Five ~ Operation Ivy

The large black dog watched through yellow eyes that darted right to left quickly, listening intently with perked ears. He waited on his haunches for the old woman. But no human: Wizard nor Muggle, had happened by in what seemed like hours. He was thirsty. It must be after six p.m., he reasoned, and the salty-metallic taste of the Muggle's blood still lingering in his mouth, served only to intensify his need for refreshment.

This shaggy coat was not helping much either, he mused. He decided that a few minutes in his human form might be more comfortable, and if he stayed low, the chances of being discovered were remote...

"Ahh, that's better..." He muttered, walking out of the alley with his cloak draped over his arm, wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt. "Dammit!" He swore.

With a glance at his wrist watch, he discovered that he had had been correct in his assumption of the time: it read six-eleven p.m. They had one-hour and eight minutes to get the girl, and get out. It would be cutting a very fine line indeed.

So where was she? He was not going to take any chances. Though he had grown very fond of her in the past two months, and was worried about the old woman (she had NEVER been late before), this was bigger than she and he. It was time for action, even if he must walk the streets and find a Muggle to point him in the right direction.

"Mister, don't look around, don't move, and don't yell..." Said a voice, resembling a chain saw badly in need of a tune.

A man had walked up behind him and pressed, he assumed, a small pistol angrily into his spine. With the slightest of movement, he painstakingly withdrew his wand, standing stock still.

"Aint no wallet back here, so bring bring it out real slow like, drop it, and walk on. If you turn around, I will shoot you in the face, understood?" Said the man behind him.

"Before I answer your question, Muggle," Said the man, with a bark like laugh, "you must first answer mine... Are you sure that this is what you wish to do?"

"Mister, I aint in the fuckin mood. I don't see no wallet back here, so I'm guessin it's in that jacket you got. Just drop the fuckin wallet, alright? You got till the count of three..."

"Very well..." Said the man in black, heaving a great sigh, and shrugging nonchalantly. "Have it your way... I do not own a wallet, so you'll just have to kill me, I guess. But I really must ask...Won't you be needing these?" He finished by brandishing eight gleaming Remington .32 automatic hollow point center fire pistol cartridges.

"What the hell?" Whispered the other in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"When will you Muggles ever learn?" Said the man in black, now turning to face his assailant that had turned to bolt. "Things ARE NOT always as they seem..." He finished in a growl.

"STUPEFY!" Belowed the wizard, pointing his wand at the center of the thief's back, where the jet of red light struck home, dropping the man, while his empty pistol clattered away harmlessly.

Strolling casually to the spot where he lay, and rolling the attacker onto his back, the black clad wizard drew a sharp breath of surprise. He had expected to see a man, not this boy. He could not have been a day over thirteen, reasoned the black clad wizard.

The boy was filthy, malnourished, and looked as if he had already lived a very hard life...

He was keen to know how a boy so young could possibly be so very destitute. Upon closer inspection though, track marks were peppered in abundance on both of his arms, his teeth were rotting out of his head, and the dark circles under his eyes gave him the appearance of a near-cadaver; making homelessness one of the least worrisome aspects of all...

'ENERVATE' Said the wizard, training his wand on the unconscious boy.

"What happened?" Asked the boy groggily, then turning fearful eyes on the black robed man, and quickly searching for an avenue of escape. "How did you do all of that shit?"

"That is not important, young man..." Said the other softly. "However, it IS important that you tell me where your home is... Why is a youngster, such as yourself, roaming the streets like this?"

"I'm not going back there mister!" He exclaimed, attempting to stand.

He was unsuccessful in doing so, since the black robed man had bound his hands and feet with a quick snap of his wand. With eyes wide, he settled back to the pavement.

"That's better..." Drawled the wizard impatiently. "I do not have much time lad, and you're making this much more difficult than it has to be. Answer my question, and I'll see to it you are on your merry way. I can get the answer, one way or another, Muggle boy... Which way shall it be, eh?"

"I don't have any parents mister. Been dead two years now. And I don't give a rat's ass what you do to me, I aint goin back to that 'home' them social worker folks put me in... No fucking way no ace! And what is that you keep calling me? Muggle, is it?" The young man asked, keenly eyeing the wooden wand thing that this dude so easily made, for lack of a better word, magic with...

"Well, it sounds like your mouth could use with a good tidying, but nevertheless, you have answered my questions." Said the wizard, settling onto to the streets curb, and fixing the other with a piercing stare. "What I am about to do, is not allowed. I am breaking a decree that might have me cast back into the very place I was pardoned from only weeks ago...

"First things first, though..." said the wizard, offering a long fingered hand to shake. "What is your name?"

"Roland, sir... Roland Kroniger..." He said, grasping the larger hand firmly. "And your's?" He asked.

"Sirius Black, Master Kroniger: Escaped wizard, convicted of killing thirteen people with a single curse, sentenced to a life term in Azkaban..." Said Sirius, his lips curving into a grin.

"Now..." Said Sirius, getting to his feet. "I have a job to do, and I could use your assistance..."

"Ok, since I'm not number fourteen," Said Roland, climbing to his feet, as his face split into a boyish grin under old blue eyes, and greasy brown hair, "I guess I owe ya one... You didn't really kill all those folks did ya?"

"Well, the entire world of wizard, save for precious few, seems to think so. You are just going to have to trust me young man, are you not? To show my good faith, here is your, what is that Muggle wand thing called?" Asked Sirius, running a hand through his long black hair, and pointing at the gun some thirty feet away.

"What are you talkin about?" Roland asked, following Sirius' long finger. "Oh, you mean the gun?" Turning his palms up and shrugging.

"ACCIO-GUN" Sirius said, catching it. "Here..." He said, handing it and the shells to the boy. "You might be needing this."

"This is too much!" Said Roland, adopting an expression of boyish wonderment, that one might see when their son opens his favorite present on Christmas Morning. "Where did you learn to do this shit?"

"It's a long story, and I daresay in the coming weeks and months there will be plenty of time to tell it. I'll start the tale after you direct us to Tucson General Hospital, on Campbell Avenue. On one condition..."

"Alright, I'll play along." Said Roland, still grinning as he loaded the automatic. "What's the condition?"

"That you start talking more like a boy, and not a Turkish Sailor, ok?"

"Fair enough..." Roland replied wryly. "But I really gotta ask... What exactly ARE you? And what's with that fu- that accent? What are you, from England or somethin?"

"All in due time." Sirius replied, with a slight bow. "Now, I must change into something a bit more comfortable. If we get too close, I will be seen, and believe me, we DO NOT want that..."

"I'll take your word for it..." Roland replied, with a shrug and sardonic grin.

Howevever, when Sirius the man took on his Animagus form of the large black dog, Roland very nearly lost consciousness...