Author's Note:  Will you look at that, an update!  Will wonders never cease!  I've taken up the Fifth Book Challenge at the Sugar Quill and officially pledged to finish this monster by June 21st, 2003.  Currently crossing all crossable appendages that I'll be able to keep to that deadline.  I have got the entirety of the final chapter written out already, I just have to get there from here!

I must thank my faithful readers, if there still are any, for sticking with me.  I was basically completely offline from May 2002 to mid-January 2003, as well as suffering a momentous case of writer's block.  Hoping that this signals an end to that problem at least, the internet access already being solved.  Enjoy, review, and come back soon!

Disclaimer:  See all previous chapters.

Chapter Eleven:  In Which We Play With Time…

Three and a half months later…

The large black dog came to a loping halt outside the large rather isolated old house.  Sitting back on his haunches, he studied the edifice, looking for any signs of life within.  To a Muggle passing by, there would be none.  Even a wizard would have to pay careful attention to notice the telltale marks of old and powerful wards still surrounding the residence.  The dog just followed his nose, well used to the place.

He trotted around to the back of the house, entering a large walled garden through a swinging metal gate.  Past an old garden shed, he came upon the half broken doors that led down into the house's cellar.  He paused for a moment before entering and, as a biting wind cut through the night, that passing Muggle might assume that the shaggy stray was contemplating some shelter out of the bitter night air.

He would have been surprised at the relative cleanliness of the cellar, once the black beast stepped over the tingling threshold and down the dark stairs.  He would have be astonished when, once t he animal had cross the dark cellar and ascended the stairs to an interior door located there, the great dog shimmered and seemed to stretch upwards, eventually settling into the shape of a tall dark haired man.

Gaunt form rough living following years of mental abuse, which still reflected out of his pale quicksilver eyes, the man leaned briefly against the doorjamb—both his journey and his news weighing heavily upon him.  After a moment he shook himself, almost like the dog he has so recently been, and knocked softly on the heavy door.

Footsteps sounded on the other side almost immediately and the smell of a wood fueled fire and freshly cooking meat assailed his nostrils as the door opened and a man with gray flecked hair pulled him into the warmth and light of the house with a rough hug and a glad cry of "Sirius!".  He found himself being led down the familiar hall towards the kitchen before he had a chance to reply to his friend's chatter.

"You look worn out, old friend, and full of news."  Well, Remus had always been perceptive.  "But, some sustenance first, I think, as your skin looks quite ready to fall right off your bones if it does not get some sort of substance to hold it up!"  Yes, definitely perceptive.  Sirius gratefully dug into the proffered offering of what was obviously a late dinner as his amused host set about fixing himself another helping.

The hypothetical passing Muggle, already astonished by the dog's transformation, would have been truly amazed by the interior of the seemingly rundown and abandoned dwelling.  True, all the furnishings were old and many were worn with the passing of the years and much use, but all were obviously well looked after by a loving and careful hand.  There was light and warmth and an ineffable "lived in" feeling about the place that had soothed many a weary soul over the years.

Sirius settled into the familiar and much loved comfort of the Lupin family kitchen, almost expecting Justina Lupin to come bustling in from the pantry or old Valerius to wander in, completely absorbed in some incomprehensible ancient text, absently searching for a snack.  It caused a pang when he recalled that both these dear folk had died while he was imprisoned, leaving Remus well and truly alone in the world.

Once his initial hunger was satisfied, Sirius cleared his throat.  Remus looked up from his own meal expectantly.

"News and food can go together," Sirius began, reaching for a mug of hot tea.  "This is too important to delay any longer."

Catching the gravity in his old friend's voice, Remus leaned forward intently.

"Is Harry alright?"

"He's safe for the moment."

"What is it, Padfoot?"

"He's come back."

***

Between bites of omelet, sausage, and toast, Sirius relayed the events that had come to light in the past twenty-four hours—everything Harry had told Dumbledore of the incident in the graveyard, what Albus had related later on about and from Barty Crouch Jr., the confrontation between the Headmaster and the Minister of Magic, his own confrontation with Snape, and finally Dumbledore's instructions for the two of them.

"I hated leaving Harry," he finished.  "But this was just too important.  Dumbledore will keep him safe, if anyone can.  I have to believe that."  Wearily, he leaned his head upon his hand, resting his elbow on the table.

"Cedric Diggory," whispered Remus, half disbelieving, lost in the events that had just been unfolded before him.

Sirius looked up startled, then in comprehension.

"You taught the lad, didn't you?"

"Yes, an intelligent and diligent young man, a true Hufflepuff."  He smiled briefly.  "He would have made a good and decent member of society once he left school."

Both men were silent for a long moment, each mourning, in his own way, that loss of a young man taken too early from this life.  One mourned for the boy he had taught, the other for the potential cut off too soon, and for a boy with whom he would never now have the opportunity to acquaint himself.

Remus was the first to break the sad reverie.  Standing abruptly, he began to put away the dinner things.  Casting a scouring charm over the sink, he looked at Sirius.

"I should get moving, it's going to take awhile to track everyone down."

He paused, looking intently at Sirius.  Then he smiled.

"That blue porcelain cat on the mantle is a portkey."  He gestured towards a small statue of a sleeping feline residing on the left hand side of the fireplace.  "It will take you directly to Sosia's backdoor…. She needs to hear all this as well, and she's one member of the old crowd that I can send you to collect!"