Sirius kept as close an eye on Harry as he could, but from a distance, thanks to Moony. Not that he was really Moony, not any more. His Moony had never come back after taking the damned shapeshifter potion the Malfoy boy had given him. It had taken Sirius a little while to figure it out, how Moony was justdifferent, but he had.

It was all his fault. They had trusted the blonde liar.

I'm from the future, he'd said.

Trust me, I understand what you could lose, he claimed.

It was all just another ploy to get him closer to Harry. If only Sirius had had been more vigilant. If only he had been more suspicious. He had let the traitorous bastard into his home, into his family, and he had taken them all from him. James' son now fawned at the cur's feet, in love with him if the papers were to be believed. Had pulled him from the lake at Hogwarts and kissed him for the entire world to see. Not that Sirius cared if his Godson was gay; he was gay. No, he cared that his godson had fallen for an evil little liar who was just like his father. A deatheater, too, if he was reading the signs right.

They were all there, the signs that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was returning. Moony wouldn't listen, but then the Malfoy boy had turned him against Sirius. Dumbledore ignored him. Molly and Arthur had been swayed by Remus' argument that he was just sick, that he was the one who had something wrong with him.

This wasn't the Black madness! The signs were all there if they would just listen! Bertha Jorkins – who had never had a thing wrong with her memory, no matter what Ludo Bagman claimed – was missing. Barty Crouch was missing and after having done all that work to set up the Triwizard Tournament. The Dark Mark had been seen at the World Cup and his James – Harry; James was dead – was participating in a tournament he was far too young for. He was being set up for something, something evil, and Sirius knew the Malfoy boy was behind it all. He was working for You-Know-Who.

Now Sirius just had to prove it.


It turned out to be very difficult to get Harry alone without Dumbledore or Moony seeing him. Whenever Harry was on the grounds, the Malfoy boy was with him, holding hands, kissing – it made Sirius sick. He had been wary about sending an owl in case Moony had poisoned the boy against him as well. No, he would talk to Harry in person. Warn him about the Malfoy boy, about how he was working for You-Know-Who, and convince him of the truth.

Sirius finally got his chance to get Harry alone after the Easter Holiday. Ludo Bagman had called all the Triwizard Champions down to the Quidditch Pitch to show them the mage the teachers were growing. For once the cur wasn't glued to Harry's side. Sirius only had to catch Harry's attention as he returned to the castle and he would have his chance to tell his godson the truth.

Luck favored him that night as Victor Krum pulled Harry aside to apparently talk about the Granger girl. Considering Krum had seen Harry kiss the evil Malfoy boy after the second tournament the entire conversation was laughable, but apparently even a famous Quidditch player got nervous about the girl he liked.

When Harry grabbed Krum and stared into the forest, Sirius at first thought he'd been seen. Then he heard the sounds too, someone stumbling through the darkness. Harry was reaching for his wand when Barty Crouch Sr. stumbled out of the woods, looking as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Barty Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see.

"Vosn't he a judge?" said Krum, starting at Barty. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"

Harry nodded, hesitated for a moment, and then walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree. The hackles on Sirius' neck rose nonetheless; he wanted his godson away from the clearly deranged man, but it was more important he not blow his cover. Harry's lifewas at stake and Barty…Well, Barty didn't look as if he was very dangerous just at the moment.

"...and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve…"

"Mr. Crouch?" said Harry cautiously.

"…and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen...do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..."

Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees.

"Mr. Crouch?" Harry said loudly. "Are you all right?"

Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head. Harry looked around at Krum, who had followed him into the trees, and was looking down at Crouch in alarm.

"Vot is wrong with him?"

"No idea," Harry muttered. "Listen, you'd better go and get someone -"

"Dumbledore!" gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out and seized a handful of Harry's robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Harry's head. "I need...see...Dumbledore..."

"Okay," said Harry, "if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the-"

"I've done…stupid…thing…" Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad, but Sirius recognized what was wrong with him now. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort, because it did. He was fighting the Imperious Curse with all his strength.

"Must…tell…Dumbledore..."

Something else moved among the trees. Something quiet, something trying not to be noticed. Sirius crouched down, his hackles rising again as he tried to see the threat. The blackness of the forest was completed; however, he couldn't see a thing. Behind him, Harry convinced Krum to pull Barty off him so he could run and get Dumbledore.

Carefully, Sirius shifted from his animagus form and clutched his wand. No sooner had he done it, however, than a bolt of red light shot out of the trees and struck him full in the face. As he fell, he watched another zoom past and strike the Krum boy in the back. He toppled forward as footsteps announced his attacker's presence, coming closer and closer.

"Sirius Black, silly dog," said Moony's voice. But it wasn't Moony; it was the thing that had taken his place. "If only I could just get rid of you."

A foot rolled Sirius onto his back and he was forced to stare up at the face that had once belonged to his beloved. He wanted to scream and rage, anything that would alert someone of what was happening. The stunner kept him still, silent, helpless.

"Can't kill you yet. No, that would draw too much attention. Good thing you're mad as a hatter, eh?" Not-Moony laughed and Sirius wanted to cry because it was so wrong. "Just going to have to modify your memory a bit and pack you off to good old, Grimmauld Place."

The imposter knelt and waved his wand in a lazy figure eight pattern above Sirius' nose.

"Don't worry, Padfoot," Moony's voice crooned, "You won't even remember this happened. Then I can take care of dear ol'daddy."

Daddy? Sirius had time to think before the flash ofObliviation wiped reality away.