Author's Note: I re-vamped the chapter structure on July 15, 2020, to go from 11 enormous chapters to 25 reasonably sized ones. I didn't change or add anything, except fixing some typos or grammatical things, so there is no need to re-read.

Apologies if you got a message and though there was an update to the sequel. There will be one in the next day or two!

SEQUEL: This is the last chapter of Book One! You can find the sequel on my profile.

It turned out that Alphard lived in Muggle London quite near the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius had never really thought about where his mostly absent uncle lived, if not with his parents and not at any of the family homes Sirius knew about, but it still startled him to learn that it was in Muggle London of all places.

"We can take a cab or the underground, or we can Apparate," his uncle informed him once they'd left the safety of the Leaky Cauldron and joined the crowd of Muggles on the sidewalk outside. "Or we could always walk. It's only just over a mile."

The summer heat was oppressive even though Sirius had stripped off his wizard robes before leaving the pub, and he turned a baleful look on Alphard for that last suggestion.

Alphard laughed, just once, as he stepped out of the way of a Muggle woman pushing a baby carriage with one hand and trying to keep hold of a young child with the other.

Sirius felt indescribably uncomfortable to be left standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk as Muggles rushed past him on all sides, so he followed the older man into the shadow of an awning, where Alphard was standing against the brick wall and patting his own pockets in search of something.

Walking was out of the question. Apparating would be easiest, but Sirius did hate Side-Along Apparition with a passion, and he didn't want his first impression on Dolohov after such a long separation to be him hurling all over the man's shoes when they landed. Sirius wasn't particularly keen on riding in a Muggle automobile, but he could admit that he was curious from the books he'd been reading while waiting for Janice in the Muggle Studies section of the library. And he had no idea what the underground was supposed to be, but it didn't sound promising and he had no desire to find out.

"I think a cab," he finally answered.

A Muggle man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase jostled him then and didn't even stop to apologize, and Sirius glared after him with an expression that could only have been learnt from being as privileged and spoilt as he was.

Alphard smiled again as he finally removed a small silver box from his pocket, but he didn't comment.

Sirius watched curiously as he flipped part of the box open and held it up to his mouth, where a small tube that looked like a rolled up bit of parchment was dangling from between his lips. The flame appeared almost like magic, although Sirius could see that his uncle wasn't holding a wand, and then a sharp, acrid smell wafted over to Sirius along with the puff of smoke Alphard exhaled out his nostrils.

"You've never ridden in a car, have you?" asked Alphard.

It was a silly question, in Sirius's opinion. When would he have ever had a reason to ride in a car? He was surprised that his uncle had even offered.

"I am as pure-blooded as any of you," continued Alphard as Sirius followed him to the curb and watched him raise his arm up above his head to signal the passing cars, "but the Muggles do have some wonderful indulgences."

If Alphard was referring to the awful thing he was puffing on, then Sirius would have to disagree that it was wonderful in any way at all.

However, the next few minutes that he spent crowded into the backseat of the Muggle car were something like wonderful. Sirius was fascinated by the mechanics of the whole thing, which he had read about in his books but had never thought he'd ever see in person. He leaned forward so that he could peer over the front seat and watch the driver's feet and hands maneuver the vehicle down the busy London streets.

Soon, though, he found himself distracted by the people and the shops they were passing. There were so many different kinds of cars along the streets that Sirius could hardly believe that Muggles would need so many options. Since he was used to the relatively limited number of shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, he was absolutely floored by the sheer number of shops in Muggle London and the astounding selection of wares they offered. Furthermore, the Muggles in the cars and the shops and on the sidewalk were dressed in such a variety of different types of clothing that Sirius was sure he'd be overwhelmed if he had that many to choose between.

The cab finally came to a smooth stop in front of a large redbrick house with white friezes at every story and black wrought iron along the balconies. Alphard unfolded himself gracefully out of the car and onto the street, crushing the remains of his smoking parchment beneath his foot as he went, and Sirius followed somewhat reluctantly.

"Have you ever ridden a motorbike?" he asked his uncle as he trotted after him up the small staircase towards the front door of one of the houses.

Alphard paused as he was fitting his key into the door (very similar to a Gringotts key, Sirius noticed, and assumed that his uncle had goblin-made security measures) and turned his head to face his nephew with a surprised expression on his face.

"A motorbike? Why would I have?"

Sirius shrugged and, suddenly embarrassed, turned to study the molding around the door. "No reason, I suppose. I just thought that if you ride in cars then you might have ridden a motorbike."

Alphard made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "I think that only a certain type of Muggle tends to ride motorbikes, and I certainly do not qualify."

He pushed the heavy door open then and ushered Sirius into a narrow entryway. But no sooner had they entered than he was walking briskly down the hallway, so Sirius rushed after him and didn't have time to take in the interior of his uncle's house beyond a few brief glimpses into open doorways. His uncle led him into a study, which was roomier than Orion's study at Grimmauld Place, and closed the door behind them.

"Have a seat, Sirius."

Sirius watched in confusion as Alphard took a seat on the small settee sitting along one wall and gestured for Sirius to take one of the chairs across from him.

"I thought I was coming to see Dolohov," he said, letting just a bit of indignation creep into his voice.

"And perhaps you will, later," came the calm response. "First I think we need to have a chat just between us."

Sirius pressed his lips together reflexively in annoyance. He couldn't imagine what on earth his uncle, who had barely spoken to him at all in his entire life, would suddenly have to say to him in private.

He demanded, "About what?"

Alphard frowned at him, whether at the tone Sirius had taken with him or at the reluctance to cooperate, or both, Sirius couldn't have said. Then his face lightened dramatically all of a sudden, as if he had just realized how difficult the situation was going to be for his nephew. Sirius was even more wary of the pitying look than he was of his uncle's anger. Anger he could handle; pity he could not.

Finally, Alphard quietly said, "About the Lestrange boy."

He didn't have to elaborate. Sirius knew immediately what he meant, and it felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him and his stomach had plummeted a mile beneath the surface of the earth, while the rest of his body got left behind in his uncle's study in Muggle London. He hadn't realized that he'd nearly fallen over until he felt one of his uncle's arms wrap firmly around his back to hold him steady.

"How… How do you… How?" spluttered Sirius. His voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears, but he was past caring.

Alphard led him the few steps to the chairs he'd offered earlier and unceremoniously dropped his nephew onto one.

"Calm down," he ordered. His tone was firm but not harsh, and he pressed a glass into one of Sirius's clammy hands. "Sip that. Your mind is incredibly open, Sirius, and you were thinking rather colorfully about him."

"You read my mind?" Sirius demanded. Sirius ignored the glass in his hand and turned to level an impressive, hurt glare at his uncle. How was he supposed to calm down! He didn't want to calm down! "How dare you!"

Alphard rose back to his full height then and towered over Sirius in a way that would have been menacing if Sirius hadn't been so angry and panicked already that he was beyond the ability to be menaced.

"Your father asked me to risk my reputation and possibly my very place in our family by bringing you into my home, to meet with my—" he began, but just as he had built up a good head of steam he stopped suddenly and seemed to deflate all at once.

He took a deep breath and a step backwards so that he could sink down onto the settee again and look his nephew levelly in the eyes. He began again much more calmly.

"I knew that if I agreed to this, then you could do immeasurable damage to my life just by opening your mouth. I am ashamed to say that I hardly know you at all, even if you are my nephew, and I was not willing to put my own neck on the line without taking a little peak first."

Sirius clenched his jaw unhappily. Nothing his uncle said would really be able to make up for the enormous violation of using Legilimency against him, but he could understand why Alphard had done it. He finally brought the tumbler of whisky to his lips and took a sip, more to give himself something to do than anything. Eventually, he gathered what remained of his courage—He was a Gryffindor, after all!—and met his uncle's eyes.

"I bet you saw more than you were expecting, then."

Alphard laughed, but it wasn't cruel or mocking at all.

The stifling tension that had filled the room began to ease, and he replied, "Well, I suppose it's what I get for eavesdropping, as it were."

He downed his own whisky in one go again, like he had earlier in Knockturn Alley, and Sirius wondered if he was a habitual drinker or if he was just particularly stressed out by the goings on of the day.

"Look, Sirius, you don't have to worry that I'm going to tell anybody or hold it over your head," he finally began again as he magically sent his and Sirius's (still half full) tumbler back to the sideboard behind his desk. "I am gay, too."

"I'm not gay," replied Sirius at once. It sounded too defensive to his own ears, and he winced a bit and tried again. "I mean, it's fine with me that you are. I already knew you were anyway, even before Rabastan and I—well, just before. But I like girls, too. I have a girlfriend and everything, and I like kissing her."

Alphard's black eyes studied him intensely, but Sirius avoided making direct eye contact. He didn't trust the older man not to invade his mind again.

Finally, his uncle seemed to determine that his relationship with his nephew was too new for him to go prying into the details of Sirius's love life, and he settled for asking, "How did you know about me?"

Sirius winced again at the memory of his grandfather's hateful words and of his own father's mocking reply. "Grandfather Arcturus spent all last summer going on about every blemish on the bloodline of my mother's side of the family, after Andromeda. He mentioned you once or twice."

Alphard's laugh was a humorless, chilling thing. "Yes, I shouldn't be surprised. It seems that everybody in our family knows except for my own parents."

Sirius didn't have anything to add to that—he didn't think there was anything he could add to it—so he stayed silent and watched his uncle tensely tap out an erratic beat with his fingers against the arm of the settee.

After perhaps half a minute in silence, Alphard declared, "Well, that is why you are lucky that I discovered this about you now. Arcturus may do many things, but he wouldn't violate your mind when you're so young, unless there was a life or death situation." Sirius refrained from asking what that made Alphard, if he was willing to do something so heinous to his own nephew that even Arcturus wouldn't do. "However, after your OWLs he will undoubtedly begin to train you in Occlumency, because you can't begin to take on any of the more colorful aspects of our family's affairs if anybody could gain access to your mind. You wouldn't have wanted him to be the one to see your memories of the Lestrange boy."

Sirius couldn't deny that. It had never occurred to him before to worry that anybody in his family might pluck his secrets right out of his head, because that was one line that even the Blacks did not cross without good reason. It was horrifying to realize that in a few short years his grandfather (and his father, for that matter, and maybe even his mother) would have seen his memories anyway in the process of teaching him to shield his mind.

He eyed his uncle speculatively. "Are you saying that you'll help me?"

"Yes, I am. I will teach you Occlumency. You will be here anyway, when you meet with Antonin, and it shouldn't be too much trouble for you to stay another hour or two."

"Thank you," Sirius replied with complete sincerity and not a little gratitude.

He mentally added another thing to the long list of Slytherin-worthy deceptions he was engaged in at present.

"There's no point starting now," said Alphard. He turned to his side and ran his fingers along the spines of several books in the inbuilt floor-to-ceiling bookcase, and when he found the one he was looking for he plucked it from the shelf and tossed it to Sirius. "You can read that before your next visit. It explains all of the basics. But now I think we ought to invite in Antonin. He's been listening at the door for a while now."

Sirius blushed bright red, first with anger at having been eavesdropped on and then with embarrassment at what Dolohov must have heard. He turned in his chair in time to see the cherry oak door swing open and reveal his dueling instructor's dark, glowering face.

"I do not listen in at doors," he growled quite convincingly. His gruff voice was even deeper and more authoritative than Sirius remembered.

Alphard didn't seem particularly worried. He smiled another full smile and waved his hand dismissively.

"You are the worst liar I've ever met, and the biggest gossip. Now stop dawdling and come in so you can tell Sirius that you don't mind at all about anything you heard."

Dolohov frowned and stalked into the room. Sirius thought that he was going to pull out his wand and curse Uncle Alphard into next week, which is what he had always thought Dolohov was likely to do to anybody who disrespected him so enormously. Then Dolohov leaned down and roughly seized one of Alphard's arms, and Sirius thought for a moment that his dueling instructor might punch his uncle or something equally as Muggle. He only had a few seconds to wonder at how out of character that seemed before he realized that all of his preconceptions would have to be thrown out immediately.

Alphard craned his neck to look Dolohov straight in the face, and Dolohov leaned forward menacingly, and then their mouths met in a violent kiss and Sirius's mouth dropped open in wonder and shock.

Sure he had kissed Rabastan and let the other boy's tongue explore his mouth just as thoroughly as Dolohov seemed to be exploring Alphard's, but it was one thing to do it and quite another to watch somebody else do it.

And it was Dolohov! Sirius supposed that it seemed very silly, now that he was thinking about it, to have imagined that all men who were interested in other men, besides Rabastan and himself, were somehow not as strong or masculine as other men. He hadn't even really consciously thought of it that way, but now that he was faced with the truth about Dolohov, of all people, he realized that he'd been subconsciously buying into the hateful, bigoted things his grandfather had said.

It was Dolohov who pulled back from the kiss, although he kept his hand resting on Alphard's shoulder. It seemed more an affectionate gesture now than the violent gesture it had seemed to be earlier.

"Does that answer your questions?" he demanded. The rasp in his voice was even stronger now than usual, and he was still staring down at his lover, but the question was unmistakably aimed at Sirius.

It occurred to Sirius to simply say yes, but instead he chirped, "Well, now I've thought of a few more you can probably answer."

Alphard's startled laugh in that moment resembled Orion's bark-like laughter.

Dolohov turned to look at Sirius with raised eyebrows, and his expression was as unclouded as Sirius had ever seen it in all the time they'd spent together. The burly man turned back to glance at Alphard.

"His smart mouth reminds me of yours."

"Is that why you like him so much?" returned Alphard immediately.

Dolohov scowled in a way that probably frightened most people. "Don't go telling the little brat I like him! I've been working for a year and a half to break him of that cockiness of his."

Sirius would have been offended, except that he fancied that he could now read the glint of humor in the intimidating man's eyes. He supposed it only made sense that watching a guy make out with your uncle right in front of you would have the effect of making him seem more human.

He grinned. "It's too late anyway. Rabastan already told me that you must like me if you haven't refused to teach me by now."

Dolohov rolled his eyes as he headed for the door, motioning for Sirius to come with him, and Sirius couldn't tell if it was real annoyance or only mock annoyance.

"That boy is almost more trouble than he's worth," said Dolohov as they exited Alphard's study and headed towards the back of the house. When Dolohov looked back and judged that Alphard wasn't following and that they were far enough away not to be overheard, he added, "I suppose that you are what inspired him to kill that tramp in Knockturn Alley."

Sirius felt his face redden again. "He was already plenty inspired to kill without my help."

"But he did kill her to protect you," insisted Dolohov, firmly but not exactly unkindly.

"To protect us," Sirius emphasized. "He can't exactly afford for the world to know about him either."

He was quite sure that Rabastan hadn't told the man that they easily could have avoided having to kill the woman at all, if they had simply chosen not to snog in that particular alleyway, so he decided not to mention it either. Undoubtedly Dolohov was under the impression that the woman had happened upon the scene in the middle of things.

Dolohov grunted noncommittally and turned to push open a pair of large double doors, so Sirius assumed that the topic was closed.

He followed his dueling instructor into an empty ballroom. It was much smaller and less elaborate that the one at Grandfather Pollux's manor, but it was certainly large enough for their purposes. Sirius's excitement grew with every passing moment as he watched Dolohov divest himself of his cumbersome robes until he was standing, like Sirius was, in only his trousers and shirt.

The instructor crossed to the other side of the room and spun to face his pupil with his wand already trained on him. "Now, let's see how much ground we have to make up."

Without any more warning than that, a bright purple jet of light streaked towards Sirius at full speed. A year ago he probably wouldn't have reacted in time to dodge it, but now he deftly spun out of the way, feeling the sleeve of his shirt get singed but no contact against his skin. He quickly shot his own curse at Dolohov even as he was judging the best way to avoid the man's second curse, which was already halfway to him.

Sirius lasted for several minutes before he was finally brought down by a particularly nasty Stinging Jinx that made his hand swell up so terribly that he dropped his wand. He thought about pulling out his spare wand, but he wasn't sure he wanted to reveal yet another of his secrets today. No, he'd much rather bask in Dolohov's tutelage for a while before he pulled out all of the stops.

"You're even quicker than I remember," commented his instructor.

Sirius felt his ego swell up even larger than his afflicted hand, but he knew that Dolohov didn't appreciate such things so he refrained from agreeing. Instead he smiled gratefully and said, "It's the Quidditch, I think, and the calisthenics."

Dolohov gave him a befuddled look. "The what?"

"Calisthenics," explained Sirius. "It's this Muggle thing that our Quidditch captain made us do, all these stretches and exercises that are supposed to make you stronger and improve your balance and agility."

The Death Eater still looked dubious about it, but eventually he nodded his acceptance and allowed, "Hmm, well, I guess I can't argue with the results."

The summer continued with sweltering heat broken up only by the frequent rain. James had taken to the suggestion that they have summer Quidditch practice like a Niffler to gold. The unfavorable weather didn't stop him at all; he said that getting a bit damp couldn't dampen his spirits. Sirius thought that saying they got a bit damp was an enormous understatement, but he needed the Quidditch practices to continue so he didn't complain.

His grandfather was apparently unhappy that Sirius had chosen to spend his time with James Potter and dedicate it all to Quidditch, rather than to spend his time with his family and dedicate it all to furthering his lessons. Sirius did spend some time at home, of course, and much of it was spent holed up in his father's study so that he could be taught this or that, but he mostly spend his time either with James or with Uncle Alphard and Dolohov.

Walburga did nothing to hide her hurt and anger over the fact that Sirius wasn't spending as much time with her anymore, but Orion gently (and frequently) reminded her that teenagers all went through phases where they didn't want to spend time with their parents. Regulus was quite happy to fill the gap, and as a result his and Sirius's relationship was vastly improved over the summers when Sirius had soaked up the lion's share of their family's attentions and Regulus had been insanely jealous.

Still, both Arcturus and Walburga were extremely displeased when Sirius announced his intention to sleep over for an entire weekend at the Potters' home in Godric Hollow.

"Absolutely not! I forbid it!" declared his mother over breakfast. She did not bother to regulate the volume of her voice, and Sirius, who was sitting right next to her, winced at her loud screech. "You already spend four days a week with that—that—boy!"

Sirius straightened his posture and steeled himself for the ensuing confrontation, but before he could reply his grandfather broke in.

"I agree with your mother. There is no possible reason for you to see your friend for an entire weekend when you already spend so much time with him."

Sirius's narrowed eyes were the only visible sign of his displeasure. He continued to calmly spoon eggs onto his plate and said, "All of the boys in my year will be there. I have worked so hard for them to accept me as one of their own, and I would hate to be left out of whatever it is that they do together at sleepovers."

"It is expected nowadays for children to spend the night at one another's houses," Orion added helpfully as he added sugar to his tea. "We mustn't cause Sirius to be ostracized from his group, especially now that Narcissa and her friends have left Hogwarts."

His grandfather remained unhappy but was convinced—after all, he'd been the one to tell Sirius three years ago that he ought to do whatever was needed to establish himself as a part of the Gryffindors.

Walburga remained unhappy and completely unconvinced, but she was overruled.

Sirius trudged down the stairs after breakfast with his Nimbus slung over his shoulder, but it was all for looks since he didn't really expect that they'd get any flying done. He'd Flooed back and forth so many times over the summer that he thought he had probably been quite cured of his difficulties with it. Today he stepped out of the Potters' fireplace with hardly any stumbling at all.

"Good morning, dear," greeted Dorea Potter.

The Potters' house was comfortable and very well-furnished but not any larger than it needed to be to house three people. There was only one room that served as both the formal drawing room and the family's living room. Whenever Sirius arrived, James's mother was usually sitting in the most comfortable chair with a book or her knitting.

He didn't react when she drew her wand and pointed it directly at him, although the first time she'd done it he had very nearly drawn his wand back on her. He was glad he hadn't, though, because she only intended to use a mild Cleaning Charm to remove the ashes from his person.

"Good morning, Mrs. Potter," he replied. "How is the project coming?"

She frowned and shook her head in exasperation. "Terribly! I'm afraid I know that my knitting skills are not up the task, but I refuse to admit any such thing to Bathilda Bagshot after I went on so about being able to handle it."

Sirius laughed and opened his mouth to ask after Professor Bagshot. He had grown quite fond of her during the brief times they'd met when she had been visiting Dorea at the same time he was visiting James. He thought that it was really quite a shame that she had retired from teaching, nigh on a hundred years ago, because she had probably been a much better History of Magic professor than Binns was, even before he'd died.

Then, without warning, Sirius's breath was knocked out of him with an "Ooomph!" when something careened into him hard from behind.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Potter, rising from her seat and coming to stand over the two boys sprawled in a heap on her hearth. "Are you all right?"

Sirius impatiently shoved at Peter. "Get off!"

By the time they had straightened themselves out and were standing on their feet, Peter was still blushing furiously. If Sirius hadn't been so cross with him, he would have felt bad for his friend for having made such a first impression with Mrs. Potter.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Potter!" Peter squeaked in embarrassment as she took out her wand to set to rights the fireplace pokers and table that they'd sent askew in their fall.

She laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, it's no trouble, dear! But I've heard such stories that I can't tell from this incident whether you're Peter or Remus."

Remus and his friends had to spread the various stories of his extreme clumsiness in order to protect him from anybody finding out that all of his injuries were self-inflicted on full moons. Peter was quite clumsy with his spell work, though, which had some disastrous but quite funny effects in class. Sirius supposed that James had told his mother about some of them.

"Oh!" exclaimed Peter, blushing even deeper as he held out his hand. "I'm Peter. Er, Pettigrew."

"Remus can't make it until the day after tomorrow," Sirius informed her.

Actually there was no reason he couldn't have made it today, but Sirius and James had deliberately told him that the sleepover didn't start until the day after tomorrow.

James chose that moment to stride into the drawing room. His hair was as messy always and he had chosen a t-shirt rather than the more formal shirts Sirius and Peter were wearing, and he was carrying a scone in one hand and a muffin in the other.

"There you are!" he cried around a mouthful of one of his baked goods. "I was waiting for you!"

"I can see that you were on pins and needles," Sirius told him drily.

But Mrs. Potter put her hands on her hips and gave him what James called 'the look.' "James Potter!"

Sirius had learned over the course of the summer that "James Potter!" was a kind of shorthand for "James Potter, I have taught you better than to do this-or-that!" There was no need for her to elaborate about what exactly she had taught him better than to do in this case.

James swallowed down what he was chewing and dutifully said, "Sorry, Mum."

After saying goodbye to Mrs. Potter, the boys made a detour to the kitchen for more food before heading outside to the enormous treehouse in the Potters' backyard. It had belonged to James's father before him, and he had assured Sirius that it was the best place for them to brew their potion. He had double and triple checked that his parents didn't have any sort of monitoring charms on the structure, and he insisted that neither of his parents had climbed up into it since James had been barely more than a toddler and had needed help.

The treehouse was barely more than a platform with walls, but it was huge and clean and out of sight of the adults. James had moved the enormous cushions and various pieces of secondhand furniture out of the way and set up a large cauldron in the center of the space.

Peter eyed the cauldron as if something was liable to jump out of it at any moment. "What's that for?"

Sirius couldn't blame him for his suspicion. Things were rarely innocent or benign when James and he were involved. He saw that James was about to make a smartass remark and shot him a quelling look from behind Peter and over his head.

"It's what I said I would tell you about later, remember?" he filled in instead. "We've managed to gather everything we need now, so it's safe to tell you about it."

James gave Sirius a surprised and censorious look at the news that he'd told Peter anything at all about it beforehand.

"Yes, well," he said finally, "Sirius says that if we've got a potion to brew then we need you."

Sirius had told him that Peter was consistently third in their class in Potions, but James's impression of Peter from classes involving wand work was so strong that he still didn't seem to be totally on board with Sirius's claims. Sirius rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment before making his way across the space to snag the book that he and James had left there earlier. He tossed it to Peter.

"Look at the bookmarked page."

Peter looked as if Sirius had given him another ticket to a league final, and Sirius felt momentary guilty at having excluded Peter from their plans for so long. After all, Peter might not be Sirius's closest friend, but Sirius knew that he was Peter's closest friend. He had been there when nobody else had been, and he still was in some ways, especially in potions. Sirius knew that he really ought to treat the other boy better than he did.

Peter's eyebrows rose further up his forehead the further he read. Finally, after several minutes of studying the ingredients list and instructions, he lifted his gaze to look at Sirius, totally ignoring James.

"What in Merlin's name is this? I know that Bicorn horns are used in potions that change the appearance, like the Polyjuice Potion, but I've never heard of a potion that uses the blood."

"The Animagus Potion," answered Sirius quietly but surely.

Peter gaped at him for a moment, then turned to look at James as if he might be able to detect some deception on the other boy's face if he couldn't on Sirius's. When it became clear that both of them seemed perfectly serious, he incredulously echoed, "The Animagus Potion?"

"Yeah," responded James impatiently. "We're gonna become Animagi so that we can stay with Remus during the full moons."

If it were possible, Peter looked even more shocked than before. He stared at James as if he'd sprouted a couple of Bicorn horns himself, then he looked to Sirius. Whether he was seeking a denial or a confirmation Sirius couldn't have guessed.

"We know it's a longshot, but we figure why not try," he explained. He gave Peter a significant look to tell him that he didn't want him to argue with Potter on this one.

Peter looked at him searchingly for a few moments. Eventually he asked, "You've already got the ingredients?"

"Yes," replied James.

"All of them?" Peter pressed doubtfully.

Sirius shrugged. "Yes, all of them. You're better off not knowing how. That's why I didn't want to include you earlier."

The break in at the apothecary in Hogsmeade had made the papers, and Sirius watched ruefully as several different reactions flitted across his friend's face as he put the pieces together. Fortunately, Peter knew enough to know that he really was better off not knowing for sure, so he didn't ask his friends to confirm or deny their involvement.

"I know you can do it, Peter," Sirius cajoled him, sensing that his friend only needed a little push in the right direction to agree to the whole scheme. "We might not be able to get the transfiguration part down, but I know that you can brew the potion."

James looked severely insulted at the implication that Peter was more advanced in Potions than James was in Transfigurations, but Sirius gave him a significant glare and he snapped his mouth closed without actually voicing his opinion aloud.

After a few moments, Peter took a deep breath and said determinedly, "I can do it."

Sirius felt a lot of the time like he was more a referee than a friend.

Towards the end of summer, Grandfather Arcturus summoned Sirius to the unused drawing room previously used for his lessons with Dolohov to meet his new dueling instructor. He was a tall, emaciated-looking man with short robes and an even shorter wand, and Sirius hated him immediately. Even his secret lessons with Dolohov couldn't quell his anger at the presence of this new man, because he was surer than ever that his grandfather had made an enormous and biased mistake in dismissing Dolohov in the first place.

"Friedrich Braun is the best dueling instructor in Germany," his grandfather informed him.

Sirius offered a smile that toed the line between polite and cruelly dismissive. "Oh, really? And how do you stack up against Antonin Dolohov? He was my previous instructor."

The pleasant smile remained plastered to Braun's face. "I assure you that vot I haff to teach you vill be just as good as—"

"Mal sehen, Herr Braun," interrupted Sirius coolly, the nasty tone of his voice clearly indicating how well he thought this new man would do.

The man appeared surprised and affronted at his pupil's attitude. The smile slid off his face, and he looked suddenly like he'd sucked on a lemon.

Arcturus looked as if he wanted nothing more than to take out his wand and give Sirius a good hexing. Instead, he said in a tight voice, "Braun is here to evaluate you, Sirius, to see if he will agree to be your instructor. He usually only takes pupils in fifth year and above, but when he learned that you had already been trained by Mr. Dolohov, he agreed to give you a chance."

"Well then, why don't we get right to it?" suggested Sirius.

He drew his blackthorn wand and executed a mocking bow.

Although he still appeared quite taken aback, Braun agreed and quickly performed his own niceties, while Sirius's grandfather went to stand stiffly on the opposite side of the room to observe.

"First position!" the instructor barked suddenly. Sirius remained immobile, only blinking at the man in confusion. Braun tapped his wand against his palm authoritatively. "I said assume the first position, Black!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow and shot his grandfather a glance full of every bit of annoyance he felt before turning back to his would-be dueling master.

"What the fuck is the first position?"

"Vot do you mean vot is the first postion?" demanded Braun, shock coloring his voice and deepening his accent even further. "Vot has Dolohov been teaching you?"

"Dueling," replied Sirius at once.

Braun let his wand fall limply to his side and spun to face Arcturus. "I thought you said that he is experienced! He has not been taught anything at—"

With a thunderous expression that was at odds with the barest whisper of his voice, Sirius cut him off with a vicious, "Confringo Maxima."

Predictably, Dolohov's common-sense insistence that he not let his opponents hear what he was casting, even if he couldn't yet cast nonverbally, was right on the mark. The ball of pale blue light streaked across the enclosed space so quickly that Braun barely had barely noticed it before it hit him. His hastily cast Shield Charm was only halfway up and he only managed to leap partially out of the way when Sirius's curse crashed into his rudimentary protection with a loud bang and broke apart. Part of it hit Braun in the side and the rest of it ricocheted into the couch on the other side of the room, reducing a large chunk of it to bits.

The instructor hit the floor with a scream, his mangled right arm lying at a disgusting angle next to him as he used his left hand to clutch at his bleeding ribcage.

Arcturus was across the room in seconds, his pale face even whiter than usual.

"Don't move!" he ordered harshly, using a hand on Braun's good shoulder to force him down flat to the floor. He swiveled his head around to glare at Sirius. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

Sirius looked down at him defiantly from his place still standing on the other side of the room.

"I was thinking that Dolohov would have been able to deflect that easily."

Arcturus closed his eyes and visibly took a breath, but before he could respond, the doorway was filled with people who had come to investigate the screaming.

Sirius crossed over to the remaining half of the couch and sank down into the sagging cushion, glancing curiously over the tattered fluff and bent springs of the other half.

There was pandemonium as his father and Uncle Ignatius, who was visiting with Aunt Lucretia for a short holiday from his job at the French Ministry, entered the room and crowded around Braun, quickly followed by his mother and aunt, who crowded around Sirius and clucked over him as if he were the one who were injured.

Through it all, Sirius sat calmly and quietly, absentmindedly twirling his wand in his fingers and watching the proceedings impassively. It was really less frightening that when he'd watched Rabastan cast the Killing Curse, he thought. There hadn't been any sickening glow or feeling of panic, and he was too angry at this imposter of a dueling instructor to really feel sorry for him, whereas he'd felt sorry for the witch who hadn't done anything wrong except be in the wrong alley at the wrong time.

"My darling, what happened?" cooed his mother as she brushed his slightly disheveled hair out of his face and tried to cajole him into coming to her embrace.

A sudden silence fell over the other side of the room, and Sirius was vaguely aware of his mother's arms tightening around him and his aunt sucking in a sickening breath.

His father was the first to rise from his knees. He stared for a moment his bloodstained hands before a quick spell put them to rights, then he turned to stare at Sirius with eyes full of a depth of emotion that Sirius had never witnessed in them before.

"He's dead," Uncle Ignatius announced quite needlessly. Over his wife's gasp, he announced, "We have to contact the Ministry."

Orion stiffened and turned his piercing gaze on his brother-in-law. Arcturus, who was kneeling with his head bowed over the broken body of his erstwhile dueling instructor, didn't respond.

Ignatius pressed, "Arcturus, did you hear? We have to contact them immediately! You're a member of the Wizengamot; you know what has to be done."

"Absolutely not!" Orion declared so forcefully that he surprised everybody in the room. "The Ministry are not coming within a hundred miles of this!"

His brother-in-law stared at him in scandalized surprise for several heartbeats before he managed to respond. "Of course they must! A man is dead!"

Orion raised his wand and pointed it deliberately right between Ignatius's eyes, his own gaze as cold as ice.

"And Sirius killed him. So no, you aren't involving them."

"It was just a dueling accident, wasn't it?" asked Uncle Ignatius, although even he sounded unsure. He glanced briefly at Sirius before turning back to Orion, his hands outspread and his voice full of everything reasonable. "And he's only a minor. I'm sure this will all be over and done with before summer's done. Arcturus!"

Sirius, who felt mostly numb to the goings on generally, was kind of convinced that he'd broken his grandfather somehow. The man hadn't moved at all in ages.

"Father!" called Orion in a loud, authoritative voice.

Finally, slowly, Arcturus raised his eyes from Braun's body and looked up at his son and son-in-law. "Yes," he croaked. He swallowed as he rose to his feet and then he tried again. "Yes, Orion. Do it."

"Do what?!" exclaimed Ignatius, taking a step backwards from his brother-in-law's wand at the same time that Aunt Lucretia rose to her feet with a cry.

"He's my husband! I can't let you!"

Arcturus didn't appear to have anything to say to that. Orion didn't even bother to glance at her, but his icy voice was more than enough to get his point across. "If you try to stop me then I will do the same to you."

She gasped and raised her hand to her throat. Sirius was inexplicably reminded of that day, which seemed so long ago now, when Rabastan had rendered his sister momentarily speechless on the train. Now, as then, the effects didn't last very long.

"I'm your sister!" cried Lucretia in a voice that had gone all high and screechy.

"HE'S MY SON!" roared Orion, finally losing his ice-cold demeanor.

Sirius could barely breathe now, his mother's arms were wound so tight around him.

"Lucretia," she said beseechingly. "Lucretia, please."

His aunt's shoulders hunched just the slightest amount, and she lowered her head. "Fine. Fine… do it. But you had better not take any more than strictly necessary, Orion, and you can't make me stand here and watch it."

"Do what?!" demanded Ignatius, but he couldn't make any moves with Orion's wand and full attention trained directly on him. "Lucretia, do what?! Lucretia!"

But his wife didn't look back as she walked stiffly out of the room and shut the door behind her. Her brother did have the grace to wait until his sister was out of the room before he muttered, "Obliviate. Stupefy."

Ignatius collapsed onto the floor a few feet away from the cooling body of Friedrich Braun.

The four living and conscious occupants of the upstairs drawing room were silent for what could have been half a minute or half an hour.

In this quiet contemplation, Sirius knew that he really ought to feel guilt or remorse or something about what he'd done and what he'd caused, but he found that he simply couldn't muster up any such emotions. He thought briefly about the boy he'd been when he'd walked in on Rabastan practicing the Unforgivable Curses, months and life-changing experiences ago now. Would that Sirius have felt something different?

Right now all he could feel was that it would have been much less messy if he'd just been able to use the Killing Curse, like Rabastan had on that homeless witch. There hadn't been any drawn out death or blood or struggle when she'd died; she'd just toppled over backwards and been dead.

Finally, Arcturus seemed to gather himself sufficiently to return to some semblance of control over the situation. He spoke with the assurance of someone who had been in just this sort of situation before.

"He came to Grimmauld Place and conducted a perfectly normal lesson, and then he left. We have no idea what happened to him after that. He might have been waylaid here in England or back in Germany, or he might have simply never made it back to Germany at all. After all, I told him that he ought to apply for a Portkey or permission to use the Floo internationally, but he insisted on Apparating. Orion, you will dispose of the body. I will implant a false memory in Ignatius's mind corroborating our story and determine whether I ought to do the same to Lucretia."

"Fine," replied his son, "but are you proposing that we simply wait until somebody contacts us and asks?"

Arcturus shot him a disapproving look. "If nobody has reported him missing before when the next lesson was supposed to have been, then I will go through every reasonable means to contact him and, finding myself unable to locate him, will inform the German Ministry that I am worried he is missing."

He strode out of the room without looking at his grandson, Ignatius Prewett's inert body trailing behind him.

Orion crossed the room and knelt down in front of Sirius, who was still sitting calmly on the sofa. Their eyes met and Sirius didn't see disapproval or disappointment there, only fear and a deep determination. His father put his large hand on Sirius's knee and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Nobody will find out about this. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Of course you won't!" cried Walburga. She rested her cheek against her son's hair and squeezed her arms ever tighter around him.

Even a year ago Sirius probably would have killed anyone if it meant his mother would show him such affection, but now he really had killed someone and he wanted no part of her embrace. He sat stiff and immobile in her arms and watched with calculating gray eyes as his father transfigured the body into something small enough that he couldn't tell what it was from this far away.

The Black family tree as we know it says that Pollux was born in 1912 and his younger sister Dorea in 1920. However, that makes no sense, because it would mean that Pollux was only thirteen when his oldest child Walburga was born. Therefore, I've kicked Pollux and Dorea's birthdates back by ten years to be more in line with Arcturus's (1901), so Pollux was born in 1902 and Dorea in 1910. This also means that their father's birthdate has to be pushed back by ten years, but that's totally doable without changing anything else since there is a twelve-year cushion between him and his older brother, and it isn't like they matter for our story here.

"Mal sehen, Herr Braun" translates as something like "We'll see, Mr. Braun."

SEQUEL: This is the last chapter of Book One! You can find the sequel on my profile.