I hope everyone is staying safe during this time. I hope this magical quarantine can be a bit of a distraction. :) I truly have the best readers, you guys are amazing.

Sirius woke up, and for a few moments he wondered if he had truly woken up on the other side. Everything about his surroundings felt so foreign – from the soft clothes on his body to the soft bed he lay in. He couldn't remember the last time he lay in an actual bed and not a straw-stuffed pallet strewn on a prison floor – and even that had been better than where he had slept since he had went on the run. He blinked his eyes open, the light felt filtered and odd – and then he realized that he was indoors, and the light was coming through a glass window. When was the last time he was inside a room with a glass window?

Looking carefully around the room, he saw the rafters and the stones and had the unmistakable feeling that he was in Hogwarts. No other place really felt the same, and it was logical given that he had taken the tunnel to try and get some of the food laid out for magical creatures there. But what had happened? He remembered taking the tunnel from the Shrieking Shack, happy at finding it still open, and then easily sniffing out the food left out for creatures. When he had heard people talking in the town about the food left out he had been ecstatic – pickings had been pretty lean since the posted announcement about poisoning trash had went out. He had caught a few rabbits, but they were so lean this time of year they had done little to satisfy his hunger. He had been thinking of wholesale thievery to prevent starvation, but had been wary of drawing too much attention to himself, so a largesse at Hogwarts had seemed like a Godsend. So what had happened?

Trying to clear his head, he tried to concentrate on the fragments of memory that he could remember. There had been a cat – it had transformed – was it McGonagall? And then he ran – right into an extremely shocked Remus? Desperately he ran, trying to get away – and spellfire, and then nothing. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to focus his memory as he had learned in his years as an auror, and tried to see who else had been there. Yes, in the corner of his eye, he saw a small movement to his left – that had to be Flitwick, nobody else could have been that small but that confident with a wand. And that meant that the flash of spellfire came from the other side – and was probably Dumbledore. It had been a trap.

Realizing it was a trap made his heart beat faster in panic, but he forced himself to calm it. He had come too far to give up and panic now. If they were going to turn him in they would have done it by now, he told himself. Why heal him and put him in a bed just to offer him to a dementor?

The unmistakable chirrup of a house elf surprised him into opening his eyes, and he found himself face to face with one of the creatures, clad in a flowered tea towel, carrying a tray with a bowl and some bread on it.

"I's have food for you," the creature told him.

"Thank you," he told her.

"Madame healer said broth and bread for now," she said firmly in a fussy voice. "She be here soon."

"It looks lovely, thanks," he said gently to the small creature.

A lap table popped up on his bed, and she placed the tray upon it. Sirius saw that the broth was rich and warm, and could hardly wait to taste it. He devoured it, not bothering with a spoon, but picking up the bowl and slurping it greedily. The bread was likewise gulped down, anything to sate the hunger that had gnawed for years.

"Wow, you must be hungry," a teenaged boy said from the other side of the room.

"They don't feed you well in Azkaban, lad," he replied recklessly, leaning back feeling somewhat full, but hoping there would be more, and more substantial stuff. "And even at that, it's been a long time since then."

"The house elves will bring you whatever you want," the boy assured him.

"They might bring you whatever you want," he smirked. "We'll see if that holds true for a murderer."

"Are you a murderer?" the boy asked.

"I'm sure you know who I am," the man said with an eye roll. "Don't you?"

"You're Sirius Black," the boy nodded.

"Then you know all the stories of how I betrayed my friends and murdered muggles," he told the boy. "I'm notorious, I am."

"But knowing the stories and knowing if they're true aren't the same thing," the boy answered.

"Those are wise words for a kid," Sirius laughed. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," Harry answered, his voice suddenly serious. "I'm Harry Potter."

Sirius froze in place, all of his easy confidence gone. "What did you say?"

"I'm Harry Potter," he repeated. "And I want to know if you really are a murderer."

"Harry?" he echoed weakly. "Is that really you?"

"It is," Harry confirmed, watching Sirius carefully. Would the man fly into a murderous rage and want to finish the job he'd started or would there be something else?

"Merlin," the man breathed. "Why did they put me in a room with you?"

"There is a barrier," Harry explained.

"Aren't you scared of me?" Sirius asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Harry told him. "Everyone believes that you're a murderer and responsible for my parents murder. I've been told that you were coming to finish the job with me as well. But then I saw something that made me wonder if what I've been told was correct."

"What did you see?" he asked, incredulous.

"Proof that Peter Pettigrew was still alive."

Sirius leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he said in a voice that bespoke defeat, "There's nothing I can say that would convince you."

"You don't have to convince me," Harry said in a quiet voice. "Just tell me the truth."

"The truth?" Sirius laughed with a hollow ring. "If anybody deserves the truth it's you. I can't believe I'm talking to James' son."

"Did you kill him?"

"The truth isn't simple, it never was," Sirius answered, shaking his head. "In truth, I was responsible for their deaths, Harry, just not like people think. I thought, well, in my arrogance I thought that I was too obvious to choose for the secret keeper. I told them they should make Peter the secret keeper instead, thinking they would be safer. How wrong I was."

"So he betrayed them then."

"He did," Sirius admitted, his voice near tears. "When I found them dead, and you orphaned, I then went to find Peter and make him pay . . . but he was ready for me. He got away in the midst of an explosion – they told me he was dead."

"But if you were innocent then why did you go to prison for all those years?"

"Let me ask you this," Sirius nodded. "Do you have a best mate?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Two of them."

"Now let's say that something you did, something foolish, caused their deaths and left their child orphaned. And the person responsible was dead, too, so there was no revenge to be sought. What would you do?"

"Raise their son," Harry answered, his voice hard.

"Mr. Potter, I believe I warned you about talking to him before I woke," Harry heard Snape's voice interrupt with its menacing smoothness behind him. "Are you disobeying me?"

"Sorry sir," Harry jumped, looking frightened. "I'm sorry. I just had to know . . ."

"You had to know nothing," Snape replied sternly. "What you had to do was to obey. Do you remember what I promised you if you disobeyed me?"

"Snape, is that you?" Sirius blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I am a Hogwarts professor, and have current charge of this miscreant," Snape explained swiftly. "I'm in quarantine because Mr. Potter broke quarantine and exposed me as well."

"You're in charge of Harry?" he asked, a little weak. "Dumbledore approved?"

"And I will kindly ask you not to interfere with his rightful discipline in this behavioral issue," Snape told him curtly. "Now, Mr. Potter, where were we? Oh yes, your punishment . . ."

"Please sir, not again . . ." Harry begged softly.

"What are you going to do to him?" Sirius demanded. "You have no right . . ."

"I have every right," Snape answered him. "If you interfere it will be worse for him. Mr. Potter, assume the position. I assume it is familiar enough by now."

"You bastard!" Sirius exclaimed. "Leave Harry alone!"

"I am armed," Snape warned him. "Cease this emotional demonstration or I shall be forced to place you in a body bind."

"It's okay, Sirius," Harry sniffed a bit in fear. "I've, I've had it before . . ."

Sirius tried to control himself, telling himself that he knew very little of what was actually going on, and that caring about anybody beyond himself had always done little but bring him pain. But as he watched Harry bend over the table, trembling in fear and sniffing, as Snape brought out a long, decidedly unfriendly-looking paddle, he knew he couldn't sit by any longer.

"Stop this at once!" Sirius insisted. "Stop it or I'll stop it for you!"

"And how do you propose to do that?" Snape mocked him, then turned back to Harry. "I think fifteen sufficient, don't you?"

"Please, sir," Harry begged, near tears. "Please don't do it too hard this time. Last time I could barely sit . . ."

"Then you should have thought about that before you disobeyed me!" Snape barked. "Now hold still!"

"You heartless bastard!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing himself against the barrier in rage, hoping to overwhelm the mechanism and be able to punch through. Snape whirled around to face that outcome, and as soon as Sirius had been rendered unconscious he began working at lowering the barrier.

"Thank goodness he went for it before I actually got whacked," Harry told him, pushing himself up from the desk. "I was beginning to worry."

"I told you the paddle was charmed so that it wouldn't have hurt," Snape told him, distracted.

"Still embarrassing," Harry answered, watching in fascination as Snape worked at the intricate spellwork required to lower the barrier.

"And there it goes," Snape said with some relief as the shimmery blue barrier dropped. "You did decently for your first interrogation, I didn't have to step in until it seemed like you were becoming too emotionally unstable."

"Thanks," Harry answered. "But it wasn't my first interrogation."

"Hmm," Snape looked at him speculatively. "With a bit more emotional control you could be useful."

"So what are we looking for?" Harry asked, looking at the inert form of Sirius Black, blushing a bit at the backward praise from the Potions master.

"Well, your interrogation and his defense of you already gives us plenty of good information," Snape told him. "And it is painting a picture of a man that has been falsely accused. Of this crime, at least."

"If he really was the one to betray me and my parents to lead you-know-who to kill me, why would he be trying to protect me from you?" Harry reasoned.

"Precisely," Snape answered.

"Then why did you use the paddle instead of the cane?" Harry asked.

"Anybody might object to caning a boy," Snape reasoned. "It is very severe and could be quite difficult to watch, especially if you've had it yourself; whereas a paddle is a much less severe punishment. If he's willing to object that much to a few swats from a paddle, well, that tells us he's very protective of you."

"So what are you looking for on his body?"

"There's a few things we can ascertain from his body," Snape explained. "Most importantly, the Dark Lord's followers have a tattoo on their forearm, as you overheard from my conversation with Dumbledore. I wasn't able to conclusively rule it out when we watched him being cared for by the house elves, so I wanted to make sure we had a good look."

"Wouldn't we have seen a tattoo?" Harry asked as Snape inspected the man's forearms.

"Not necessarily," Snape answered. "With the Dark Lord so disempowered right now, the tattoo would currently be quite faint."

Harry watched as Snape inspected his arms carefully, and then stepped back, frowning. "There's no tattoo," he announced. "That substantiates his story."

"Wouldn't it be sneakier for Lord Psycho to not mark his followers?" Harry asked. "Seems like a good way to get them caught."

"Also a good way to ensure their loyalty," Snape answered. "He's obsessed with loyalty, and he wants to make sure he can enforce it when necessary. He would not have had a secret informant that didn't take the mark, otherwise he would haven't have trusted their information."

"What does this tattoo do?"

"It's not a standard one, as you've guessed," Snape answered. "But I don't have time to explain everything now. And I also don't see a trace of it."

"Which further confirms his story," Harry nodded. "Do you see anything else?"

"Years of hunger and maltreatment," Snape answered, studying his pallid, bruised skin stretched tight over his bones. "He did not have these scars on him in school, I can only gather he received them in Azkaban."

"How do you think he got them?" Harry asked.

"Looks mostly like fighting," Snape told him. "Defensive wounds on his forearms and hands, scars on his face from being hit. I saw some scars on his legs during his bath that could have come from being kicked while being in a down position."

"Well, I suppose prison is rough," Harry said.

"Even rougher for someone that isn't really a deatheater," Snape observed. "Since Azkaban is full of them. I wish I knew who had beaten him."

Sirius stirred, causing Snape to motion Harry out of the room. He silently reset the barrier, watching the occupant carefully.

"So I need to act all sore and stuff?" Harry whispered. "I mean, to keep up the story that you severely punished me and all."

"I do not have that much confidence in your acting ability," Snape smirked. "Another minute and then follow my lead. Remember, try to get him talking again. He'll be far more quick to trust you than anyone else."

Harry nodded, watching the inert figure of Sirius Black. Sirius moaned and began to blink a little, and Snape nodded as a signal.

"You may have escaped proper punishment this time, Mr. Potter," Snape growled with menace. "But you cannot always depend upon Dumbledore rescuing you in time."

"Yes sir," Harry answered, sounding properly cowed. "I'm sorry sir."

"Now obey me for once and tell me when he has regained the use of his limbs," Snape told him. "Dumbledore has lifted the restriction on talking to him, so you may talk to him, but be careful what you say. Madame Pomfrey wants him to have another bowl of broth before he is questioned by Dumbledore to make sure he has enough strength, I shall need to call the house elves."

"Yes, sir."

"I shall erect a sound barrier around me so I can concentrate on my work without you bothering me, so to get my attention you will need to come over to me and tap my shoulder, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. "I will do as you say."

"See that you do," Snape nodded sharply, and then with a swirl of his robes was gone into the corner of the room.

Why he needed a robe swirl in that small of a room was beyond Harry, but it made Harry smirk a bit. That move used to make Snape seem cold and arrogant now made him seem sort of . . . interesting? Quirky? Harry didn't know the word to use.

Harry then turned back towards Sirius Black, and found the man's grey eyes trained straight on him.