I do not own Harry Potter.





Last time:



That evening was the first Hogsmeed trip. Harry bought another huge bag of every flavor beans, and a few things from the joke shop. Jordan, Ginny, and He were about to get a butterbeer when a scream echoed through the air.



_________



Generally, when someone screams, everyone is worried. This scream, however, came from the joke shop. Everyone always went to check to make sure, but it was always just some new product being tested on an unwary customer. You didn't walk into the story unless you didn't mind the chance of being the but of some practical joke. Everyone just continued on their way to get their butterbeer.









Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since that baby had defeated him. Fifteen years that he had pretended to be dead. Fifteen years since he had done anything other than gather an army. Fifteen years since he had sold what little was left of his soul. He was Lord Voldermort's. After fifteen years of waiting, he was ready. Ready to take what he saw as his: The world itself. He had to do a great deal to regain his power. He once was a mere wizard. Now, he had been given great power. He was a sorceror, and a very powerful one at that. He had more than five hundred times the death eaters that he had had a decade and a half earlier, and they were all formally trained. That was his greatest mistake, other than the Potter boy; he had never trained his death eaters.

Now they were trained in both the modern magic, and the ancient black arts. Most of that magic made the unforgivable curses looks like Childs play. They were an army of more than 2 million, with the best leadership. His four generals were the best, and they worked together well. Generals not getting along had been the fall of nations. That would not happen to him. Now all he had to do was set his plan into motion. There were a few in the ministry that didn't believe that he had died, he wanted to make them believe too, just before he proved them all wrong. To do this, he had to sacrifice his servant, Wormtail.





The cell was dark, wet, and cold. The poor man that sat huddled in the corner had been there for almost fifteen years. Fifteen years with dementors as his guards. Dementors suck the hope and happiness right out of you. Not many survived very long in the prison Azkaban. A sentence of more than 5 years was usually a death sentence, or at the least a one way trip to insanity. But he had held on. He had not even been given a trial.

Suddenly, the door to his cell opened. Opened, that had not happened once in fifteen years. He was afraid that it would be dementors, that maybe he had finally been given a trial only to have his sentence changed to death by Dementor's kiss, a process that removed your soul from your body. Instead, a man walked in.

"Mr. Black. My name is Mr. Jones. Would you please come with me?"

"Am I- am I finally getting a trial?"

"No, Peter Petegrew turned himself in yesterday. You are being set free. Good timing for you, Fudge probably would have thrown him in here and not released you. The new minister, Arthur Weasley, pardoned you on the spot and is giving the Petegrew a trial. Just to be legal. Fudge is also being put on trial to see how many he put in this prison unjustly."

Sirrus Black got up out of the corner.

"Now, please come with me. I presume that you would like to clean up before you meet the minister"

"Yes, thank you. Um, no one would tell me anything. Harry disappeared right before I was captured. Did they ever find him?"

"No, he came back from where ever on his own, a few months ago."

"What, my godson was gone for fifteen years, then suddenly re-appeared?"

"Yes. Minister Weasley said that you probably would like to go meet Harry after your meeting with the minister."

By then they had completed the short walk to the fireplace. Flu powder was the only way in or out of Azkaban, aside from an extremely hard to get to door. It was guarded by hundreds of spells and curses, and it opened out into the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea.

The Jones through a pinch of flu powder into the fire and told Sirrus to say Gate. A moment after Sirrus stepped out so did Jones. He explained.

"The fire places in Azkaban are only connected to each other. The fireplace on the opposite side of the room is the one that is connected to the ministry, and only the ministry."

After another flu trip, a long walk through the ministry, two baths and three showers, a hair cut, a good meal including chocolate, and an inspection by a doctor (who made him drink four potions and used over 30 charms on him), he was finally ready to meet Mr. Weasley, the new minister of magic.



"Mr. Black, it is good to meet you. I don't know how to express my sorrow for how you have been treated."

"Thank you. I accept your apologies. Although my Gringot's vault key and my motorcycle back you be nice."

"As for the key, most certainly. You have been given interest, as well as ten thousand Galons. As for your bike, I am not sure about what happened to it, but I will do what I can to find out. You might want to ask Hagrid, I believe Professor Dumbledore said that he used it to deliver Harry to his aunt and uncle's home."

"Speaking of my godson, I hear that he returned only a few months ago."

"Yes, he is attending Hogwarts, however, he teachers report that he is so far ahead in almost every subject that they want to graduate him. He keeps refusing it though. He apparently has, in his free time, been challenging muggle academics in addition. His Muggle Studies professor said that he could fit in to any High school senior class, academically at least."

"Keeping close tabs on him?" Sirrus asked.

"No, that is what my only daughter, the youngest of my seven children told me. They are going out, apparently."

"Did they meet at Hogwarts?"

"Um, no, when Harry returned, he did so by apperating into Diagon Alley. He asked her for directions to Gringots. Then they met again on the express, and they are in the same house."

"Gryffindore?"

"Most certainly."

"Um, would it be possible . . ."

"I can make arrangements for you too to meet. Oh, here is your vault key, and the key to your parent's estate. You were told that they had been killed?"

"Yes. It was the one time that anyone had said even a word to me at Azkaban."

"Well, once again, terribly sorry."

"Thank you. Oh, and while I'm at it, where do I register as an animage? I'd rather not take the chance of . . ."

"You were registered after Peter's confession."

"Thank you."

With that Sirrus apperated away.



No sooner had he arrived at his estate, still maintained by the house elves, and then a letter came for him. What surprised him was that it came not with an owl, but a red and gold phoenix.



Sirrus,

I am so happy that the rat finally turned himself in. I tried to get Fudge to give you a trial, but the idiot refused. I just wanted to say welcome back to the world, and I can't wait to meet you.

Your Godson,

Harry Potter.





Harry had sent him a letter. A letter with a phoenix. He didn't even know how to respond. Finally he scribbled a thank you and said that he also couldn't wait to meet Harry. But how did Harry know that Sirrus was his godfather.





Nearly a week later, Sirrus was finally going to meet Harry. He was talking with professor Dumbledore in his office, waiting for Harry to arrive. Finally, at exactly noon, Harry arrived at the top of the stair.

"Sirrus!" Harry yelled, rushed over, and hugged his godfather.

"Harry I . . . you remember me?"

"Ya, you used to change into a dog and I would ride around on you."

"You were an infant, how do you?"

"Good memory."

"Ok"

"So I hear you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes, she is a fifth year. Ginny Weasley. We met before school, but were just friends until I asked her to the Halloween Ball."

Harry and Sirrus talked for hours.



Dumbledore, who had left his office early on in the conversation, suddenly came rushing in. His face was pale and he was out of breath. Both Harry and Sirrus looked at him.

Still gasping for air he said only four words. Those four words changed the life of every wizard on the planet forever.

"Hogsmeed . . . destroyed . . . Dark Mark."



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