"What is he mumbling?" Sirius wondered, leaning in closer to the twitching elf.

"Don't touch him."

Sirius flipped his head over his shoulder and goggled at Remus incredulously. "Why the bloody hell would I touch him?"

"Do you think he's dreaming?" Remus passed over Sirius' demanding inquiry with ease.

Curling his fingers around the edge of the table, Sirius narrowed his brows objectively as he turned his attention back to Kreacher. "You can tell he's conked out, but I don't think the spell keeps him from dreaming…" He flicked his eyes back to the right. "Does it?"

"I don't think so." Remus licked his lips and fell silent for a moment, listening.

The remaining candle had melted into a stump; Kreacher's moldy, threadbare rag now drooped off of his scrawny shoulder and lay close to the descending flame.

Silently, Sirius reached around the twisted feet and nudged open the cigar box. He lit and assembled a new candle in the empty holder while Remus hunched down a bit and turned his ear toward Kreacher's withered lips.

"Whose name is he saying?" Remus muttered to himself, eyes drifting in contemplation.

Sirius flipped the cardboard lid closed with a knuckle. "Name?"

"Does he have siblings?"

Straightening slowly, Sirius stared. "Plan on contacting his mum and dad as well? What sort of question is that, Remus?"

Remus gave a sideways nod toward the elf's chest. "Listen," he countered patiently.

Clutching at the table again, Sirius balanced his weight on his arm and complied.

Kreacher's whispering was muddled and thin, hiss-like.

"He's always been nutters," Sirius informed quietly, though his face was drawn with uncertainty. "I don't think he's saying anything—"

Remus barely shook his head. "…sounds like 'sister'."

"Sister?" Sirius pulled back slightly, flashing Remus a strange look. "That doesn't make sense, Moony."

"Sounds like he's hissing…"

Sirius shifted, shaking his own head now. "I think he's just delusional…he's always been off."

Suddenly, Remus' eyes darted past Sirius' torso. He stood, still gazing over his friend's shoulder into the smoggy atmosphere of the visible fraction of the Entrance Hall.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked.

Remus gestured with his brisk incline of his chin. "Harry's gone out of sight."

Whipping around, Sirius stiffened, drawing himself up when he noticed the vacant staircase. "Damn," he whispered through gritted teeth. Sirius strode forward, Kreacher forgotten.

"Has it even been ten minutes?" Remus questioned; he nipped closely behind.

Sirius exhaled strongly as the neared the end of the corridor. "No."


The shadow shifted, and Harry's trainers suddenly felt as if they'd fused to the carpet. His insides tumbled down to his shins and remained, like heavy hunks of clay.

Yes, that was definitely a human—not a dog with its paw against the window like Harry'd foolishly hoped.

Harry was only three paces away from the bottom step, but he dared not move in case the stranger decided to barge through the front door and tackle him. Or wrap his hands around Harry's throat and choke him until he kicked it.

Was the door even locked?

The dark shape moved again, shrank against the window.

Harry's chest shriveled and a tingling jolt of instinct spun him around on the spot. But before he could take two steps forward, Sirius whizzed around the corner. Harry flinched, gasping sharply as his godfather caught him by the shoulders just before they collided into each other.

"Sirius—" Harry panted. He twisted against the grip around his biceps, trying to turn around.

"Hey," Sirius snapped, giving his godson a firm jostle. "What did I just get through saying five minutes ago?"

"I know but…the window, Sirius!"

"Yes, I see." Sirius squatted down a bit. "It looks about as filthy as the one in your bedroom…"

Recognizing Sirius' preliminary scolding stance, Harry attempted to wriggle free again. "No," he huffed, "You're not listening!"

Sirius loosened his hold.

"What's the problem, Harry?" Remus spoke up from behind Sirius' shoulder.

Slipping an arm free, Harry swiveled around. "There!" He pointed toward the window but immediately deflated, his arm slowly sinking back to his side.

The shadow was gone.

"What is it?" Sirius asked after a moment of staring down the smudges.

Harry searched all four corners of the tall pane carefully. "But just a second ago, I saw…" He tapered off.

"Saw what?" Remus prompted.

Combing his fingers through his fringe, Harry glanced over at him. "A person—someone looking in the window—"

"Harry…" Sirius tightened his fingers around Harry's arm, causing the boy to spin back around.

"I swear I'm not lying!" Harry exclaimed in frustration. He was bordering on explosion but held his temper steady. "I'm not, Sirius. I saw someone just—"

"I never said you were lying," his godfather claimed, a bit taken aback by the allegation.

"You've got that look on your face!"

Sirius cocked his head in consternation, frowning. "I've got nothing of the sort—"

"Did you see his face, Harry?" Remus touched the boy's shoulder. "Or her face, I suppose."

Harry shook his head jerkily. "The window's too dirty." He felt Sirius' fingers clamped loosely around his cheeks, tugging him to attention.

"What did I say you were supposed to do if you needed me—or us?" Sirius probed. Harry could sense his godfather's displeasure swelling like flood water. But he pulled a broody face anyway.

"I hate when you ask me questions like that…"

"Like what?"

Harry's eyebrows pinched together in earnest. "That's the second time you've done it."

A sigh snagged in Remus' throat. Enough was enough. "Harry Potter!"

Harry jumped, his eyes round and startled. "What?" The cowardice had sneaked up and stifled him when he had least expected it.

Remus' own eyes were a sandstorm. He shook his head. "That's quite enough," he asserted quietly.

Looking away on cue, Harry gazed down the corridor at the inert elf to avoid eye-contact with either of them. Why was he having such rotten luck today? His first and his last name this time…

After a tense stretch of time, Sirius cleared his throat. "You're—you're certain someone was actually looking in the window?" His expression was strained as he attempted to regain composure after the overshadowing of his friend's natural, automatic authority.

And for some reason, Harry caught on to it immediately. Maybe he was getting better at reading his godfather, maybe not. All Harry was knew was that his cheeks were burning from the inside out, successfully accomplishing what Remus' reprimand couldn't. He dropped his gaze to the tiny plastic buttons at the bottom of his godfather's shirt.

Harry nodded. "I'm pretty sure it was. I think… I mean, I didn't see his face, though," he reiterated.

"You should've shouted for me, anyway…"

Harry glanced up tentatively. "I know," he admitted. "But I wanted to make sure it wasn't just a tree or something."

"Whatever it was, you're lucky we're locked in here," Remus commented in his standard, placid tone.

Harry's stomach untwisted a little. "I wondered if we were." He looked over at Sirius again to assess any traces of hurt feelings, but his godfather was rigid now, staring at the window in unease.

"What?" Harry asked him.

"This isn't the greatest neighborhood, you know," Remus added, wrinkling his nose. "It could've been anyone nosing about."

Harry snorted, flicking his eyes toward Remus. "Probably some sloshed perve."

Pressing his lips together, Remus swallowed a chuckle.

But Sirius shook his head dazedly, his gaze now skating over the dilapidated front door. "No…" he began."

Harry gaped at him. "No, what?"

Shaking his head again, Sirius suddenly looked over at Remus and then down toward his godson. "Muggles can't see this place."

"How come?" Harry wanted to know.

"Unplottable?" Remus followed up. Harry squinted in curiosity.

Sirius nodded warily. "Only wizards who know its location can see it—there are only a few I know of, and most of them," he swallowed, "aren't around anymore."

Harry's frown deepened. "Who are they?"

"No one to fret over, Bub."

"I'm not fretting…"

Sirius didn't respond. Laying a warm palm at the top of his godson's head, he pulled Harry a bit closer and eyed Remus from over the soft, unruly bristles.

Harry couldn't see past Sirius' chest, but he wasn't stupid enough to miss the fact that they were probably flashing each other significant eyebrow twitches from above. He made to squirm away, but stopped himself at the last minute, thinking.

Only a few people knew where Grimmauld Place lay. But which few? A prickly sensation zinged through Harry's stomach. Was Sirius talking about other Death Eaters?

Taking hold of his godfather's wrist, Harry peeled it away from his hair. He stepped back. "Hey, do you think—" Harry clicked his teeth shut, catching himself at the last second.

Sirius glanced down at him. "Do I think what?"

Nothing, stupid. Don't say anything. You weren't supposed to know.

Inhaling a slow breath, Harry lifted his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Oh. Erm…" He pocketed his sweaty fingers, giving a quick shake of his head. "Never mind. I forgot what I was gonna say."

Very smooth, Harry berated himself. Sirius would never buy it.

"I hate when that happens," Sirius said kindly, his eyes soft. "When it comes to you, make sure and tell me, all right?" He winked—a distracted gesture—before sobering and redirecting his attention back to Remus.

"Okay…"

Sirius had bought it.

"Shall I go out and see?" His godfather proposed to Remus in a soft voice.

But Remus only shook his head, his eyes darting briefly in Harry's direction. "I don't think that's necessary. Is the door protected?"

"With a password," Sirius affirmed, "if I remember correctly. But that doesn't mean—"

"I'll stay on the first floor and keep an eye out while you show Harry the rest of the house," Remus broke in. "I've got my wand."

Sirius sniffed lightly. "And a demented house-elf nearby…"

"He'll be asleep for several hours at least, and whoever was at the door seems to have gone. I'll be fine."

Harry tilted his head, gazing down the corridor into the dining room. "What was the matter with Kreacher anyway?"

"The two of you have probably had enough of this place to last a lifetime, haven't you?" Sirius commented, passing over Harry's inquiry. He sighed, his eyes traveling along the portraits.

"It's all right Padfoot," Remus said. "Take Harry on a fast tour, and then we'll leave." He locked eyes with Sirius and nodded once. A gentle, stable gesture of encouragement.

Remembering Remus' affirmation that their visit to Grimmauld Place was good for Sirius, Harry moved a bit closer to his godfather. "I don't mind being here, Sirius," he added. It wasn't a total lie.

Sirius flicked his gaze toward Harry. "Your nose disagrees with you, I think."

Wiping at his clogged nostrils with the back of his wrist, Harry shrugged, feeling more like a wimpy dolt than ever before. "I don't care."

"Use your handkerchief."

"I have been…"

The corners of Sirius' lips turned. "Well, keep doing it, then."

Remus had sauntered over to the window as they spoke, peering through the less smoggy spots. "Go on," he urged them. "I'll keep watch."

"Send word if you need me," Sirius said solemnly, "and I'll be right down."

"Me too," Harry chirped.

Glancing around, Sirius gave him a distinct look.

"What? I'll let you go first," the boy declared.

Still gazing, Remus nodded and waved them away.

Sirius raised both eyebrows before placing a hand in the middle of Harry's back and steering him gently toward the stairs. "Keep close to me, all right?"

"I will."

Pulling Harry back just a bit, Sirius lead the way, with his godson at his shoulder.


The air in the fourth floor was thick with stale heat—a vast contrast to the rotting dampness of the basement kitchen.

"The temperature was regulated by a charm when I was a boy," Sirius explained as Harry plucked his t-shirt away from his neck and blew a cool breath of air down the gap. "Haven't done this since seventh year, but here…"

One zigzag swish of Sirius' wand, and the air instantly chilled.

The tiny hairs on Harry's arms sprang to attention at the change in atmosphere. "Brilliant," the boy approved, rubbing his arms as he studied the poster of a bikini-clad woman plastered to Sirius' bedroom wall.

"What?" Sirius wondered, eyeing his godson slyly. "The temperature in here or my decorating skills?"

Harry grinned at him. "Both, I guess."

Smirking knowingly, Sirius shook his head in a playful manner.

"Did your room at my grandparents' look like this?" Harry piped up, surveying the rest of the various-sized posters of motorcycles and wizarding photographs.

"Not really," his godfather admitted. "James' posters were mostly Quidditch ones. And his bed was smaller… I slept in the trundle underneath."

"Oh."

"But we both had Gryffindor banners…"

Harry looked around some more. "At least your mum and dad didn't tear all of your stuff down after you left." His eyes rested on Sirius. "You know?"

Sirius' lips mashed together and then his teeth sank into his bottom lip as he stared at the silky banner over his bed.

Harry, in turn, stared at his godfather; he'd never seen Sirius look like that before.

"I put sticking charms on everything," Sirius informed him after a moment, his voice soft and thin. "But at least the faces on my photographs aren't scratched out—I would've expected that. I'm sure she didn't fancy coming in here…probably just locked up the room and destroyed the key…"

"Your door wasn't locked," Harry reminded him.

Sweeping his gaze along the thick, scarlet comforter draped across his old bed, Sirius swallowed so slowly Harry could hear it.

Suddenly, he glanced over at his godson. "You don't have a banner in your room at home," Sirius stated; his rims were a bit moist.

Harry thought about this. "I had some drawings at the Dursleys, but they're gone now…"

"I never thought about it," Sirius said contritely. "I didn't even ask you if you wanted everything blue in your room."

"I like blue."

"I know you do. I just never—" Sirius paused before looking intently at his godson. "Would you like one of my banners?"

"But you said they're all stuck…"

"I kept one—maybe two of them—in my wardrobe in case my mother found a way to destroy the hanging ones." Without waiting for an answer, Sirius strode over to the opposite wall and pulled open the doors; they shrieked on their rusty hinges.

Harry cringed, but Sirius ignored it and began rifling carelessly through his things.

Watching his godfather for only a short while longer, Harry cautiously stepped along the groaning floorboards until he reached the headboard of the bed. A collage of yellowed photographs had been plastered against the wall off-center. Immediately, Harry's eyes landed on the smallest snapshot—two curly-headed boys—maybe eight or nine years old—in high-necked, embroidered robes, one a bit smaller than the other.

Harry recognized the taller boy right away. Sirius was handsome then, too, but he was barely smiling in this photograph. He held his face very still; only his eyes were snapping back and forth, as if someone was barking orders at him off to the side.

The little one—Regulus—looked almost identical to Sirius, but his cheeks were dimpled. He was grinning broadly, showing all of his teeth, and trying not to wiggle underneath his brother's hand that rested on his shoulder.

Harry was so mesmerized by the picture that he jumped when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"Found your dad?" Sirius asked from behind.

Whirling around, Harry tried to shake the fuzzy feeling in his brain. "Huh?"

Sirius pointed to a spot on the wall. "Your dad," he repeated.

"My dad?" Harry followed Sirius' finger. "Oh…" he replied, finally understanding. A larger photograph of a teenage Sirius and his friends had been stuck at the top of the collage.

Harry stared. Funny he hadn't noticed it right off; he really did look like his dad. James' glasses were slightly square-shaped, and he was taller than Harry, but they had the same rounded chin—no angles.

Who would have thought? A chin.

Sirius pointed a bit higher. "See? Your hair sticks up at the same place."

"His hair's flat in the pictures that Hagrid gave me…"

"He grew out of it," Sirius said with a half-smile. "So will you."

Harry examined the photograph a bit longer, making a face as Pettigrew simpered back at him with jutting front teeth and beady eyes. He was nothing but ugly.

A shock of straight, thin hair hung diagonally across a skinny Remus' right eye, but the visible one was round and kind, complimenting his gentle smile. It was still difficult for Harry to imagine the boy in the picture sitting next to a young Snape only one or two years before.

And then there was his dad…and Sirius; they took turns jabbing each other in the ribs, choking back snickers behind clenched teeth. They looked happy.

"I wish we could get that off the wall," Harry mumbled, even though he knew it wasn't possible.

Sirius sighed, his breath fluttering the hair by Harry's ear. "Me too." He smoothed back Harry's fringe from behind and then repeated the gesture. "Have I shown you the pile of photos I've got in my trunk at home?"

"Yeah. Loads of times." Harry turned, pressing his shoulder blades up against the wall. "Sirius?"

His godfather's eyebrows peaked.

"Do you, erm…" Questions about Regulus tickled the tip of his tongue, but Harry bit them back.

"Yes?"

Suddenly plagued with another tickle, Harry decided to change the subject.

"Is there a lav up here?"

"You need to go?"

Harry nodded. "Bad."

"Well," Sirius began, glancing toward the open door, "there's one down the hall. It's small." He wrinkled his nose. "A bit nasty."

"I'm not gonna sit or anything…"

Soft laughter bubbled up Sirius' throat, relaxing his face considerably. "I see. Well in that case…" He started for the door. Harry followed. "I'll hold on to this for you," Sirius continued, reaching for a small, satiny red and gold banner that lay folded on the edge of the bed. He doubled it over once more.

"Where'd you find it?" Harry asked as he trailed after his godfather.

Sirius smirked. "Under a stack of tee shirts. My mum wouldn't touch those with a fifty-foot pole." Grasping the doorknob, he closed it behind the both of them.


Harry stared down in horror at the black-ringed toiled bowl. There wasn't a drop of water in it.

Glancing over at the rusty basin, Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw a spider scurry to the drain and disappear down the hole.

Good thing Ron wasn't here…

The mirror was cracked in four or five places and the reflection of the candle's flame split like light through a prism. Sirius had only lit one for him, but the tiny bathroom was fully illuminated by it.

Too bad, Harry mused. In the dark, at least he wouldn't have been able to see the toilet. Oh, well. He'd been warned.

Starting on the button of his jeans, Harry's fingers froze on his zipper when he noticed there wasn't any way to flush—no handle.

Harry whispered a swearword; he really had to go now. This was no joke. Looking around, he finally glimpsed a corroded chain hanging from a pipe that went through the ceiling. Pressing his lips together, he reached up and gave it an experimental tug.

The muffled sound of clinking metal came from somewhere behind the wall. But the toilet didn't flush.

Teetering on the edge of apathy, Harry blew out his breath through puffed cheeks and yanked down his zipper, scooting closer to his target.

But something was moving behind the bowl. Harry leaned in closer to get a look.

A thick, white rat's tail whipped along the floor.

"Ugh!" Harry exclaimed, scrambling for the door handle and shuffling out of there as quickly as possible. He slammed the door with both hands flat against the wood.

No way in hell.


Hurrying back down the corridor, Harry forgot about his fastenings.

He figured there had to be another bathroom somewhere around here, but he would ask Sirius first. No need to get chewed out again over that.

Rounding the corner, Harry stopped. Another door had been opened. Tiptoeing closer, he peeked inside.

It was a bedroom—a bit smaller than Sirius'—and the walls were slathered with green and silver banners.

Regulus' room.

Harry took two more hesitant steps forward before the edge of the bed came into view. He froze again when he saw Sirius perched on the edge, his elbows on his knees.

Oh, no, Harry thought.

The rasp of parchment sounded in Harry's ears, and he could see his godfather leisurely thumbing through a small book—something of his brother's, probably. Every strand of Sirius' hair had spilled into his face.

Oh, damn.

Gripping the abandoned button of his jeans so hard that it dug into his palm, Harry stood in the corridor, jiggling one of his legs. The last thing he wanted to do was bother Sirius at a time like this. Remus had said that his godfather was lucky to have him around, but at this very moment—inarticulate, bladder bursting—Harry knew he'd be of little comfort.

He would check the next floor down for another loo, do his business, and come right back up; he'd be worth something then.

Sirius had closed the book, marking his place with his index finger. His back heaved with a sigh as he gazed down at the floor.

Backing up slowly, Harry finally reached the stairs and crept down as quietly as he could.


Fortune was on his side today. And this time, Harry hadn't cared if the toilet flushed or not.

Widening the crack in the door he'd left open for light, Harry exited the lavatory, exhaling in relief. Now he'd definitely be able to sit with Sirius…maybe even ask him the questions that had been brewing in his head ever since he heard Remus and him talking last night. Ask them delicately, of course.

Harry began making his way toward the ascending stairs when all of a sudden a strange crack sounded from somewhere behind him, startling him out of his wits.

Spinning halfway around, Harry saw nothing but black before he felt the tightness around his upper arm and a cool hand over his mouth.

An impending scream clawed at Harry's throat, but as the familiar scent of fusty wool and faded ginger suddenly invaded his nostrils, he forced it down.

The grip around Harry's arm contracted and turned him the rest of the way around; the hand clamped over his mouth remained, the strong fingertips pressing into his cheek.

Harry widened his eyes, sucking in air through his nose as he identified his captor. He knew it.

TBC...


Hi, folks. So, any guesses? I really hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for all of the encouragement. Just so you know, I've got to start working on lesson plans and whatnot, so be patient with me. I swear I won't abandon you :)

Maddie: Thanks for reviewing my story! It's great to hear from new readers and to know that you're enjoying. Your feedback was very sweet and I appreciate it :)