"The death of the living,

may also be the life of the ghost"-

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Living Death

Dumbledore paced his office quietly while his phoenix, Fawks, looked on. Through the window the sun was rising, bringing about a new day, but the professor was not concerned. It had been impossible for him to sleep since hearing the news. In the late hours of the previous night, Shacklebolt and a horribly shaken Tonks stepped out of his fireplace to deliver the dreadful results. Dumbledore found himself feeling as heartbroken as he did on the night he heard the news of the Potter's death. Tonks could not stop crying and Shacklebolt could barely look the professor in the eyes.

As Dumbledore continued his walk around the office, he regretted not visiting the Weasleys that night, but he believed it was better to give them their space. All he had done was pat his members on the back and ask them to deliver his condolences. They had agreed, but were sure the Weasleys would hear none of it in their current state. Dumbledore had nodded and asked them to try anyways. He would be visiting them as soon as he could. He watched them leave and prepared himself for what he was going to say. Usually Dumbledore knew the right thing to say, whether or not that person wanted to hear it, and he almost always knew how to console others. He recalled having to help Harry cope with the loss of his godfather on the night of Sirius's death. Harry had been so full of anger and hate that he nearly destroyed his office. If Harry had continued his rampage, Dumbledore was sure he would attack him rather than his precious relics.

He sighed. It wasn't easy to get him to calm down, but he had done it. Now he would have to do it again. After the number of times he was forced to reveal awful truths and comfort people, he still had trouble doing it. No one could tell, but it pained and tired him to do so; but in the world they were living in it was a common job.

Dumbledore paused in his movements and stood at the window. In a few minutes students would be hurrying down the hall to attend their classes. In one hour, Dumbledore would normally be making his way to the Great hall for breakfast, but instead, he would be heading to St.Mungos. The Weasley children Ron and Ginny would be absent for the day in order to be by their parent's side. He wasn't sure if they would be able to ease Mrs.Weasley's feelings or not; either way, he would still make the journey.

Dumbledore smiled sadly to himself as he looked out at the grounds. "I wonder how Harry and Sirius are taking this." He understood the tension generated whenever Sirius was involved. He and the Order had discussed it before, but they had never decided on a set reason for the horrible happenings. Of course, they did reveal their theories that Sirius was involved and regardless of what Dumbledore said or thought at that moment, deep down, he knew the truth. He had hoped the others would be understanding toward Harry and Sirius and not treat them in a fashion similar to the Dursleys, but he knew it would be impossible for them not to now. He had and continued to respect their thoughts on the matter, but he still wished for them to treat Sirius fairly until the situation could be resolved. There only seemed to be one safe resolution for the pair now.

"Albus"

Dumbledore knew who the quiet voice belonged to without having to turn around. "Good morning Minerva, though I fear, it may not be as good as I'd hoped."

He heard her coming forward, so he turned to face her. "I'm sorry to come in this way but-"

"Think nothing of it my dear," said Dumbledore raising a hand to brush off the excuse. "The time for politness is past us at this moment. Now, what do you wish to see me about?"

"I only came to inquire about your departure."

"Ah, yes. Well, I will be leaving shortly. I do not expect to return until later this evening. Do look after the school while I'm gone and any other affairs that may arrise during my absence."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Yes, of course." She stood in the center of the room watching Dumbledore tidy up his desk before leaving. "Is there anything else you wish to ask?"

"No, not at the moment, but do give my condolences to Molly and Arthur."

"Of course."

"And.." She paused trying to figure out how best to phrase her question. Dumbledore looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "And, be sure and give them to Potter as well." Dumbledore wasn't sure if Harry should hear any form of apologies. It would only make him believe they were blaming Sirius again. "Uh, I didn't mean it like that," McGonagall said quickly. "What I mean is-"

"I understand." Dumbledore headed over to the fireplace, threw a dash of Floo powder to the flames and stepped inside. "And fear not. Harry and Sirius will be all right. I'll see to that." The green flames rose and Dumbledore was gone.

He walked down the stairs as quietly as he could and stopped to listen. There was complete silence which meant no one was in the house. Harry gazed around, wondering if they were being this quiet on purpose in a way to brush him off, but it was obvious that he was alone. Sirius was in his arms and he acknowledged this as well. No one had come and probably wouldn't be coming for days. They were on their own.

It was the second day since Mrs.Weasley had found out she was not going to be a mother again, and the blow was so severe that she and Mr.Weasley remained in St.Mungos. The rest of her family remained their as well, hoping to provide comfort. The Order, Harry assumed, had gone to inform Dumbledore and then either returned to the hospital or returned to their work. None of them had bothered to stop by Grimmauld Place. None of them had bothered to say a word to Harry as he left the hospital, unable to say anything to anyone. He thought they would all return, if not that night then the next morning, but no one did. They were alone in the house and Harry was sure no one cared anymore what happened to him or his godfather. He understood why they would behave in such a cruel manner and agreed. They shouldn't care. They should ignore them, in fact they should hate them. The curse had struck again and this time, it took a life. He had no one to blame but himself. If only he hadn't brought Sirius, if only he had stayed home away from Mrs. Weasley, then the baby might have had a chance. It was a comforting thought, but Harry knew it wouldn't have mattered. The baby's fate was sealed the moment it was conceived. Harry considered contacting his wizarding family, but he didn't have the courage to do so. Everytime he got a bit of parchment and a quill and prepared himself to write, he put them aside. He couldn't come up with the right things to say, nor could he force himself to deliver the message when he did write something down. It was impossible for him at the moment.

Harry walked into the kitchen, still aware of their isolation, but open to the idea of someone present somewhere in the house. He stood at the entry imagining Mrs. Weasley preparing a hot breakfast. There was no one there of course. Harry glanced at Sirius before placing him in the high chair. "Looks like we'll be having cereal." Sirius grumbled quietly to himself, but Harry heard him. "You know very well we can't do anything about it. I don't cook well and we certainly couldn't eat the bacon in the refrigerator, unless you want to eat it raw." Sirius blinked at him and gave a small nod. His godson turned away and pulled down a box of cornflakes for himself and Sirius. They'll never come back, Sirius thought to himself. So long as I'm here. I'm finished. It's over. Harry placed a small bowl of cereal on his tray and placed his own bowl on the table. Sirius crunched a few flakes with his small fingers and stared at them with malice. Damn body, he cursed. His face was livid. This DAMN BODY! He banged his fist so hard on the tray that the bowl bounced and flakes flew everywhere. Harry turned his way instantly. The pain it causes,...it's too great... He was seething with rage. Harry felt himself pitying his godfather. "Sirius." Better off dead... "Sirius." Sirius turned to him with flashing eyes. He didn't appear to see his godson at all. BETTER OFF DEAD!

Harry was alarmed to see his godfather's narrowed eyes and face contorted in anger. Harry dropped his spoon. Now Sirius seemed to be struggling to leap out of the high chair. He was twisting and kicking and banging his little hands so furiously that he looked liked he was possesed by a demon. "Sirius what's-" But before he could further question his godfather's actions, he started screaming. It didn't sound like normal baby bawlings, it was coming out like a string of curses directed at Harry. Sirius wasn't exactly articulate yet, but Harry understood what his cries were. "Sirius stop this--" Again he was interrupted as Sirius banged both fists and sent the bowl flying and breaking on the floor. Harry grabbed ahold of his godfather's shoulders, holding him in place, then he stared straight into his eyes. "Sirius,...Sirius!" He actually calmed down a bit, but he was still glaring at Harry. "Enough." That was all it took to make him realise how he had been acting. A look of horror and shame replaced the anger. What have I done. Harry released his grip on his shoulders and repaired the broken bowl and cleaned up the cereal with his wand. Harry...I'm sorry...I don't know what got into me. Sirius hung his head in thought. For one frightening moment he feared he might have actually been possessed. Sirius had never thought of it out loud, but he predicted the bad luck around them was of a spiritual nature; his death and return to life should have been proof enough of that already. He considered the idea of some hellish demon plotting revenge on Sirius, for the unfair second life, reeking havoc all around. He considered it possible, afterall it wasn't long before he had met up with James' ghost. But then he threw it aside. It was a tantrum. Is wasn't like he hadn't had them before. He recalled shouting out blame at Peter Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack and nearly jumping off the edge when arguing with Mrs.Weasley.

He felt his stomach turn at the thought of her. She might never look at him again. Nor talk to him. A year ago when he was fighting with her, he might have wished for that, but now...

"It's okay," said Harry, and Sirius saw Harry's compassion shining in his eyes. "I'm just as angry as you are..but I guess, we are to blame." Sirius raised his eyebrows. After all those weeks he spent convincing others he was okay and not a danger to anyone, his godson was going back on his word? Harry rubbed his weary eyes. "If only we knew more about what's happening.If only--" He froze as the obvious suddenly hit him. "Of course. Why didn't I think of it before?" He looked over at a confused Sirius. "Christoff." Sirius's face brightened slightly. Well, he was responsible for this whole mess. I suppose he would know. Then his face darkened. But, he is a dark-dealer, let us not forget that. Harry wasn't paying attention to his godfather's concern. Instead he reached for a piece of parchment and a quill. "He told me to contact him whenever I needed him. I could have used his help before now, but I was relying on Dumbledore." Though Harry was thrilled at his own genius idea, another thought occurred to him which made him quite nervous. What if Christoff didn't know anything about this? Upon their first meeting, Harry didn't really trust him, even though he accepted his service. Considering what Professor Lupin had told him about the Order's encounter with him, Christoff didn't seem to know exactly what he was doing. He remembered Lupin telling him that Christoff admitted not knowing what was going on. He had as much of an idea as Dumbledore and anyone else did. But Harry wasn't sure he could rely on such information. He could be hiding something, as Lupin admitted. If he was so desperate to escape, he'd tell them anything; but that couldn't be ruled out completely. That also didn't mean he would be entirely truthful to Harry. He was on the darkside afterall, but Harry could see no other way. I'm desperate now, he thought to himself. What other choice do I have? Dumbledore doesn't know, nor Snape or anyone else around here. It's already taken one life...if I don't do something soon. What could it hurt to ask. He smoothed out the parchment and began writting.

To Mr. Archavius Christoff,

You told me to contact you whenever I needed you. Well, I could use your help now. I would have asked for it sooner, but I was hoping to find help here.

He paused, considering how much information he could give about his contact with the Order. He supposed if he knew about his relationship with them, he might turn his back.

I don't suppose you've heard, but I tried the product you sent me to bring back a loved one.

Harry glanced up to see Sirius watching him intently.

Well it worked, but not the way I hoped. You see, he's turned into a baby and if that wasn't enough, all kinds of terrible things have been happening. It's like he's become bad luck. No one knows what's going on. No one here can help, but I figured you can. I would like to have a talk with you.
Harry stopped again, thinking. He didn't realize how much he needed his answers now until he thought of everyone who had tried to help him. They weren't coming back anytime soon, but if they did, he was sure to get the cold shoulder. Harry needed the solution right away, especially if they did return. He didn't want anyone else to die. Sirius gave him a questioning look. "I'm not sure this is going to work. Hedwig's not here and I need to know what to do now." Harry started to crumble the paper. Sirius looked away. I'm sorry Harry, but in my opinion, it probably wasn't a good idea anyway. You don't want to be associating with people like Christoff.

"If only I could-" He paused and turned to the direction of the stairs. "Hang on, I think Christoff did give me an address to visit him." What's that! Sirius looked up alarmed. It's one thing to write to him, but to go there, in person...Harry! It was too late. Harry was already racing up the stairs to his bedroom in search of Christoff's letter.

He pulled out drawers and moved aside papers, he flipped through the pages of some of his books, and he searched through his book bag, but he couldn't find it. Harry kicked the bed in frustration. "Where is it?" He didn't know. He wasn't so sure he had brought it with him in the first place. He rubbed his temples and tried to calm down, but his need of the address kept his heart pumping. He was so close. Then he saw it, positioned under the book that had brought him so much trouble. He stared at it for a moment before putting it aside and reaching for the parchment. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was the letter he had been looking for. Quickly he scanned the letter for the address. "666 Enchanted Avenue; Fireplace 9."

Sirius dreaded the idea of meeting Christoff. He dreaded even more the idea of his godson taking up with such a man. This is a mistake. We shouldn't be doing this. We'll just have to take our chances with the others...Though he wasn't confident in the idea. "Sirius this is it! I found it." Sirius grimanced as his godson ran down the stairs with the letter in his hand. Not good Harry. You'd have been better to have lost it. No good can come from this man, he's a dark dealer. Harry was now standing in front of him. "This is it, see, 666 Enchanted Avenue; Fireplace 9." Sirius shook his head vigoriously. We musn't do this! He can't help us. Look what he did to me! He spread out his arms to exaggerate his point.

"Oh come on Sirius, it will be fine, you don't need to worry. That's why he made it specific. We'll be alone--"

That's what I'm afraid of

"So we don't have to worry about anyone else seeing us there."

Sirius sat quite still and looked at him pleading. Harry, you are sixteen years old, surely you have enough sense to realize what you are risking? Harry stared back at him. If you can't understand anything I say, understand that at least, how I feel. How Sirius wished he could speak now, but on the expression of Harry, he might not have needed to. Harry's eyes softened."I know you're nervous about this,...and I know I have to be careful, but this is now a matter of life and death. Surely you understand that, out of everyone I know." Sirius understood what he was trying to say. Ever since Harry had met him, Harry had had to deal with Sirius's addiction to risking his life and making reckless decisions. Well one of his reckless decisions had cost him his life and it might cost Harry's as well. Now Sirius was forced to feel what Harry felt when he had informed him of his ideas. Harry had worried about him and had tried to stop him. To ease his fears, Sirius gave in. It was the other way around now, but Sirius had no chance of persuading Harry, especially since he himself was desperate to stop the paranormal activities. But was an outside meeting with a wizard of darkness worth it?

"Come on Sirius. Surely you don't want to spend the rest of your life in diapers." Sirius looked away in thought. "Having your bum wiped for you." Sirius turned a deep red and looked up with narrowed eyes. Let's go.

In a few minutes Harry, with Sirius in his arms, was standing in front of the fireplace. "This is it." He took a handful of floo powder, stepped forward and announced his destination. "666 Enchanted Avenue, Fireplace 9!". Let's get this over with as fast as possible, thought Sirius as they vanished from Grimmauld place and felt the unpleasant sensation of travel. In no time, they found themselves in another fireplace. Harry stepped out of it quickly and looked around.

It was a small, shabby room that appeared to be decorated with various artifacts and relics that looked like they were from different parts of the world. At a first glance, they appeared expensive, but when Harry squinted his eyes in the semi-darkness, he saw that they looked quite cheap. There were exquisite looking paintings that were colored with horrible dull paints; there were swords, staffs, and statues that were being held together with some form of glue that was painted to blend in with the work; there was even a curtain that looked like it was made from a fine material, but had many holes in it and was threading at the end.

Sirius shook his head in disghust. He was starting to regret his decision to come. If this doesn't prove to you the kind of man he is Harry I don't know what will. I don't know if we should be here after all. Harry supposed part of Christoff's job was to sell such cheap imitations; but surely anyone could see how worthless they were. With that in mind, Harry thought about his own purchase; but he quickly dismissed the idea. How could Christoff have cheated him? It worked. Sirius was back--but he wasn't himself. He wasn't the man he was suppose to be, which was the reason he was here in the first place. But, what if there's nothing more that can be done? He had thought of the possibility of Christoff not having a solution for the curse around them. He looked down at his godfather. What if this was the best he could ask for, his godfather returned to him from death as a baby? Afterall, there wasn't suppose to be a way to bring back the living in the first place, but now there was. And whether or not it was pure luck that it happened, Christoff still warned him to be careful. Was it possible he did know what would happen?

He looked around, but there was no one in sight. "Where is he?" Sirius glanced around the room as well. Sirius actually perked up. He's not home; I guess we'll have to come back, some day. "There's some candles." Harry headed over to a desk and prepared to light the candles with his wand when they lit up automatically. Soon a few more candles that were hidden in the darkness of the room lit up as well. "Why if it isn't Mr.Potter. It's so good to have you in my, home." Harry turned to find Archavius Christoff smiling at him.

Mr. Weasley rubbed his temples and tried desperately to calm his nerves. So far, the attending witch at the front desk could do very little to help him. He was standing in front of her now, waiting to fill out the proper papers so he and his wife could leave St.Mungo's.

"If you'll just give me a second Mr.Weasley. I'm so sorry, but I know I laid those papers somewhere..." It disturbed him to know how very unorganized the witch was, but he supposed she was either new or overly sympathetic to his loss. She shuffled through a few rolls of parchment and files before looking up at him with very sad eyes and apologizing. Mr. Weasley would rather have liked her to be rude. "I'm terribly sorry." Mr.Weasley nodded and tried to force back an oncoming headache. "That's alright dear." He turned away from her and gazed at Mrs. Weasley.

She was sitting in the chair behind him in something of a trance. She was sitting as still as could be, starring straight in front of her. His sons, Fred, George, Charlie and Bill settled close to her and tried to comfort their mother as much as they could, but nothing seemed to be working. After two days in St.Mungo's, Mr.Weasley had hoped his wife would snap out of it. Of course, she did not and he could only assume she would need more time because she had never lost a child. They weren't ignorant of the possibility of stillbirths, and they had heard stories of mothers who had experienced the tragedy. But like many expectant husbands and wives, they had never, for one second, believed it could ever happen to them. Now it had. They weren't sure how to deal with it--especially Mrs.Weasley--but he could see that she was slowly coming around. Thank Merlin for Dumbledore, the thought had been dancing in his head every since he had arrived to see them.

He was very consoling and offered words that not only brought them to tears, but eased their despair. Mr.Weasley marveled at the way he handled the situation. There was no one who could compare to the headmaster.

"Ah, here we go...sorry for the wait."

The young witch handed him the a slip of green parchment to fill out. "Thank you." He took a quill and focused on what he needed to write, but he could feel the witch's eyes watching him. He looked up and she quickly turned away.

"It's alright mum, we'll stay here with you," said Fred in a gentle voice.

Mrs.Weasley bowed her head down and held back a sob; the only thing that gave away her grief was her trembling lip.

"That's right mum," said George. "We won't leave you."

"Don't be silly boys," said Mrs.Weasley in a barely audible whisper. "I'll be fine." She wanted to say more, but her voice fell away. Charlie kneeled down in front of her. "Nonesense. We'll stay with you." But Mrs.Weasley was shaking her head. "No,...I've already told you I'll be fine." She stopped and looked around at her boys with a brave face. "You needn't worry about me. Once I go home,..." She paused and fell back into her trance. She had reminded herself of where she would be going--back to Grimmauld Place. She hated to admit it, but she felt nothing but anger at the idea of the place. At some earlier point in her life when all accusations were directed at Sirius, she would have said the whole idea was silly. If anyone had told her that she would one day side with their thoughts on the so called 'Sirius curse', she would have said they were mad. But now, that wasn't so. At least she didn't think it was so. She kept telling herself, trying to force herself not to place blame on anything or anyone, but it wasn't possible now. It wasn't so easy. She knew it was because of what was happening, now; her grief wasn't going to allow rational thought. She shook her head. She had no time for that. She had spent enough time hiding out in St.Mungo's, afraid to leave because she would be leaving without a child, afraid to leave because she would be smothered with "I'm so sorrys", afraid to leave because she would be returning to that house. Of course, she didn't have to go back there. She had her own house, the Burrow, and that's where she wanted to be; alone, with her husband, away from sad eyes. And if there really was a curse...

She snapped out of her trance and looked at Charlie, then she looked at Bill, Fred and George. They could have had a baby sister..Now wasn't the time for blame. She wasn't really sure if she blamed anyone in the first place. And what sort of example would she be setting if she gave into the idea of the curse--but she couldn't rule the idea out completely. "Boys, I promise you," and this time her voice had strenghtened, "I'll be alright, now I want you to go. I want to spend a little quiet time with my husband." The boys looked at each other and were about to reply when their father interrupted.

"Molly,...uh Molly I need." He was fidgeting and Mrs.Weasley noticed how nervous he suddenly looked; like the day he had asked her out on their first date. "The baby Molly, what's the baby's name." Now she understood. What kind of parents would they be if they didn't name their child. To whom would the flowers go?

She stifled a sob, and took a deep breath. She had been thinking about this ever since Dumbledore arrived. "I wanted to call her Rosie".

"Rosie," said Mr.Weasley.

"But her full name would have been Rose Weasley."

As hard as he tried, Ron Weasley couldn't concentrate on the test paper before him. He and Hermione were in their Transfiguration class taking a test over the last three lessons Professor McGonagall had taught them. She had believed it would be a good excersice for her students in order to prepare them for the upcoming final exams, but so far, Ron didn't think so. In the past, he had had Hermione there to try and help him in understanding all the spells and enchantments he needed in order to pass. He had always done as well as he could, even if Hermione wouldn't let him cheat off of her paper. She was still there. In fact, she was sitting next to him now and every once in a while she'd glance up at him, worried.

Ron was biting the feathers off of his quill and scratching his head furiously. He was even starting to sweat. Hermione had never seen him like this--so paniky. To anyone else, it might look like he was frustrated with the test, but Hermione knew better. She knew he was still concerned about his mother. And as much as Hermione valued school work, she truly believed Dumbledore should have given him more time off; like a week. Ron was scratching his head more violently than before and if he wasn't careful Hermione was sure he'd end up pulling all the hair out of his head.

"Ron," she hissed. He didn't look up. "Ron."

"Shhhh!"

She turned her head at an annoyed Slytherin girl. Hermione glared and turned back to Ron. "Ron please." Now he looked over, and seemed agitated. Hermione couldn't say anything more. Just the look in his eyes was enough to quiet her. She tried to speak.

"No talking." Hermione spun around. Professor McGonagall had caught her and was coming her way. "Need I remind you that this is a test Ms. Granger."

"I'm sorry professor, but you see.."

"No excuses." She stopped and saw that many of the other students had stopping working on their tests and were curious about what was going on. "What do you think you're doing? Get back to your test, now!" They instantly turned away. She looked back at Hermione and then crossed over to Ron who seemed momentarily frozen in a daze. He hadn't been himself all day and she understood why. Her eyes softened then. If no one else could be there for him and his family, she was glad Hermione could. Not wanting to appear harsh, she merely nodded, then she placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron mustered up the courage to look up at her. Professor McGonagall couldn't express her words to him at that moment, but the message made it across. Hermione looked between the two.

"There's no need to put so much pressure on yourself Mr.Weasley, it's only a test. You'll get through this." Ron stared at her for a moment, before nodding. She then turned to Hermione. Hermione smiled, thanking her and watched her return to her desk. Hermione then turned to Ron, but he didn't look her way. She forced herself to focus on her test again. Okay,...the best way to transfigure a group of mice is...

"Thanks Hermione."

She spun around. Ron was thanking her, but he wasn't looking up. "Y-you're welcome."

Harry stood there, staring at the man that was the cause of all this. Christoff continued to smile, then he clapped his hands together and moved forward. "Harry, Harry Harry, I'm so glad to see you. I had hoped you find some time to drop by and see me." But Harry made a step back and pointed his wand on him. Christoff stopped in his tracks and looked worried.

"Harry?"

Harry said nothing; he continued to protect himself with his wand and held his godfather close.

"What's the matter? Don't you remember me? I'm the one who helped you."

"Help. You call this help?" He shot a glance at Sirius. Harry felt an anger, similar to the one he felt when he recieved no help from Snape, build up inside him. "You've done nothing but cheated me--"

"Cheated you?"

"Out of my godfather."

Christoff was now utterly confused by Harry's behavior and saw that his wand-hand was shaking slightly. Regardless of Harry's trust issues, Christoff attempted to settle the matter. "Why don't you have a seat. Just there Harry in front of my desk. I'll give you some tea to relax you if you want it."

"No thanks."

"Well my boy, how do you expect us to, chat about whatever's bothering you if you don't sit down." Harry considered this. "I can see you're upset." Harry looked at him incredously, as did Sirius. This guy's brilliant. No wonder he did so well with me. He made his way behind a large royal looking desk that was painted with the cheapest looking gold color. Christoff gave him a warm smile and motioned for him to sit in the hard wooden chair behind Harry. "Would you like something to drink?" Harry knew better. "No thank you." Christoff laughed. "If I hadn't met you earlier, I'd say you were a very rude boy. Don't you know it's impolite to point your wand at someone who's trying to be friendly?"

"Well you can't be too careful." Harry slipped his wand just inside his pocket so he could reach it quickly if he needed it.

"Isn't that the truth. Well, let's get down to business. I see you were in a hurry to see me; you brought your baby brother along."

Harry found this surprising. Most of the wizarding world knew who he was and who his parents were; they would know he didn't have any brothers or sisters, but Christoff didn't seem to know anything about him at all. Of course, he thought, he could be playing it off. Sirius balled his fists and fumed. Baby brother! He started to kick and struggled to get at Christoff. I'm his godfather you parasite!

"Oh my, rather fussy isn't he?" Christoff then directed his attention to Sirius. "I think somebody needs a dity change don't you." Sirius kicked worse than ever and it was all Harry could do to hold him.

"He's...not my baby brother,...he's my godfather."

"Your god-father?"

Christoff pulled away and took them both in as though seeing them for the first time. "But...but..how..." He was literally astonished and appeared to have no answer as to how a baby could be someone's godfather. Harry did not help him. He simply waited for him to put two and two together. Then it seemed to dawn on him. "Of course," he whispered fearfully, "Of course...I remember them saying--"

"Who saying?"

"It doesn't matter." Christoff leaned forward and stared at sirius as though trying to see the man he was. Sirius stuck his tongue out at him and Christoff pulled away. "Remarkable...simply remarkable."

"Is that all you have to say!" Harry spat. He continued to stare at Sirius. "Because I don't think it's so remarkable. It's not what I wanted."

"Not satisfied? I can't do much about it Harry. No refunds."

Harry pounded a fist on the desk. "I don't care about refunds. I just want my godfather, back to the way he was." Christoff was still staring at Sirius and it was begining to disturb Harry. "And if you haven't got a clue on what to do I suggest you stop looking and acting like you do."

Christoff leaned back in his chair. Then he looked down at his hands and sat quietly in thought. "Well?" Harry said impatiently.

"This is the loved one you were mourning over. The one you were sad about, the day I met you." He shook his head slowly which sent a chill up Harry's spine. He looked as though he were suffering from the news. "You must have...really loved him. Wish I had someone like that. Dead or alive." Now he appeared to be talking to himself. Harry gritted his teeth.

"Right now, I don't care what you want." Christoff looked up, insulted. "I only care about my godfather."

"But you have him, in your arms."

"Well he's not suppose to be in my arms is he! He's suppose to be a man!...Why didn't it work!?"

"Harry, I don't recall promising that it would." He leaned forward again and all the pleasantness he had before vanished. "But it would have been better it it hadn't." He stood up and started to pace the room, all while looking around at his crooked collection. He touched a rusty old lamp and straightened a dusty Persian looking rug. "I try not to promise anything. Promises, usually lead to trouble, at least for me." He glanced at a large painting hanging behind his desk. It was of a poor looking wizard with a long white beard dressed in rich looking robes. "I don't know who that is, but someone's been asking for a painting of Albus Dumbledore. I suppose I could pass it off as him, considering the customer has never seen him before. Uh, what do you think Harry?"

Now the anger was turning to rage. "What do I think? I think you should be giving me some answers. I didn't could here to discuss your load of work!" Harry was standing now, balling a fist and shaking. Christoff casts his head down and smiled. "Right, of course you do. We all deserve answers. Tell me Harry, has Dumbledore given you any answers?"

"What?"

"About your scar, about your parents. I was rather light on mentioning the truth about you when we met. We were, afterall, in the middle of a sale."
"What are you--"

"I didn't care who you were..as long as I made a sale."

"I DON'T CARE--"

"SHHH! You have to be quiet!" Christoff cried as he rushed toward him. "Don't you know where you are? You're in my headquarters. Belzeba's just around the corner. If she knew you were here..."

"Who's Belzeba?"

"She's my boss."

Christoff sat in velvet armchair and laced his hands together. "She inquired about my sale to you, but of course, I told her nothing. She'd be scared if she knew, scared if she found out it worked."

"Wha-"

"Your ability to bring someone back. Ha ha ha, that's supposed to be impossible, but it's not..you did it and I should have known, you are the great Harry Potter aren't you. You defeated You-Know-Who so of course you could do it. But, I had imagined you had your limits, but you did not... you did it."

He was silent for a moment, and Harry considered asking him once more. "I'm sorry Harry. No one else has ever gotten as far as you when it came to that product. I've only known two wizards: one was so distraught on losing his love and got halfway through the ritual on bringing her back, but chickened out; the other, well, let's just say he changed his mind."

"Why?"

"Bad luck, I suppose. A lot of weird things happened."

"A lot of weird things are happening to me, now. Ever since I brought Sirius, back from the dead, bad things have been happening, to me and everyone around me."

Christoff nodded and at last he was concerning himself with Harry's problems. "Explain it to me then. How did you go about retrieving your godfather?"

"I went to the Department of Mysteries and I made my way to the place were he was killed, this room with a veiled archway."

"Go on."

"Well, I followed the instructions and--"

"Were there any signs?"

"What?"

"Signs? Strange warnings or feelings you may have had before you went all the way down there?"

"I er..." Harry stopped himself. He did recall some feeling of hesitation-- an ominous feeling, like the one he had gotten when he departed from Sirius, several days before he was killed. There was even his aunt. She had given him a strange look and warned him about being careful. But he had pushed them all aside. He wasn't about to let anything or anyone stop him. Harry felt a small glimmer of embarrassment when he looked up at Christoff. Sirius was now watching Harry. Well? "I...well. I had to bring him back. I had to save him."

"But were there any signs?"

"How would I know?"

"Because!" He was on his feet again. "Because, my boy, when someone recieves signs or warnings they should usually listen to them, because they're right." Harry swallowed and felt a constricted feeling in his throat. "So, you followed the instruction to the map, did everything the book asked of you...You shouldn't have done it. I still say you shouldn't have gone through with it."

"But it didn't work like it said it would. I got my godfather back alright, but not the way he was." Christoff, who was holding a flash of anger in his eyes, softened. "What is your godfather's name?"

"S-sirius."

"Sirius?"

"Sirius Black."

At this, Christoff stepped back in fright. "Sirius Black? You mean the murderer? Why ever would you want to bring him for?" Sirius frowned and glared at the man. I'll be a murderer, I promise you, if you don't help us!

"Because he's my godfather. And he's not a murderer."

Christoff stared at him, unbelieving, but didn't question why Harry felt that way. "Very well..well, I'm sorry. Sometimes things just don't work out the way you want them to. Actually, these type of things, death, isn't suppose to. It's a natural part of life and as sad it may be, it must be. What returned your godfather did the best they could. In my opinion it isn't so much that he's, brought back to life; it's more that he's been reborn."

"Reborn?"
"Yes, that is esentially what you are asking of the spell when you performed it. There is no such thing as bringing the dead back to life, but no one said anything about rebirth. Sirius gets to live again, born from the underworld, or whatever hell he came from and start all over again."

"But, he isn't fully gone. He recognizes me. He doesn't have the mind of a child."

"I'm sure he doesn't, but even I don't know if that will last. Tell me my boy, do you honestly expect to care for him the rest of your life? He may lose that memory of you as you grow older." Harry looked away.

"That's what Lupin said."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing." He looked at Sirius and they both exchanged fearful looks. "So, there isn't anything I can do?, you can do?"

"I'm sorry, but no. Any other possible solution just might make it worse and the fact that no solution is written in the book should tell you that much."

That was it. His last hope. His last chance to restore the baby in his arms to the real godfather he knew and cared about. He could barely look at him now, but when he did he couldn't look away. Their eyes were locked in despair. What were they going to do? There was nothing and no one that could help them. The only thing left to do was to return to Grimmauld place and consider the future. But Harry didn't know what that could be now. Can I really take care of Sirius for the rest of my life? Then Harry thought about Christoff's boss. It was shot.

"As far as the odd things happening, it's from the spirit world I believe."

"What?"

"It would be breaking the rules to bring someone back from the dead. It would be just as bad for someone to be reborn. It's not fair to the spirits that can't return. Now as dark as it may seem there is only one way to right this. Only one way to please the spirits and lift your curse."

Harry was afraid to ask. Christoff took ahold of his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. "He'd have to die."

Harry pulled away. "What!"

"You'd have to kill him.Well, you don't, but-"

"I'm not going to kill him! NOBODY IS!"

"He needs to move on, it's the only way."

"It can't be the only way, because if it was, there wouldn't be a book!"

"My dear boy there is a book for a lot of things, but that doesn't mean people should look into them and actually do it. Right now, I'll bet there is a book on how to use a muggle gun. If some fool muggle reads it, he might decide to do it, use a gun, but that doesn't mean he should have. I'm sorry Harry, I hoped it would help, really help, but it's only made things worse for you." Harry turned his back on him. He had no more of a reason to stay here and listen to Christoff.

"Then I reckon,..all the bad things that have happened, will keep happening, as Sirius grows up."

"Maybe. But, who have you been living with?"

Harry turned. "You mentioned weird things happening to those around you. You live with others who've experienced tragedy?" Harry was reminded of Mrs.Weasley--her newborn daughter dead. "I take it that's a yes. Well, if you don't wish for them to suffer, the only thing I can help you with is relocation."

"Reloc...you mean move?"

"To a new home. You don't want to make trouble for them, so I suggest you get your things, come back here and I'll find a place for you out of their way." Harry considered this. "You seem like a kind caring person who doesn't want to hurt others. I am right about that aren't I? This will be the only way, then you can figure out what you want to do after that. I'll always try to help you, if I'm not too busy." Christoff left Harry to think quietly. Every now and then he'd glance at Sirius. Harry didn't turn as he heard Christoff moving around behind him in the room. Then he heard him sigh. "When I heard from you again, I had hoped our conversation wouldn't be so...serious. I had hoped to discuss pleasant things; my business is afterall so dark and I'd hoped you be a sort of relief...but like the saying goes, you can't have everything. You don't and neither do I."

He opened the front door quietly and entered the gloomy residence with his wife following behind. "Go ahead dear," said Mr.Weasley and he moved aside to give her room. "Don't worry about the luggage, I'll get that." Mrs.Weasley held her hands nervously and stood just outside the door looking in suspiciously as though expecting to walk into a trap. She was pale and appeared anxious as she stepped over the threshold slowly. "There you are," Mr.Weasley congratulated. He turned to the luggage and levitated them inside with his wand. Once he had closed and locked the door, he turned to his wife. "Are you alright? Because if you're not--"

"No no I'm fine. We've been away far to long to go to the Burrow. I can't imagine what Harry must be thinking."

"Yes," said Mr.Weasley sadly. "Especially when no one else has been by to check up on him. That was wrong; we treated him poorly."

"Yes," said Mrs.Weasley as she looked around for any sign of the boy and his baby godfather. "And I hope he will forgive us. Forgive me." Mr.Weasley walked over to her, held her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "You've done nothing wrong Molly. We just overreacted. We were upset, Harry will understand that; afterall he's not the kind of person to hold a grudge."

"I suppose you're right."

"Sure I am. If anything, it will be Harry who'll feel the way you do and it will be up to us to convince him that it wasn't his fault."

"Yes," said Mrs.Weasley and she started to make her way up the stairs. "We'll invite him to the funeral. That should help him see that we don't blame him. Harry! Harry we're home!" Mr.Weasley made his way upstairs with their hospital luggage floating behind him. He walked past Mrs.Weasley who had stopped in front of Harry's room. She kept wringling her hands and hesitating to knock. "Harry? Are you there?" There was no answer. "Alright, I'm coming in." She turned the knob and pushed open the door. She stuck her head inside, but saw no one. In fact she almost saw nothing. The room looked eerily empty and Harry's trunk was gone. He couldn't have left could he? she wondered to herself.

"Well? What's happened? Is he asleep?" asked Mr.Weasley.

"He's not in there."

"Hmm. He might be downstairs in the kitchen. Let's check."

Mrs.Weasley wasn't so sure of this and started to hurry herself back down. "Harry! Harry! Can you hear me?"

She was the first to reach the kitchen and shout out his name, but there was no one there. "Oh Arthur he isn't here! He's runaway." Mr.Weasley grabbed ahold of her in an attempt to comfort her. "Now dear we don't know that yet. He might have taken Sirius for a stroll. I check the livingroom and if he's not there, I'll look in the other rooms." He walked away, leaving Mrs.Weasley to become even more frightened. "Oh Harry...don't tell me you've run." She started to pace and made her way over to the kitchen table. "I just couldn't forgive myself if you've..."

She stopped as she had just noticed a piece of parchment on the table. She read quietly and became paler with each line she read. She gasped and her eyes widened in shock. "He's not in the livingroom. I suppose I'll check the attic."

"He won't be there Arthur. He's runaway."

"Now Molly, I've already told you--"
"See for yourself." She handed him the letter and watched as his eyes grew in alarm. He looked up with the same feeling of fear Mrs.Weasley had. "Molly."

"Get Dumbledore."

Harry stepped out of the fireplace dragging his trunk and coughed from the dust of the ash. Sirius, still positioned in his arms coughed along with him. Never again Harry, please never again. Harry wiped the dirt from his eyes and looked around. He had exited a golden fireplace and entered a hallway full of more of them. "Where are we? Where did Christoff send us?" Don't ask me. I knew we shouldn't have trusted him. We should go back home.

"Mr.Potter I presume?"

Harry wheeled around and saw a plump, snobby looking wizard who apparently appeared out of nowhere. Harry wasn't sure if he should admit who he was. It could be a trap. "Err."

"Who sent you? Christoff?"

"Well."

"No need to be frightened. Christoff sent you here to be relocated am I correct?"

"Well."

He pulled out a card and glanced at it before continuing. "Christoff's picked out a lovely home for you and your...baby. All you need to do is go to this address. There's a map on the other side that will help you if you get lost. We will be contacting you once you reach your new home with instructions to follow. Now, off you go." Harry took the card and looked at the address; 626 Peechtree Road. "Hang on, what is this place." The wizard looked back at Harry with annoyance. "It is a station for relocation, now off with you. Ah yes, Mr.Armstrong what can I do for you." He had turned to a very tall wizard who appeared unsatisfied about about something. Harry didn't hang around to find out what it was. Instead he walked out the only door in the room and down a couple of steps into an unfamiliar neighborhood.

He had the feeling he was no longer in London. The area he was in was made up of small residence in what looked like an old fashion town. It had a welcoming feel to it, which Harry had so desperately needed. He looked back at the station he had just left and saw that it had the appearance of an old post office. "Excuse me dear." Harry moved aside as an old lady made her way through the white picket fence and up the steps. Harry wanted to call out to her to stop, because he knew right away that she was a muggle. Surely the wizards who ran this place knew how to hide their station well enough for muggles not to notice? But for some reason, they allowed her inside. He supposed she had entered through some other door that really was the post office. Harry turned away and looked at the map on his card. Oddly enough it reminded him of the Marauder's map, because it showed his footprints of where he was, attatched to a dotted line that would lead him home. "Well, I suppose we better get going." Sirius pouted. Do we have to? Harry turned, carrying Sirius in one hand and pulling his trunk with the other. As he walked down the street he realized that all the people he saw passing along were muggles. At first, he thought he might be somewhere outside of London, but he had the sinking feeling he was far away from there. Where am I? He wasn't too worried though. The area he had been relocated to was very cozy and likeable. He guessed the only thing that worried him was being on his own; but he couldn't afford to go back and endanger his friends anymore. "You understand why we have to do this. We have no choice." Sirius pulled on his godson's shirt. We do have a choice. We don't have to do this...but.. Sirius couldn't help feeling that Harry did have a point. But it was only a small feeling.

Harry had been walking for at least twenty minutes heading out of the town area and into a private countryside. Christoff might have believed Harry would be more comfortable away from everyone else or he was too dangerous even for the muggles. Either way, I'm glad of it. As he turned a corner, he came upon a dreadful sight.

He had come across a cementery without realizing it and was looking down the field at a group of muggles gathered together to pay their respects to a departed loved one. He was a man who, as far as Harry could see, looked to be in his 40's. Some were conversing with one another, others sat in silence. There was a small family of people positioned close to the open casket. The people that stood out the most was a sobbing woman and two small children who were crying along with her. Harry could only assume that the man in the coffin was her husband or a grandfather to her children.

He watched them silently, not sure why he found the scene so chilling. He had never attended a funeral before, and couldn't understand why he found it so scary. It was just a funeral. There was nothing out of the ordinary--at least, that's what Harry had believed.

Out of nowhere, Harry felt a rush of cold on his left side and spun around. There standing right beside him was the transparent figure of the man in the casket. It couldn't be! Harry backed away. Sirius followed his gaze and his eyes widened along with Harry. Impossible! But it was true. It was the dead man's ghost. It didn't make any sense at all. Only wizards could make imprints of themselves and return as ghosts. Muggles couldn't do it and these people were clearly muggles. There was no sign of wands and none of the people below wore robes. They were definately muggles and this man was definately a ghost. Upon looking at his face, the man appeared quite miserably. "No need to cry for me," he said in a monotone and for an instant, Harry could have sworn he looked over at him, but he couldn't be sure. Then the ghost began a slow decent down the field toward the coffin. Harry was too stunned to do anything else but stare. He could only stand there and watch the ghost continue miserably.

After five minutes of horror, Harry had found his feet and was hurrying away. He stopped and sat Sirius down on the trunk while he caught his breath. "Did you,...see that...Sirius."

Sirius was shaking and moling the information over in his head. See it! I damn near felt it!...Harry turned away from him. How can this be..., thought Sirius, a muggle...ghost? Suddenly, Harry felt very frightened; he had the feeling that something bad was about to happen or that someone was watching his every move. "Come on Sirius. We don't have far to go now. We got to keep moving. Try to forget what we saw." He picked his godfather up, glanced at the map and started pulling his trunk. Easier said Harry.

At long last, they had reached the address. Harry was standing in front of a small white fence and looking up into a peaceful clearing where a small cozy looking white house stood. Harry looked down the road and saw another little house a couple of blocks away. "This must be where Christoff relocates wizards." Harry was glad to have some space from his neighbors. He wouldn't have to worry too much about being spotted. The map on the card pointed out some of the other houses nearby, including a small market store. All in all, he had been isolated from everyone. He sighed and tried to stay hopeful. "Shall we?"

He walked through the fence and made his way up the stone covered path. During the trip, Sirius couldn't help feeling dread and sadness. How he wished he didn't agree to meet Christoff. How he wished Harry hadn't agreed to move. For the first time in his life, Sirius wished he wasn't with his godson. But he was and he had no way of letting anyone know where they were. He had a sinking feeling that Harry wouldn't be able to contact them whether he wanted to or not. It was the same vise versa.

Finally they reached the door. There was a key hanging on a string over the knob. He took it, amazed that no one else had stolen it, and unlocked the door. He pushed it open very slowly. Sirius held his breath.

"Home sweet home."

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Finally. School started again for me so of course it would take a little longer to update a chapter, but we've only got a few more to go. So please, please keep reading and letting me know your thoughts! Originally the next chapter was going to stand on it's own, but there was so little to write for it, I started combining them. There was going to be more in here, but it became long enough. So, there was no point for Harry to argue on behalf of Sirius and understandably decides to runaway. You were right of course. It's like he's gone under witness protection considering where he lives now, but we don't know where that is. All we know is it's a friendly little village surrounded by muggles.

I did a little rereading and remembered Harry used to cook for the Dursley's but I didn't want him to be able to here; so let's just say he wasn't a very good cook. Oh no! there's not supposed to be muggle ghost! What could be the reason for that? Well, think back on what Christoff said about the spirits finding Sirius's return as unfair. It only becomes more mysterious in the next chapter. We will find out whether or not the Order can find them, how Harry and Sirius are coping in their new home, and a sudden rise of darkness as we narrow down this dark tale.