobody, that he knew of.

"No you don't, this is purely conjecture." Percy's voice was getting more shrill by the moment. "You're trying to piece together a theory that doesn't exist!"

"It does exist," said Harry patiently.

"Because you thought of it?"

"No, I didn't, actually. I found it. It's credible. Now be quiet, I need to think."

"It's credible because you found it? That's not the sort of argument I'd expect you to come up with."

"I guess we're both being surprising today, aren't we?" It was a deflection, and he knew it. He hadn't told Percy the source of his information – namely, his father's journals – because he knew it would spark more questions and doubts and conversations that he just didn't want to have. In fact, part of the reason Percy was so frustrated with him was because of how little information Harry had disclosed. But there was another reason, as well, one which he knew Percy would never admit to. He was worried. And, deep down, he understood the need to keep a family together.

"It's too dangerous. It's not just yourself you're putting at risk, it's me, and everybody else in the Wizarding World!"

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"You're going to regret this."

"No I'm not."

Percy blocked Harry's path and looked him squarely in the eye. "You're going to get yourself killed," he said, his voice quiet and intense.

"No I'm not." At least, hopefully not.

"You're going to get other people killed."

"That is the general idea," said Harry sarcastically.

Percy rolled his eyes. "You're crazy."

"So I've been told."

Harry pushed past Percy and moved back to the table. "I know what your opinion is, Percy. You've made it abundantly clear. What I don't understand is, why did you come in here to rehash it now? I leave in less than an hour."

Percy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. There was a long pause as Harry shuffled some papers and Hedwig hopped up onto his shoulder. Harry turned around to find Percy regarding him shrewdly. "You know we can't win this, right? The way things are, we can't hope to win this war."

"I know."

"Everybody out there, they've either given up on you, believing you're dead or incompetent, or they're waiting for you to come in and save them." Harry nodded. "Right now, I don't know which side I'm on."

"Which side do you want to be on?" asked Harry.

Percy shrugged. "I don't know. I want there to be hope again, and peace. I want our government stable, and education available to everyone again. I don't want people in hiding. I want…" he blinked and swallowed. "I want my family back. But I don't know if I can trust you. If I put all my faith in this, this ridiculous, unfounded, fantastical idea of yours, then if and when you don't come back, what do I have left? What do any of us have left?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I don't know," he said. "I try not to think that far ahead right now. All any of us can do right now is fight for the present, for the right to live. We have to hold onto whatever we have, and refuse to let it go. That's really all I can say about that. And I can't make up your mind for you, about whether or not to believe in me. Sometimes I don't believe in me either, but I have to try. That's always been true for me, no matter what I've faced. I have to try."

"And somehow, despite the odds, you always seem to do all right." Percy hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a package. "Look, I didn't come in here to bash on you again, I really didn't. The truth is, whether I like it or not, you are the only thing I can put my faith in right now. I don't know if I can, completely, but there is one thing I can do." He handed the package to Harry, who took it carefully, and gently pulled open the strings.

When Harry had been captured by the mongrels, the ensuing struggle had left several people injured, and his invisibility cloak in tatters. The mongrels had thrown it away, deeming it beyond repair. Something so inherently magical would be almost impossible to fix, and none of them had the skill to even attempt it. It wouldn't even sell well on the black market. Harry had believed it lost forever, his last tangible connection to his parents. But now, as he opened the paper sides of the clumsily wrapped package in his hands, and a glitter of familiar soft fabric caught his eye, he had to catch his breath in astonishment. He looked up at Percy, who was looking anywhere but at Harry.

"I can't do much from here, you know, but I am pretty good with magic, and fixing magical artifacts, and, well, I guess there's only one thing to say." And he turned back, his eyes more serious than Harry had ever seen them. "Good luck."

Harry shook himself free of the memory and focused back on the entrance to the ministry. The old Percy was probably inside right now, he thought, trying and failing to be a politician. But this Percy wouldn't be any help to him at all, too preoccupied with rules and reputation, and too narrow-minded to understand the urgency of the problem. Harry scanned the sky, hoping the DA hadn't arrived yet. He just needed to figure out how to get in, and then the rest of it he could figure out on the fly. He was sure he could get in either by himself (two visitor tags reading "Harry Potter – rescue mission" would surely cause some suspicion in the Ministry offices) or crammed into the phone booth with six other people. By process of elimination, this meant that he couldn't get in at all, but that wasn't an option he was willing to consider. He examined the side of the building, hoping for some indication of another entrance, but the Ministry was so carefully and skillfully concealed that no one, muggle or wizard, could actually see it until they were inside. It was effectively impossible to break into.

At that moment Harry felt a shadow pass over him, and within moments he saw six bony thestrals gliding towards the ground. He stood, tucking his cloak around him, and eased his way forward very slowly. As his friends approached the phone booth, Harry caught a glimpse of his younger self and was reminded with unwelcome clarity of the terror he had felt that night. He hesitated. There were only a few moments before the DA disappeared inside, but no brilliant last minute plans were forthcoming. He sighed, and one of the thestrals perked up its ears at the noise and whickered softly. Luna turned interestedly towards Harry and stared through him for a few moments. Harry held his breath. They couldn't see him now, or at all. The risks were too great. Ignore it, Luna, just go inside, he said to himself, willing her to follow his instructions.

"Luna, come on!" came Ginny's voice, but the blonde girl didn't move. "What is it, Luna? Did you hear something?"

Luna cocked her head to the side and commented mildly, "That bush just sighed. I think perhaps it is suffering from a deflated aura. See how the twigs are drooping and sharp?"

"The twigs are supposed to be sharp. They're twigs. Come on, we're wasting time!" said Ron, his voice slightly muffled in the phone booth.

"Don't, Ronald, you'll upset it. Bushes have feelings too, you know," said Luna, turning to squeeze into the booth. She closed the door almost as an afterthought, and a moment later they all disappeared.

Harry shook himself. That had been his one and possibly only chance, and he knew it, but no matter what way you looked at it, there wasn't any way to get in there without them noticing a seventh body in such a tight space. He kicked out at the bush in frustration as the closest thestral eyed him with mild interest. "Oh, don't tell me you've got a deflated aura as well," Harry snapped at it. There was a light snort, and the thestral quivered slightly. If Harry hadn't known better, he would've sworn the beast was laughing at him. Harry failed to see the humor in the situation.

Minutes passed as Harry sulked in the shadows. The thestral continued to stare at him, and Harry was becoming increasingly uncomfortable under its scrutiny. Finally he couldn't take it any longer. "Look," he said, uncovering his head and shoulders, "that is really starting to creep me out. Would you please stare somewhere else for a while?"

To his utter astonishment, the animal turned its skeletal face away from him, and began to gaze at the moon. Harry collapsed onto the ground and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Think, Harry," he muttered. "Think think think!"

Seconds turned into more minutes as Harry stood and paced the wall up and down, running his fingers across the hard surface of what had once been some sort of animal feed warehouse, according to the faded paint about ten feet above his head. What was happening inside right now? Had they reached the room with the prophecies yet? They may even have smashed the shelves. It was difficult to say. It had been a rather long time ago, after all, and his memories of that part of the Ministry were fuzzy. Maybe they were running pell mell through the halls. Were they in the time turner room, or slashing those spinning doors? Merlin, he had to get in there. Stupid wards wouldn't let him find a door…

"Having a spot of difficulty, are we?"

Harry spun around in shock, crying out the stunning spell before he'd even noticed he'd drawn his wand. He felt the magic surge through his gloves and spit angrily from the tip of his wand, but the spell dissipated in moments, and he found himself staring into the twinkling blue eyes of none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.