Thank you thank you thank you! One day I will find the time to respond to your reviews personally! Especially to those who are keeping me honest ;) I appreciate when people catch mistakes that I missed. I always fix them, but I don't always respond, so thank you. Maybe this time I will, maybe not, I'm doing a lot of traveling coming up. Posting this right before heading to the airport.

I'm looking forward to this one...

-Cat


Chapter 23

Depths/Heights

The First Moon

Blind panic seized him. His eyesight failed into a miasma of sultry browns and purples. The shuddering gasps were his, frantic energy made his limbs spasm. No, no, no, no, no, no-

"Hello again, Mr. Lupin."

The other man's voice was impossibly calm. The contrast with Remus' panic was light and dark. Remus could not even nod a return greeting. The man picked himself off the ground where he'd landed after his tumble down the stairs. He absently brushed dirt from his ragged clothes, a hundred times more relaxed than the last time Remus had seen him. But his eyes were deeply shadowed. He took a step closer-

"Stop. Stay back."

Remus' warning was so harsh it burned his vocal chords. Liam Carmichael paused and Remus heard him sigh out the air in his lungs. A long expression of resignation.

"He has no more use for me other than this now. He wants you broken."

For some reason, Sirius' reckless laughter was clogging his ears.

"You are much more than this."

This. This was certainly a way to break him. Remus couldn't even cry as he fought for control over his frantic breathing. Carmichael took another incautious step forward, palms up and open in a gesture of peace.

"It's going to be okay."


After

Pyrites never let him out of the cellar.

Time spiralled, tracing its cold orbit. Ellipsed out a refrain that slowly lost meaning with repetition. He was losing his meaning. He was blending into the four concrete walls, bleeding into the cracks, descending down down down… so he pretended he was in the woods. It was easier than he expected.

"He made me lie."

He could feel the dead, spongy matter give beneath his feet. The earthy humidity beneath the trees. And the musty smell of growing things surrounding him.

There was a sticky, drying substance on his knuckles, under his fingernails. It peeled from his face like delicate dark flecks of paint. It laced his broken teeth and coated his tongue like iron snowflakes.

Greyback's laughter hissed over his canines and gurgled in his throat.

"Who's the monster now, Lupin?"

The woods were what he remembered best sometimes, where they used to run until their lungs were bursting and blood racing. Forbidden and free. Sometimes he remembered nothing at all. And sometimes… he remembered too much.

"Do you know they buried you?" Pyrites asked.

No, Remus did not know. But he did not really remember to care either. Easier not to. He almost did not taste the blood anymore.

"It was a nice service. A little sparse…but why would anyone attend the funeral of a monster? Except perhaps to celebrate..."

He sometimes pretended that he was not alone. A risk. One he started to take more and more.

A stag towered above him, antlers reaching out like sheltering branches. A comfortable warmth weighed down his shoulder where a rat was curled in a ball, beaded blue eyes taking in the view. And his hand was resting on a canine head, fur equally soft and coarse.

Moons rolled on in a haze of a cellar and the Shrieking Shack and the wide, wide woods.

The moons were what jolted him from the dream. It was hard to escape the physical pain.

Crack of agony exploded in his femur as he woke. He seeped in it for weeks, unable to stand or move or think…

Pyrites didn't mend the bone. He would sometimes, if the wolf went too far. No, Pyrites only came down to talk. He never drew his wand, never lifted a finger against him. Just let the wolf do the job of hurting. Pyrites only talked.

He held out a hand, something slender and pale resting on the white fabric. A wand. The handle was like a bone. Remus shuddered when he saw it.

"A… fellow Death Eater passed it on to me. An old friend of yours." He paused, but Remus no longer reacted.

"He was the first to know of our Master's destruction. He took it from the house in Godric's Hollow. There it was, amidst the rubble… I thought perhaps it would reveal the secret of his survival. And his demise. But there was nothing… I had thought the key might be the wands, but it wasn't. Not his. Not hers..."

Pretending stopped being enough.

He started telling himself lies. Just small ones at first, things he could believe if he didn't think too hard. Just enough to chew up his serrated existence and make it easier to swallow. His throat still ached.

You belong here. You belong here. You belong here…

One by one, moons passed. Each one jolted him back to reality.

Monster.

He stopped counting.


June 23, 1986

The doors blurred into a dizzying swirl of monochrome and wood, stirring the air around the three aurors so their dark robes lifted on the eddies. Then, suddenly as it started, it all ceased. Sirius rotated, taking in the identical doors encircling them. His heart drummed in his chest.

"Now what?" Scrimgeour muttered.

"Bloody Unspeakables can't do anything without unnecessary obscurity," Mad-Eye growled. "Let's split up. Be careful and stealthy. Don't take them by yourself. Either find one of us, or send a patronus with your approximate location and any rooms adjacent to it."

Sirius and Scrimgeour nodded, then all three stepped away from their positions in the center. Sirius went for the door directly across from him. A quick, "Homenum revelio," revealed the room beyond was empty. Behind him, he heard Mad-Eye and Scrimgeour do the same. Then their doors opened and shut. Sirius entered his on light feet, cautious despite the revelio charm.

The chamber was very dark. He had the sensation of being outdoors, as if there were no walls or ceiling. Or, for that matter, a floor. Galaxies patterned the space below his feet. With slight vertigo, Sirius attempted a step forward. His foot landed on what felt like a trampoline. The ground stretched minutely beneath him, distorting the stars below, but held his weight. He proceeded cautiously, ducking as a tiny model planet zoomed past his ear. Then another and another, while more stars wheeled overhead. He felt like he was moving through molasses, hands outstretched seeking some kind of wall.

Or ceiling?

He was forgetting which way was up and which was down… down… down was his feet stretching the elastic infinity beneath. Right. Up was the stars? But the stars were everywhere-

Finally, his fingers brushed a flat plane. Relief rushed into his lungs. He followed it until the texture changed, then groped for a doorknob.

The next room was less eerie. Sirius had the impression that he had just stepped into a very overgrown forest. But instead of trees, he was surrounded by glowing strands of… stuff. It branched off in fractal patterns, some tendrils thin as spider silk, others thick as his torso. The room seemed to have a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Light pulsed down each dendritic path like a signal, in rhythm with his racing heart. Whatever it was, it was probably best not to touch. Carefully bending and winding his way through the room, he made it to the other side. At least he could see the walls. But when he tried the door, it was locked.

Swearing, he peered through the tangled, strobing material. There was the door he came through. Then he spied another door on the farther end of the room. This took longer to get to. Shouldn't he have run into an Unspeakable by now? Where were the people who were supposed to spend their days endlessly buried in these magical mysteries?

As if in answer to his question, he stumbled over something on the floor. He caught himself, nose inches from one of the throbbing strands. Carefully edging away, he released a breath and looked down. A body.

Sirius heaved the person onto their back. His eyes were wide and staring. Sirius pressed two fingers to the cooling, sallow neck. Nothing. He swallowed, checked the name plate. Broderick Bode, Unspeakable.

He pushed himself heavily to his feet and wondered if Mad-Eye or Scrimgeour had found any others. Clutching his wand even tighter, he made it to the other door. His eyes were beginning to hurt from the lights, which left little trails across his vision in each space of darkness. He pushed through the door without looking ahead and stepped into empty space.

He fell with a shout of shock more than fear. Wind whistled past his ears. His organs sailed up to his mouth and his brain scrambled for a way to stop himself from falling when suddenly-he jolted to a stop.

His face was inches from a rough, uneven surface. His exhale of relief cleared a patch of dust and tiny granules of what looked like sand. Then the invisible magical safety net released him to the ground. All the air was forced out of his lungs with an abrupt, "Oof!"

So much for stealth. Small stones dug into his stomach and knees. For a moment, he held completely still. He could have sworn he heard voices… a whisper of sound. But there was nothing.

He hefted himself up with his palms and gathered his bearings.

He was in a circular chamber with a ceiling that soared straight up on unmarked gray walls. High above he could see the way he'd come in, the door swinging into free space on loose hinges. The floor was depressed, surrounded on all sides by large stone steps like an amphitheater. His feet scabbled against small rocks, the sounds amplified by the hard surfaces and emptiness of the chamber. All of it centered on a dais, where a narrow archway reared up like a solemn monument.

Sirius tried to control his harshly echoing exhales. He circled the dais until he could see straight between the roughly hewn pillars. A thin, gauzy veil drifted in the arch, fluttering as if there was a breeze. Only there wasn't. The air in the chamber was so still it was as if the very atoms were suspended in place.

Sirius felt his feet being dragged irresistibly forward until he was close enough to stretch out his fingers and touch… he didn't. But he was riveted in place. The veil was almost fluid, rippling and translucent.

And there it was again, the voices. Sirius stared hard. He could have sworn that there was someone standing there, just on the other side. But when he skirted around the archway, there was no one there.

"Hello?" he whispered, forgetting to be quiet.

The murmurs coming from the veil grew more insistent and a strange feeling overcame him. That he should know the owners of those voices. There was something familiar about the tone, the pattern of speech.

"Who are you?"

No answer. Only now they seemed louder, even more distinctive. How did he know them? Had he been here before? The hair prickled on the back of his neck. The force of recognition dragged him even closer to the veil, despite the warning in the back of his mind. His fingers flicked forward-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The new voice was clear-cut as glass. Sirius whirled, raising his wand arm. A man stood at the top of the amphitheater steps. The hood of his black cloak was up, but he raised two bone-white hands and lowered it.

"Pyrites," Sirius said quietly. Suddenly the reason for his being here in the first place slammed back into his consciousness. The dead man in the holding cells. The Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. Not this place.

"Mr. Black," returned the other man. He descended the steps casually. He was just as Sirius remembered him from their one meeting outside the evidence room. Unremarkable. No features worth noting besides his deadened, pale eyes and gloved hands.

Pyrites stepped on the dais, eyes fixed on the veil. Sirius moved aside and back a few paces, keeping his wand leveled at his chest.

"You're a Death Eater."

"Is that what you want me to be, Black? Or need me to be?" asked the man softly. Then his face darkened like it was plunged into shadows. "A consumer of death? I can be that… superior to you, to mudbloods and blood-traitors." He sneered and his face was like a skull. "Death is nothing to me."

The veil rippled and for a moment Sirius thought he could make out words in the murmurs. Pyrites tilted his head as though listening.

"Can you hear them? The dead? I cannot..."

Sirius glanced away from Pyrites' face for just a moment, just to look back at the veil. A thin thread of understanding tightened around his heart.

"Why are you here?" Sirius asked. "If it's nothing to you?"

"Just passing through. My purpose was in another chamber."

But he twitched, like some instinct was still drawing him closer to the archway too. But he looked at it like it was something repulsive.

"It still haunts you," Sirius said.

"And what do you know of being haunted?"

He clenched his jaw and did not answer.

"Perhaps you need me to be a Death Eater so you can put those haunts to rest."

"You are a Death Eater. You were behind everything, the Longbottoms, the Carmichaels, the break-out from Azkaban."

"I was. And more than you could ever guess."

Sirius' stomach did a small leap of triumph. Pyrites confessed to an auror. That would certainly make things easier. The man was unexpectedly talkative, as if he was content to converse instead of fight. So Sirius asked, "What happened to Remus Lupin? Where is he?"

"Of course. Moony," The whisper slithered through the chamber like something poisonous.

"How could you know that name?"

A slow grin spread Pyrites' mouth, lifting one cheek more than the other. The blank mask folded away and for one horrifying, world-toppling second, Sirius knew him. The wryness, the spark of amusement twinkling through eyes that were the wrong color. Barely. Like fool's gold compared to amber. It was wrong. All wrong.

Remus' expressions did not belong on that face.

"Please, Padfoot, your doubt of my intuition is just insulting after all these years."

Coming from that mouth, the statement riddled him with holes. Those words… Merlin, those words did not belong here. They belonged to someone else. They belonged to years ago. When the very bones of them were not broken. Sacred time.

"Stop it."

But Pyrites hands were in his pockets, casual. The correct favoring of the left shoulder, the slight tilt of his head. "I meant to visit you," he sighed softly.

"Stop it!"

His shout echoed against the high vaulted ceiling. Even the veil seemed to ripple with the force of it, tossing indistinguishable musings into the air. They sounded comforting, familiar. He pulled back his control. "Where. Is. He?" It was unsteady. But firm.

Pyrites laughed softly, but Remus fell away, replaced by that chilling blank canvas.

"Do you miss him?"

Sirius refused to answer.

"You are lonely, aren't you?" probed Pyrites softly. His eyes scraped over Sirius' face as if he were savoring it. Mocking him.

"Your friend was quite lonely," he continued. "A little pet project of mine, teaching others the bliss of indifference. To unmask their weakness, show them how their questioning of pain was the source of their suffering. 'Why did this happen?'" he simpered, his expression contorting into grief. "'Why? Why? WHY?!'"

Pyrites' voice rose to a shout and echoed around him. He sniffed disdainfully. Sirius watched, unnerved.

"Werewolves tend to be oddly resilient to the Mirror's effects, so he never quite enjoyed the numbness. It was the same with the others, Owais, Greyback, Abalendu. But I suppose if you're already a monster…" A strange smirk twisted his mouth and he let the sentence hang in the cavernous space for an instant. "And Remus was just so… interesting. He was in so much pain, and yet… and yet…"

Pyrite's face remained smooth, but his words tapered away.

"I forget myself. This isn't about your abnormal friend. It's about the Dark Lord. He is the reason I'm here, after all. The reason you're here."

He shivered as he mentioned his master, but not with fear.

"He found me in my despair and took me into his fold. I had a talent the Dark Lord valued," he explained. "My… self-malleability. I molded myself to what people wanted, something I learned to do in school. I was an awkward child. Shy. Was bullied in my own House for being… different. So I changed to suit them. But Ileana…" He glanced at the veil. "She saw me. She was the first to truly see me. So I fell for her like a child. I had friends, for a time. Friends who I believed loved me for my intelligence, who taught me wit and belonging. They were mine. She was mine." He paused in his speech, which was delivered without feeling or a hint of emotion. "And then I lost them."

Sirius could not speak. Pyrites circled the archway, his gloved fingers a hair's breadth from the swaying veil. He reminded him of a shark, hollowed-out and predatory.

"With the Dark Lord's guidance, I remade myself. I became more than the suffering they put me through. He taught me what true power was. He's the one who showed me the Mirror. Taught me to numb… everything. Become emptied of that thing that makes you so weak. Love."

His monotonous tone changed on the word, like it choked him. But then after a second's pause, he continued.

"My identity became nothing but serving his greater purpose. Collecting more people to serve him. Turning them. And then he… he has shown me now his greatest triumph. He has mastered Death."

The gloved hand was trembling. It was barely perceptible, but the tremor was there.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, his throat dry.

Pyrites ignore him.

"This veil is fascinating, isn't it?" he mused aloud. "They keep it here like it is something meant for study. As if the cure to death is in understanding why it is."

"What… do you mean?"

"There are many rooms in this department, Sirius," Pyrites continued without answering. "This one here. One is locked. Always locked." His face flickered strangely, his lip curled in disgust while his pale-coin eyes stayed blank. The disconnection in the expression was almost more unnerving than the casual imitation of Remus. "And another place. The Hall of Prophecies. Have you ever been inside, Sirius?"

"No."

"It's a very large room," said Pyrites. He stepped mechanically away from the veil. It was odd and halting. "Much larger than this one. The future is infinitely-faceted, yet we all must accept this inevitable destination. At least that's what we thought. The fools in the Ministry have no idea what magic is capable of. The Dark Lord...knows." The last part was whispered with reverence.

Then, in a fluid motion, he swept a hand into his pocket. Sirius reacted instantly, readying his wand arm. Magic sparked like electricity in his arm, on the cusp of a spell. But Pyrites gave him a condescending smirk and drew out… an orb.

It glowed with an unearthly light that undulated inside like some kind of creature. Nonplussed, Sirius stared.

"This is what I came f-for," hissed Pyrites. And for a moment, his voice grated and hitched. He cracked his neck and continued. "This is the prophecy that foretold the end. The Chosen One and the Dark Lord intertwined by the words of a seer."

Sirius felt a surge of panic. He was not sure what Pyrites could do with that kind of knowledge, but it wasn't good. And there was something wrong with the Death Eater, something off.

"It took… a very long time to acquire this," whispered the man on the dais, but haltingly, as if getting the words out of his mouth was a challenge. "A very l-long time. But I learned… much of this reality. The collapse of infinite possibilities into something… finite. It's violent, but almost… beautiful in a way. This prophecy fixes a single point in time. Certainty instead of probability. No matter what I do now, it all spirals to this inescapable future."

Pyrites weighed the orb in his hand. It swirled brightly like a planet covered in clouds.

"So only one question remains: Who lives, who dies?"

And without warning, the Death Eater's other hand snapped out and a spell was hurtling towards Sirius. Sirius dove to the side and returned fire, but the dais was empty.

"Black, your left!"

Sirius spun. Pyrites was only four paces away brandishing his wand. Sirius brought his up-

A bright carmine spell flashed from behind Sirius. Pyrites barely had enough time to shield himself. The spell ricocheted up into the high ceiling, giving Sirius time to scramble backwards.

"Damn it, Sirius, I said don't take them alone!" Mad-Eye bellowed as he drove Pyrites back.

"He found me!" Sirius snapped indignantly, stepping up onto the dias edge. "And it's only him!"

"It isn't," Mad-Eye retorted shortly. He sent a volley of clubbing hexes at Pyrites' head, but the Death Eater gracefully twisted sideways and up the amphitheater steps with a smirk. "Two or three others. Scrimgeour's chasing them down. Back-up's arrived."

Mad-Eye was distracted then by a fiery lash that lassoed out of the tip of Pyrites' wand and cracked at the space right above their heads. Sirius ducked and rolled, ending up uncomfortably close to the whispering archway. He gained his knees and aimed at the prophecy in Pyrites' hand.

"Relashio!"

Pyrites was too quick. The pale copper eyes reflected the flashing spells he blocked, and returned them with fierce, unrestrained skill. Sirius and Mad-Eye together could not seem to get an upper hand. Every move they made seemed anticipated by the Death Eater, as if he could keep track of both aurors at the same time.

Shouts came from above.

"Black! Moody!"

Pyrites' face hardened and changed.

"Enough," he hissed. "Reducto!"

The floor in front of Sirius' feet erupted. In slow motion, he felt himself flying backwards towards the veil. The whispering grew louder-

"Protego Duro!"

Sirius felt the back of his head hit something solid. White flashed across his vision. Then he crumbled to the shattered ground of the Death Chamber. His head gave an excruciating throb and he knew no more.


Consciousness slammed into Sirius like a train. He sucked in a breath and shot upright.

"Whoa!"

Hands grabbed his shoulders, held him down. His head spun dizzily, but he squinted at his surroundings and instantly recognized the Auror Department's private medical bay.

"Pyrites," he gasped out.

"We lost him," said Nelson's voice.

Sirius swore explosively.

"Where's Mad-Eye?" he demanded.

"Briefing the Minister."

"Scrimgeour?"

"Out cold."

Sirius glanced to the cot on his right and glimpsed the Head Auror's tawny mane of hair.

"I almost had him." He rubbed his hands up his face and into his tangled locks, gripping them with frustration. Dread coiled in his stomach. Something about Pyrites had been… not right. And they had let him get away. "He has the prophecy."

Nelson did not seem to know what to say to this. Sirius realized that he probably had no idea what he was talking about.

He heard someone enter the med bay.

"Hapley," said Burke's voice. "Moody wants a word."

Sirius' fingers tensed. When Nelson stood, so did Sirius, albeit carefully. The dread simmered into his blood and grew hot.

"You should have had the Department of Mysteries searched first," he stated in a controlled voice.

"My mistake," sneered Burke. His steely eyes went to Nelson. "Hapley."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're trying to imply-"

"Sirius-"

"Why didn't you?!" Sirius snarled over Nelson's soft rebuke. Burke's mouth thinned.

"The connection did not occur to me until you mentioned it," he said through clenched teeth. "Not everyone has obsessed over this case like you have."

"Don't act like you didn't," Sirius spat. "Why else would you reopen Carmichael's file?"

"You did that when you started looking into your friend's disappearance. That's what this was alway about wasn't it? Your prodigal werewolf?"

"Leave him out of this!"

"Why should I? How do you know he's not already involved, working for the other side?"

"Shut up."

"You weren't there after the Dark Lord's fall. You weren't there to watch him self-destruct."

"Augustine," Nelson warned sharply.

"Speaking of the Carmichael case," Burke continued as if he did not hear. "I talked to Mellie. Did you know that he visited Liam in the middle of the night just before he disappeared and Liam was found mauled to death? Apparently the conversation was…" Burke shot him a cold, vindictive smile. "Tense."

A high-pitched ringing filled Sirius' ears. "You're lying," he said automatically. "She never said…" But he and Mad-Eye had not asked Mellie about Remus.

"All this to say, well…" Burke paused, his face contorted into false sympathy. "Once a monster-"

Burke never got to finish. When Sirius' vision cleared, the tall auror was on the floor holding his jaw and Nelson was holding him back, yelling, "ENOUGH! ENOUGH SIRIUS!"

"LET GO OF ME!"

"I SAID ENOUGH!"

Sirius jerked backwards out of Nelson's grip, but retreated away from Burke's prone form, struggling for air. Over his gasping breath and pounding heart, he could hear Nelson saying crisply to Burke, "Get out of here. Tell Mad-Eye I'm on my way. Don't bother lying to him, he's going to hear everything from me."

Movement. Scrambling, then a self-satisfied huff of breath. Sirius nearly spun back for a second attack, but then Burke was gone and Nelson was watching him warily from the door.

"I'm coming to the meeting," Sirius grit out. He felt slightly sick, Pyrites' words about Remus still too close.

"No."

"I'm coming to the-"

"No, you are not," Nelson barked. "Now I don't know what kind of shit has been going down between you and Burke, but there's another war brimming outside these walls and the last thing we need is a second one inside our ranks." Then his face softened into the familiar, kind mentor who had once been James' partner. "I know he provoked you. We took a hit today. Take a moment to yourself. Go home."

"I can't just…" he stumbled over his words. "I have to be here… Pyrites could be anywhere-"

"He's gone, Sirius," Nelson said firmly. "We can debrief you later. If it makes you feel better, check in with the sentries at Borgin and Burke's, we haven't had a report from them yet. Then go home. Be with your kid."

This snapped Sirius out of his fury. His kid. No one had ever called Harry that before.

So, with a stiff nod, he snatched his wand from the bedside table, threw on his outer robes, and swept out of the ward. He barely noticed the chaos of the rest of the Ministry, the people trying to grab his attention. They quickly backed out of his way when they saw his stony expression. He knew his knuckles had split on Burke's face and were bleeding, but he could not quite bring himself to care.

And he still couldn't get Pyrites out of his head.

He arrived in Knockturn alley with a loud crack that reverberated against the narrow walls. He blinked. By his watch it was nearing late afternoon, but the alley was submerged in deep, brooding shadows. The air was stifling, crackling with electricity. A low rumble prompted Sirius to tilt his head back. Heavy, black clouds skimmed the rooftops. Straggling shoppers were slinking indoors or hurrying towards the Leaky Cauldron via Diagon Alley, hoping to avoid getting soaked by an inevitable downpour. A few eyes peered down at him from upper windows. A door slammed.

He noticed with foreboding that the streets were nearly abandoned as he approached Borgin and Burke's, except for a scrawny tabby cat rooting through some trash nearby. He slowed, softening his footsteps.

When he came up on the narrow alley where they had found Abalendu's body, he paused to study the gloom. Immediately, he changed course. Slumped against the wall like a ragdoll was Rudy Williamson. Sirius slipped cautiously to his side and pressed his fingers against the trainee's neck. Paused. Then sighed as a pulse thrummed steadily against his fingertips. He was only stunned.

He straightened, a mixture of apprehension and exasperation tingling in his tired limbs.

Just his luck. Twice in one day. Didn't Death Eaters sleep?

He darted up the tiny slot that snaked between buildings to the back entrance of the shop. Another stunned auror. Up the stairs to the flat roof of the building next door. Deirdre Savage was flat on her back, snoring softly.

Swearing, Sirius returned to the ground and crossed the main road like a shadow. The first few drops of rain spit on the cobblestones. There should be one more sentry next to the apothecary… and there he was, leaning up against the bins, head lolling. Discreetly dispatched.

Whispering a few more choice swear words, Sirius slid along the apothecary's outer wall until he could see Borgin and Burke's storefront. A little plaque on the dark window read, "Closed Until Further Notice. Gone Collecting." Lightning lit up the alley and a distant rumble rolled over London. More raindrops, fat and heavy, spattered down.

He drew his wand, preparing to cast a patronus to call Mad-Eye. Happy thoughts. All he had to do was picture Burke's stunned expression when he'd hit him… Nelson saying, "Be with your kid." Harry. The prophecy.

Pyrites holding the orb and his disconnected expressions...

Electricity flooded the sky again. Sirius stilled. Something was moving inside. Reckless impulse drove all thoughts of a patronus from his mind.

In the blind pause between lightning and thunder he melted into a dog and darted to the shop, blending into the shadows just beneath the window. For an instant, every sense was on hyper-alert, his nose flooded by the noxious smell of rain on alley dirt and scum. And a spark of an old memory…

Then with the next boom of thunder he was human again and bursting through the door, wand blazing.

The figure inside spun and deftly deflected Sirius' curse without a word. It rebounded, exploding a glass display cabinet. Dark artifacts flew through the air. Sirius sidestepped the scattered debris and shards, ducked beneath a single, unfamiliar spell.

He straightened, the words of another hex ready on his lips. His wand was already slashing downwards-

Lightning flashed, erupting through the window. It caught the face of the other man, throwing it into sharp detail. Sirius choked off the spell and every muscle in his body froze in place.

Time stopped.

Everything stopped, like the rest of the universe blinked out of existence, leaving only two men in a dark room and a storm.

In his chest, his heart fractured. Then started again, faster and faster and faster.


A/N: ...sorry?