Chapter One: The Man with the Markings

Many days came and went at number four, Privet Drive all in a similar fashion- with nothing peculiar or out of the ordinary happening at all. Though much to the chagrin of a few particular residents, there were some days that were different. To a small boy with cracked glasses, ill-fitting clothes, and a distinctive lightning-bolt scar hiding under black hair on his forehead- those were the days he wished could happen much more often than they did.

Today, Harry Potter knew, was one of those different days. It might have been the most different day of all different days he had ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

For talking garden snakes and floating biscuits were not quite as strange as the tall man who stood in the doorway of his house. Not his house, he reminded himself. The house that belonged to his aunt and uncle and cousin- the Dursleys of number four, Privet Drive.

But thoughts of the wicked words and cruel actions of his dismissive family were pushed aside as Harry tried to make sense of the stranger before him.

The man had bizarre markings climbing up his neck. Strange, black symbols that young Harry swore would move and change every now and again. He wore clothing like eccentric fantasy characters he read about in school. A dark magenta jacket with a fading stripped pattern covered an antiquated button-up shirt. The top few buttons were undone, so when he crouched down to be eye level with Harry it revealed more markings on his chest.

Harry was more curious than scared. He had never seen anyone so peculiar. Why was someone so peculiar at their house? He knew his aunt and uncle did not approve of anything outside of what was supposedly normal. That is why they were mean to him. Harry was not normal. That is also why they would be mean to their visitor. This man was very not normal.

"Harry," the man's voice beckoning him was comforting, betraying the young boy's initial impression of the stranger, "Look how you've grown…"

"You!"

Aunt Petunia's voice lashed through the air like a belt. Harry winced knowing the shrill tone she used was usually reserved for scolding him. His aunt pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him back. Aunt Petunia stepped between him and the surprised looking man.

Harry wanted to know more about him, but he quickly remembered the most important rule of the Dursley's house- don't ask questions.

"Petunia, as terrible as I remember."

There was a funny grin on the man's face as he winked at Harry. It almost made him let out a laugh. But before he could, Aunt Petunia pushed him back again and erupted, "Go to your room!"

There was a brief silence as Harry kept eye contact with the oddly dressed visitor in the doorway. The man raised both his eyebrows and Harry's lips curled up. Then the fierce gaze of his aunt was upon him. Harry knew what was coming next.

"NOW!"

Knowing what usually followed screaming, he darted across the hardwood floor. He nearly fell over as his hands gripped the doorknob of the cupboard. Harry flung the door open and sprawled onto the makeshift bed. His aunt slammed the door behind him. He was safe, for now. The cupboard always meant safety. Being alone was better than being with them. It was quiet for a moment but soon Harry could make out their muffled voices.

"You can't mean to tell me- in a cupboard?"

"It is no business to anyone…"

"It is my business! He is my godson!"

"I want you to leave! Now!"

He made out the sound of shoes on the hardwood floor. He would have to scrub off the scuff marks later. Then a strange popping sound rang out! He jumped back at first but quickly pressed his ear against the wooden cupboard door again.

"Go into the kitchen and sit down. Don't move until I tell you to. Next time I'll make sure the spell lands!"

There were more footsteps, but then silence. Harry pressed his head harder against the door trying not to miss anything. Suddenly, the door swung open! The young boy toppled out. Before he could hit the floor, the strange man caught him in his arms.

"I-I'm sorry!" Harry belted out, avoiding eye contact as he scrambled to his feet.

"Easy," the visitor spoke in quiet tone. His calloused hands gripped Harry's shoulders tightly. It was not like when his uncle grabbed and shook him. It was different. "Harry, you can look at me."

Their eyes met and the man was smiling again. He had eyes like grey, murky puddles. One of his teeth was made of gold. "I'm your godfather. You are safe with me. I promise."

Harry must have looked confused because the man chuckled in response, "Your father… was my best mate. Even more. We were like brothers. Your mother and father made me your godfather. They trusted me to take care of you."

His father! His mother! Harry's heart was stomping in his chest. Could the man's words be true? Did he really know his parents?

The house was silent as the smile faded on the man's lips. "Your aunt and uncle… They have not been taking care of you, have they?"

"I…" Harry started, but he could not put together a sentence. It was too much at once. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt dry. He wanted to ask about his dad, his mum- anything. Don't ask questions. He could feel tears building up. Were they sad tears? Why was he sad all of the sudden?

"It's okay," the man took his hands off his shoulder and stood up fully. He towered over Harry, gazing down from above.

"W-what's your name?" Harry croaked. At school he learned the polite thing to do when meeting someone new was to ask their name. He was supposed to be polite. Right?

The man smiled, "Sirius. Sirius Black. When you were just a baby, you mom and dad said I was your Uncle Sirius."

"Uncle Sirius," Harry repeated. The man tossed his hair. At first, he recoiled at the touch. But then he saw the man smiling and laughing. A grin made its way onto Harry's face as well.

"That's my boy," Sirius spoke proudly. Suddenly, the man was holding a strange stick in his hand. Harry could tell it was not just an ordinary branch. "I suppose your aunt and uncle never told you…"

"Told me what?" Harry asked curiously, still gazing at the stick in Sirius's hand. There was an intricate pattern engraved in it and the color was deep and dark.

"Has anything strange ever happened to you? Or have you made something strange happen? Something you could not explain?"

Harry recalled several moments immediately. He remembered suddenly appearing on the roof of his school after being chased by his cousin and his mean friends. He remembered a biscuit floating across the kitchen and right into his hands when he was particularly hungry. He remembered the bolt lock to his cupboard door opening on its own so he could use the loo late at night when everyone else was asleep.

"Your face says it all," Sirius interrupted his thinking, "Those things happened to you because you're a wizard, Harry. And so am I. And so was your father! And your mother- she was a witch!"

His so-called Uncle Sirius held up his stick. He spoke strange words. Then suddenly, a spectral blue dog sprang to life. A trail of blue mist followed as the shaggy dog ran circles around Harry. He was scared at first. Then suddenly his mind came up with only a single explanation. Magic!

As the dog faded, so did Harry's smile. The vile words of his family deflated the amazing realization. He crossed his arms and made himself small. His uncle and aunt would not stand for this. Dudley would be even crueler now that his words were actually true.

"My cousin says I'm a freak."

Suddenly, Harry was scooped off his feet. Sirius held him close as he made his way to the door. Aunt Petunia was screaming something from the kitchen, but Harry could only hear the man whisper to him, "You are a wizard. Magic is in your blood. You are not a freak. You are special. Your parents loved you, Harry. They trusted me to take care of you. What would you say about coming to live with me?"

"Can I?" Harry could not believe what was happening. The man may have been strange, but if his parents trusted him than he could as well. He smelled of oak and mint. His jacket was soft in Harry's hands as he gripped it tight. He felt safe, even more so than hiding in the cupboard. Could he live somewhere else? If he could live with his nasty Uncle Vernon, why not with his nice Uncle Sirius?

"Do you need anything before we leave? I promise you; you'll never have to come back here again."

Harry thought about a few drawings he made in the cupboard and some of Dudley's old clothes that never fit right. None of them seemed important right now. He pushed up his glasses and shook his head.

Uncle Sirius swung the front door open and the early winter air greeted Harry. Aunt Petunia was in the doorway now, still screaming at them. Harry was not scared of her yelling in that moment. In the driveway was a motorbike. Harry soon found himself buckled snuggly into the side car. Sirius draped his jacket over Harry and the roar of the engine drowned out the screeching of his aunt out entirely.

"Ready, Harry?"

The boy nodded so hard that his neck hurt. He was admittedly a bit scared. Not just of the bike, but of leaving the only house he had ever known. He felt gentle fingers brush aside his hair and graze over his scar. It was his favorite part about himself. He felt a warm sensation in his stomach when Sirius leaned down and planted a kiss against the lightning bolt.

"Don't look back, Harry. You're safe now."

The engine rumbled and soon they were far above number four, Privet Drive. Harry was screaming with delight. He did not know motorcycles could fly. He wondered if his mum and dad had ridden flying motorcycles as well.

Harry never noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks and he never looked back.

o - o - o - o - o

"UNCLE SIRIUS!"

A screeching boy sprinted across the sitting room of the Hulhome. For almost two years, Sirius and Harry had lived happily in the country-side cabin. But moments like this were always a welcomed break from the peace and quiet.

Sirius watched as two dark green Gaelish pixies pulled at his godson's hair while he stammered around the sitting room swatting at them. There was a lesson here. Sirius decided to let the education sink in just a bit longer.

Was that the right choice? The pixies could pull out some hair. That was surely hurt. How long would James have let this go on for? He couldn't help but laugh at the scene. James would have loved to see this. Lily might not have let it play out at all.

"It's not funny!" Harry yelled as he managed to throw one of them off him and onto the cushions of their couch. Sirius stopped thinking and he drew his wand from its holster.

"Immobulus!"

The pixie froze in midair before it could reach Harry again. The other pixie quickly caught onto the situation. It flew out an open window and let out a devilish cackle as it left. Sirius lifted the freezing charm from the other and it soon followed its accomplice. Harry was fixing his hair and glaring over at Sirius.

"That's why I need a wand!"

Sirius let out a booming laugh and soon Harry was laughing as well. "I keep telling you to stay away from the pixie nests. You know they don't like snooping children thrashing about their part of the forest."

"Well in twenty-six days those pixies will have to think twice about messing with me or a freezing charm is going to come their way. I was just taking a short cut to see the fairies. It's not like I was going after them!"

It was beef stew for dinner that night. Harky, their house-hob, made it so well that they were both happy to have it once a week. Harry loved the house-hob dearly. Harky seemed a bit overwhelmed when Harry asked him to play, but he always did as he was asked.

Sirius had never been warm to the creatures. Hobs were house workers. Their magic perfectly suited for chores and taking care of children. Their large, floppy ears and wrinkled skin disgusted Sirius as a child. But maybe that was because Kreacher, the hob who worked for the Black family, was nothing but cruel to Sirius during his childhood. Years later, thanks to Harry, looking at Harky no longer gave him those feelings.

Sirius had only hired the hob because his own cooking had a good chance to make Harry sick. Hiring the hob was necessary to help Harry, but his godson's affection for Harky slowly withered away his ingrained distain for hobs as a whole.

Sirius still hated Kreacher, though. He hoped he never had to see that devilish hob ever again.

Harry went up to sleep and the full moon had come out over the woods of southern Ireland. They lived in a quaint cabin just outside of the small wizarding village of Kenmare. Far away from the turmoil of the Ministry of Magic or the prying eyes of Diagon Alley.

The Hulhome was at the smallest of his three inherited properties. Grimmauld Place was decaying and decrepit, no place to raise a young boy. Sirius refused to go back there. The other was an apartment building in Diagon Alley with goblins from Gringotts still filling the place with eager renters. Too many unknown faces there. He could not risk raising Harry near anyone he could not trust.

Last on the list was the Hulhome. It was perfect place for Harry. Sirius knew it each time he saw his godson's excited grin as he encountered some new enchanted object in the cottage or witnessed his amazement at the discovery of a new magical creature in the forests around the property.

Later that night, Sirius traced his fingers over the ink of a week-old letter. His heart was conflicted over the contents and what his response would be. He jolted up when he heard the sound of his door.

"Sorry, Uncle Sirius."

Harry stroot across the room and Sirius brought him to his lap. "What's wrong? Those pixies at your window again?" They laughed together, but Sirius found his thoughts still stuck on the letter.

"Can't sleep. Not tired."

"Harry," Sirius started, "If you had a friend who broke a promise, would you forgive them?"

He watched his godson think for a moment. While Harry had his father's courage, he had his mother's compassion. Sirius wondered how he had learned it. The Muggles certainly did not teach him it. Perhaps some things were passed down like that- not needing to be learned.

Sirius thought of the vile things that must have been passed down to him. If Harry's mother passed her compassion onto him, what evils tickled down from the infamous Walburga Black? The thought that a piece of his sinister mother was still alive in this world within him- he did not want to think of that now.

"Well, everyone makes mistakes. Right? What promise did your friend break?"

"He… promised to protect someone I love. I don't think he did a particularly good job of it."

The room was silent. Harry tilted his head back and forth. Sirius felt a bit silly having to ask his godson for advice. In truth, there were not many others Sirius could turn to. Andromedea and Ted visited a few times a month. They both had told him the same thing. Even his teenage Nymphadora had told him to stop being so stubborn. Augusta Longbottom scolded him for being dramatic and to just make amends already.

"Have you ever broken a promise?"

Sirius thought about his promise to protect Harry. That's what being a godfather was. A promise.

That terrible night, he sought revenge and left Harry with Hagrid. He had told his godson only a few details about what had happened on the night his parents had been murdered. He knew one day before Harry went off to Hogwarts he would have to speak the whole truth of it.

"I was supposed to protect you," Sirius had his arms around the boy, "I chose revenge instead. Look where it got me." They started at each other for a moment. "Look where it got us. I nearly ruined both our lives."

"I forgive you," Harry responded confidently. He jumped off his lap and stood in the doorway, "Can Harky bring me some treacle tart?"

Sirius put the letter down and picked up a quill as he looked over at Harry with a faint smile, "A small piece. Then off to bed with you. Neville and his grandmother are coming over tomorrow first thing in the morning."

Harry cheered as he darted downstairs screaming for Harky. Sirius looked down at the blank parchment and thought for a moment. If Harry could show forgiveness just like that, then he could as well. His hand moved on its own as he began writing.

Dear Remus…

o - o - o - o - o

Sirius stared at a dwarf with a large red beard hauling a cart filled with shining jewels. Then his attention was caught by a group of half-giants who carried planks of wood which glowed a strange blue color. Next a group of hooded wizards wearing ridiculous yellow robes blocked his view. They each held a single candle gripped with both hands.

James had told him all about the great halls of the Bavarian dwarfs but seeing it in person was another thing entirely.

The chambers in the mountains were so high that the ceiling was obscured by shadows. Massive pillars with intricate dwarven runes engraved into them seemed to hold up the world beneath the alps. Troll-sized kilns held flames of all colors. Their light illuminated the halls well enough to make out faces in the market's crowd.

It all made him at bit dizzy. The noise, the people, the smell of smoke in the air, the dark shadows above. He held Harry's hand tightly, paranoia squeezing his grip.

"Pay attention!" Sirius snapped as he pointed at a group of slender elves with glimmering robes as he maneuvered Harry out of the way.

After Remus led them down various cramped hallways which spread out from the main hall like branches on a great tree, they came across a wooden door. A crooked sign hung above with something written in dwarvish.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Sirius asked Remus. His friend had a hand on his chin as he stared at the sign above, back down to the directions, then back to the sign again. It had only been a few years, but Remus looked even worse than Sirius did. His clothes were ill-fitting and tattered, his patchy beard unkept. Worn out wrinkles and bags under his eyes had aged his friend's appearance.

A smile appeared on Remus's face. He looked younger, if only for a moment. "This is the place," he told Sirius and Harry, his voice echoing down the ancient tunnel.

Harry threw up his hands in excitement, "I'm getting a wand!"

"Why did James come all the way to bloody Germany to get a wand?" Sirius complained as he crossed his arms. Exposing Harry to a large crowd kept him on edge. Being this far from home meant getting to safety wasn't as easy as Apparating away. "I got my wand at Ollivanders, like everyone else."

"It was a Potter family tradition," Remus gave an annoyed look and pointed a finger before a smile covered it up as he tuned to Harry.

"We both remember your father telling us your family got their wands from the dwarfs here. We found the records in your Gringotts vault. Your father, uncle, and grandfather all got their wands from this exact shop."

"Dumir's Wands and Staves!"

Remus smiled and he kneeled down to be at eye level with his godson. Sirius had to admit, he was very good with Harry. So much so that it annoyed him. Sirius was the one who had rescued Harry, but Remus was often the one Harry listened and responded to.

"Very good. You remembered," Remus was speaking gently, "Since your family got their wands from the dwarves here, we thought you should as well. I know you might be a little dizzy from the Portkey, but are you ready to-"

"Yes!" Harry shrieked with excitement. He squeezed between Sirius and Remus and pushed open the wooden door.

The chamber was large and in the stone walls were thousands of perfectly rectangular compartments with wands resting within. In the center of the room was a large green flame which illuminated the shelves filled with all sorts of wood, jewels, and materials used for wand-making.

Sirius took a step forward but felt a hand on his shoulder. "He's getting a wand," Remus reminded him, "He's going to have to do it alone. Just like we did."

He looked up and watched a grey-bearded dwarf greet Harry happily. Then he turned to Sirius and made eye contact for a moment. The dwarf gave a stern nod, and Sirius reluctantly nodded back. The wooden doors creaked as they shut, leaving Harry alone. Sirius always hated when he had to do that.

"You are going to have to get used to letting him do things on his own. Have you picked out one of the prep schools I sent you yet?"

Sirius glanced over to his friend, trying to ignore his first statement, "I was thinking of homeschooling him until it's time for Hogwarts."

Remus had that look on his face. The one that meant he was about to try and correct whatever wrong thought Sirius was having. "He needs to be among children his own age."

"He also needs to be alive, Remus."

The halls of Bavarian dwarfs were quiet, the bustling of the crowd only a tiny noise in the distance. Remus let out a sigh, "I know that. I do. But it isn't fair to Harry."

"Obviously it's not fair. You think anything about Harry's situation, our situation-"

"Stop," Remus cut him off, "I know. Still, children learn better in an environment with peers their own age. That's a fact. What about Neville?"

Sirius thought of the chubby boy. He was Frank and Alice's child, but timid and shy. Yet he was Harry's only friend. "He'll hold Harry back," the words felt sour leaving his lips.

"Do you know why James was always a better dueler than you?"

Sirius laughed. "James? Better than me?"

Remus raised an eyebrow and it only made Sirius laugh more. This conversation had been had hundreds of times and it always played out the same. "Okay, then," Sirius crossed his arms and tilted his head, "Enlighten me."

"When James and Peter-"

"Don't say his name."

Sirius's mode suddenly shifted. The name was like poison in the air. "Look," Remus broke the silence, "Whatever he is now… He was still Peter back then."

No. Sirius rejected that. But he did not have the energy to fight over another thing with Remus. He grunted and shook his head. Remus looked at the ground but continued to speak as if the interruption had never happened.

"Wormtail needed help in his dueling lessons. He always asked James because he looked up to him. They would spend hours in the Room of Requirement. You never joined. You said it was boring. Do you know what they were doing?"

Sirius shrugged, "Studying? Practicing?"

"While you were busy getting cozy with your witch of the week, James practiced with Wormtail. If Wormtail was practicing wand movements or a particular spell, James did as well. He must have casted thousands of shielding charms during the advanced shielding lessons during our sixth year. Wormtail never got it right and gave up, but James was still there casting shield after shield after shield."

There was another silence, but Remus filled it quickly, "Do you remember the battle at Falmouth?"

His memory of that night was hazy. Even so, he knew exactly the moment Remus was about to bring up. "We were dead," Sirius recalled, "You were stunned. My casting arm was bleeding like a stuck nogtail. We were cornered. That exploding curse would have killed us."

"But James had casted a thousand shields before that battle. That spell was ingrained in him. He had no wand then; he didn't even speak the words."

Sirius remembered. He remembered too well. James stood between them and certain death. Debris, flames, and smoke exploded around them. But they lived. James had stood and without a wand or words- he conjured the strongest shield Sirius had even seen.

James Potter had blocked an exploding curse from Abraxas Malfoy. He may not have been the Dark Lord, but he was a close second.

"Some people say teaching is the best way to learn. It certainly helped James."

There was truth in it. Sirius wanted Harry to learn like James did, to be as strong as his father was. "So, I'll ask Augusta if Neville can be schooled with Harry."

"Who will teach them?" Remus asked as they made eye contact.

For as smart as Remus was, sometimes he missed the obvious. Sirius tried his best not to give it away, "I've already found someone. A talented teacher."

"Really? Well, we should make sure…"

"It's you," Sirius mocked as he let out a howling laugh, "Who else could it possibly be? You and Lily spent your last two years in that bloody awful teaching apprenticeship. She had the patience of saint and yet even she said you were better suited for the role than she was."

His friend was looking away from him. Remus never made eye contact when receiving praise. "Don't worry," Sirius knew just what to say as he spoke, "I've already brought it up to my cousin. She'll help with Potions and good ol' Ted will help with Muggle Studies."

"I'm honored," Remus stuttered, "But I can't possibly-"

"Yes, you can. If you are going to pity yourself, then don't do it for you. Do it for Harry."

It took a bit more convincing, but Sirius finally managed to get Remus to agree. He even was able to get him to accept payment. The rags his friend wore were an indication he desperately needed the money.

"And don't you worry," Sirius added in, "I'll take care of his flying lessons."

"Have you thought about one of the youth leagues? I know what your said about-"

"No," the thought of not being able to give Harry that experience pained him as he spoke, "Too recognizable. I can't take him."

"You might be. Tattoos and all. But Harry? He's just another black-haired boy."

"What are you saying?" Sirius felt his heart sink.

"I'll take him," Remus responded firmly. "You can teach him everything he needs to know. We'll Floo to a town somewhere faraway enough to cover our trails."

"No. Absolutely not."

Harry being discovered was the last thing Sirius could risk. They managed to live safely in the comfort of the Hulhome and they were both happy, weren't they? He sighed. He knew that was not enough. His godson, the son of his best mate, deserved more.

"I know exactly what you're thinking. You were right, prep school might be too much of a risk. But a Quidditch league on the weekends? He needs to be around kids his age, Sirius. It's important."

"How can I make sure nobody will discover who he is?" He knew his paranoia only grew fiercer each day spent with Harry. But it was justified. Sirius read the reports. Even after all this time, Death Eaters were still eluding capture. They were out there. Waiting. Worse than that, deep down Sirius knew…

"You can't," Remus interrupted his spiraling thoughts. He looked at his friend again as he spoke, "But we can take precautions. We'll try to glamour his scar. Andromedea can teach us how. I'll pretend to be his uncle and we'll pick a last name. Harry is smart enough to take it seriously. You taught him that."

If he could give Harry some semblance of a normal life, well- he had to try. He owed his godson that much. "Alright," Sirius started to consider the possibility, "But we'll need to…"

The wooden door flung open, but there was nobody there pushing them. Instead, Harry stood with a smug look on his face and his wand in the air. The air current from his wind charm blew back Sirius's hair as they all burst into laughter.

"Your first spell and you decided to push open a door with some wind?"

Harry laughed manically with excitement. He held the wand up between Sirius and Remus. "Actually, my first spell was a fire-making charm."

The old dwarf stepped out of the dark chamber as the wooden doors closed behind them. His skin was wrinkled with a leathery sheen. His braided beard nearly touched the ground. "Wanted to make sure it worked, he did."

"My wand is holly, phoenix-feather core! Mr. Dumir said the feather is from the same phoenix all my family got their wands from! It's just like my dad's!"

Sirius's heart stopped. The dwarf knew. How had he not considered that? Could he really have been so stupid?

He instinctively put a hand on Harry and pulled him close. His other hand slipped into his wand holster. Feeling his wand against his palm, he glanced at the aged dwarf before going any further. He did not have to speak; the dwarf must have taken notice.

"It gladdens me the rumors of Potter boy are false. The Boy-Who-Disappeared, some are calling him now. I was there to provide a wand to his father and uncle. Before them, his grandfather. My time is ending, but another will be named Dumir who will be there to offer his service in wand-making to the Potters that come after."

The dwarf held out his hand and grinned, "I understand the importance of discretion. Take care of the boy. Yes? Now materials and services… three-hundred and fifteen gold pieces."

The dwarf could be trusted, Sirius surmised. Besides, it was not like there was anything Sirius could do about it. Harry was growing up. Soon he'd be in a Quidditch league and, before long, off to Hogwarts. The world would be aware of his existence once again. He couldn't think for a moment. Then took a breath.

One thing at a time.

"Wait," his thoughts caught up to him, "That's almost a hundred galleons!"

The dwarf nodded, "Most unfortunate. The phoenix whose feathers provided the cores for the Potter's wands… it disappeared. The owner claims it was stolen from him. Taken in the night! I know the dwarf. The bird probably got sick of the old, drunken wart!"

The dwarf's laugh shook the ground beneath them, "Lucky we had a few more wands made. That there was the last of them. The price is good."

Remus and Sirius made eye contact in disbelief but then their attention was quickly grabbed by a shrieking elf. The tall elf was leaned over attempting to put out flames that were crawling up the bottom of her robes. Harry was nearby and had a panicked look as flames spewed uncontrollably from the tip of his wand.

Harry Potter now had a wand. Harry Potter could now cast magic. The implications of this became incredibly clear to Sirius in that moment.

Remus jogged down the hall to try and fix the situation. The dwarf came up to Sirius and they stood side by side as Harry attempted to stop his wand from spewing flames.

"You have kept him hidden away. The Death Eaters. They still seek him. Yes?"

Sirius looked down on the dwarf. His family had always treated other magical people like they were beneath them. Just then his paranoia pulled that ingrained hatred out of him, "Don't speak to me like you know anything about it."

The dwarf just grunted, "There are dark wizards in every corner of our world."

Sirius did not reply. Remus had put out the flames on the robes of the tall elf and now was instructing Harry on how to get control of his magic. Harry was struggling with it.

"He has power. That is what they say in the stories. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was slain by that boy. That is the truth. Yes? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead?"

There were many truths Sirius had to learn when he was released from Azkaban and became a free man. But none haunted him so regularly as the truth he learned in Dumbledore's office the day after he was released.

"Before you leave to retrieve Harry," his old headmaster spoke without a twinkle in his eyes, Sirius had gotten used to seeing him that way during the war, "There is something you must know."

He could feel the dwarf's eyes on him as he remembered the words Dumbledore had spoken to him.

"Yeah."

It was a lie. Even if Dumbledore said he could not know for certain- deep down, Sirius knew. That terrible night he had held Harry in one arm. With his free hand, he held the golden, horned mask. The mask that had hid the face of Dark Lord. There was no body. Just a pile of dark robes and that golden mask. He could feel it then.

Despite the stories wizards and witches told, despite what was printed in the papers, despite the terrible darkness Lily had brought upon herself to keep Harry safe…

Sirius knew that Lord Voldemort would return and that one day, he would come for Harry Potter.