I think that Rabbit's first 3 words sum up everyone's feelings pretty well.  The 'warm and fuzzy' memory I put in there is specifically for A. Dee and anyone else who feels they need a reminder of why they love Sirius so much.  This chapter bounces up and down from dark to explanations to dark again.  Careful, I dish out a lot of info at once in here.

As to some people's questions on the Orcs.  No, they are not intended to be like LOTR Orcs.  I've seen them in other places than LOTR so I don't think I'm infringing on any copywrights.  Hmmm… make a troll 8 feet tall, give it a goblin's wit and bad mood, color it like a goblin, and you'll get the basic idea.  If anyone has MTG cards, think of their goblins and Orcs for an idea of what I'm talking about.

Part 7: I Never Said I Could Walk On Water

The contest of wills was just begun, yet it seemed like it had gone on for an eternity.  Remus watched the argument from Sirius', and now his, favorite overstuffed chair with a look of absolute fascination on his face.  If anyone could put Sirius in his place as well as Rabbit, Remus would ship himself off to Azkaban.  He could usually pride himself on being able to rein in Sirius' free spirit, but it definitely took a stubborn, disagreeable man to put a stubborn, disagreeable man in his place.

"Damn you, Sirius!" Rabbit seethed, his true temper shining through, "You are the most thick-headed, stupidest…"

"Relentless, insane," Remus supplied.

"Thank you.  Relentless, insane…"

"Disagreeable, stubborn…"

"Thank you, Remus!  That's enough!" snapped Sirius.  Moony promptly backed off, half-amused, half-frightened, and all agreeing with the American.

Sirius stared at the Unspeakable with a cool gaze.  But his eyes held the deepest of anger within them.  "You have no right to storm into here demanding that I reopen the case."

"Have you even gone to see the boy since you shipped him off?!  He's dying, Sirius!  You know how it is in there.  He can't last much longer.  You have to do something!"

"I've done all I can.  He murdered those people, why don't you just accept it?" Sirius returned.

"Harry did no such thing.  And if he did, it was because he had no choice in the matter."

"Look at the evidence, Rabbit!  It's obvious!"

"Just as it's obvious that you murdered 13 people with one curse!"

Sirius stood there with his mouth agape for a few moments.  Breathing became more difficult and his heart squeezed in his chest.  His mind rallied against Rabbit's words.  This had nothing to do with what happened before.  The boy was guilty!  But another, smaller, voice taunted him with the words.  What if it was all a mistake?  What if there was something else to it?  Something so obvious that no one would ever delve further into it?

"He is your son, Sirius," Rabbit said more softly.  He knew to back off now that the idea had finally made it into the man's thick skull.  "You owe him everything.  That is your child rotting away in that prison.  I could never live with myself if my little girl was imprisoned and I did nothing.  If I hadn't done everything in my power to learn the truth."

"But where do we start?" asked Remus when it became obvious that Sirius would not answer.  Sirius was currently standing there with his head bowed, a look of anguish on his face.

"With the wand," Rabbit said, holding up some papers.  "Your wandmaker did the reverse spell to find the killing curse.  Look at the other spells that came out in reverse order.  What happened that night?  Rebuild those moments."

"How did you get those?" Remus asked in amazement, "Those are classified!"

He only smiled and held out the papers to him, a glint of brashness in his eyes worthy of a true Marauder.  The werewolf took them with trembling hands.  Why did Rabbit smile that way?  Did he know something that he and Sirius did not?  He looked through the court's transcript anxiously, trying to find a missing piece of the puzzle.  He saw none.

"Look harder," Rabbit urged.  "Imagine that night.  There is only one missing piece in this puzzle that I don't know.  Maybe you can explain it to me."

Mentally groaning at the American's confidence, Remus read the part where Mr. Ollivander cast the reverse spell.

/"Mr. Ollivander, would you please demonstrate this with Harry's wand?"

"Of course."  Mr. Ollivander took the wand.  "Priori Incantatum!"

Lumos.

"Priori Incantatum!"

Alohomora.

"Priori Incantatum!"

A block.

An anti-animagi spell.

Another block.

This time, a Stunner.

Next, the Killing Curse, proved by the three shadows of the Dursleys.

Mr. Ollivander dropped the wand.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.  I have no more questions."/

Still, Remus did not see it.  Rabbit groaned outloud.  "It's right there in front of you, Lupin!  Look!"

Suddenly, Remus looked at the parchment with wide eyes.  His face grew pale and drawn.  "Oh!  But the fingerprints… of course!  How bloody brilliant!  Of course he wouldn't leave any marks!"

"What is it?" asked Sirius in a subdued tone that Remus decided he definitely didn't like.  He drew up behind him, trying to see what had his friend and the American so excited.

"Padfoot, look!"  He thrust the paper in Sirius' hands and quickly moved to the fire.  "I need to see Professor Dumbledore right away!  I need to get a hold of Harry's wand."

Sirius stared after his friend, usually so sober and calm.  Why, now, were their roles so reversed?  What had the werewolf seen in the parchment that no one had noticed throughout the whole trial?

He too looked through the paper, struggling to find anything that would tell him.  A small part of his mind selfishly hoped to God that there was no mistake.  He did not think he could ever live with himself again if he had sent an innocent boy to Azkaban.  After all those harsh words, the tears, the banishment… oh, Harry must hate him now!  Better to let the boy be guilty.  Better that Sirius never had to face those large emerald eyes again.

He looked anyway.  And what he saw there, hidden so innocently within the parchment folds took his breath away and stole whatever remaining self-love he possessed.  There it was, clear as day.  And so obvious that no one would give it a second thought.

"Do you see it now, Snuffles?" asked Rabbit, knowing he did.  "I still don't understand the part about the fingerprints, but the rest makes total sense."

"I can tell you about the fingerprints, Rabbit," Sirius snarled, his sadness boiling into fierce hatred.  "I can tell you all about the bloody fingerprints."

*          *            *

Harry raised his eyes stubbornly to meet those of the large creatures in front of him.  The Orcs had brought him his meal of hard biscuits, an apple, some slices of meat, and some milk.  They had also brought their biting tongues, taunting him like they usually did.  This time, though, he could not just sit there doing nothing.  He could not keep waiting for some miracle to free him; it was time he acted on his own.

"You have to listen to me," he insisted, "I have someone who's trying to reopen the case."

The smaller Orc snuffed his disapproval, "We'uns dona hafta listen ta anathin' yeh say.  Yeh belon' ta us'n."

"I belong to no one," he retorted, piercing their gaze with his own.  "Least of all, you."  He knew he was not supposed to look at them straight on for fear of punishment, but he did not care.  The larger Orc grabbed the back of his prison robes and drew him up to the bars.

"Ida though' yeh knew th' rules b' now, Elfie," the larger of the two Orcs growled, "We dona care if yeh a cub o no.  Th only thin yeh need te know is tha yeh can scream an wail fer all time.  Bu' we dona care.  Th Dementors dona bother us an we dona bother tham.  We doin oura jobs.  An yeh can try te be brave an no cryin' like da Elflin' yeh ar'.  Bu' lemme tell yeh now, Elfie.  Th onla courage yeh need is th courage te lego.  Ita be easia a yeh, methink."

"I can't let go," Harry seethed through the pain in his back.  He choked on the stench of the creature's putrid breath.  "Please, just let me see my father or Remus.  I have to talk to them."  A harsh cuff to the lower back of his head caused stars to dance in front of his eyes.

"Haven ya ben payin attention ta me, Elfie?  We dona care if you'n cub o no.  We dona care if you'n Da' cume o you'n go'da cume.  We dona care if you'n guilt o no.  We dona care ifn you Cub Wh Live o no.  Now dona lemme hear nutha word from yeh, less ita be a scream.  Yeh ar' stron', Elfie.  Bu' no'un's stron' enou'.  Yeh go mad in da end.  Ah promise yeh dat."

Then the gateskeeper dropped Harry next to the humming Bren.  When the Orcs left them to finish their meal rounds, the Death Eater shook his head at the boy.

"Don't let them get to you, kid.  Just be glad that it'll be all over soon."

"Over?  What do you mean?" he asked, gingerly laying on his stomach where his sore back would not come in contact with the thick layer of grime and dirt.  For all the good it did; there was no escaping the foulness of the prison.  If Bren's appearance was anything to go by, he looked like Hell.  There was no part of his body, visible or not, that wasn't covered in grime or a random bruise from a harsh cuff.  The rats, parasites, and cockroaches no longer frightened him and the cries of the mad sounded eerily like the inner musings of his mind.

"Just that, kid.  They'll kill you one day if you get them angry enough and if you don't go mad first.  Even then, you'll either be nuts, dead, or outta this hellhole altogether.  So cherish it, m'lad!" he clapped Harry on the back heartily, knowing full well what had occurred to the boy only moments ago.

Harry hissed in pain, but did nothing else.  Pain was a constant in his life, so why fight it?

"I'll let them kill me then," Harry said calmly.  "Next time, I'll make them so mad they'll have no choice but to kill me."

"Are you serious?" asked Bren unbelievingly.  He knew the boy well enough to know he didn't joke about death.  Harry nodded matter-of-factly.  And why shouldn't he be serious?  What else in life held anything in store for him besides pain and madness?  Sirius had hinted that suicide was a common, but commonly unsuccessful means of escape for the inmates.  Why not become just one of the masses for once?  Why did he have to stick out in a crowd all of the time?  What made him so special?  Just some stupid scar on his head, that's all!

"It shouldn't be too hard," Harry said honestly, "I have a habit of making people angry with me."

"You've lost it, kid," Bren said, laughing nervously, "You're freaking nuts."

"Maybe," the boy agreed, "But not for long."

Bren didn't comment on this, but looked the other direction.  He didn't want anything to do with this boy when he was so far gone that he would kill himself.  He had to hold on just a little longer… surely Master would come for his loyal ones soon.  Master wouldn't just abandon him here with this insane kid… would he?

That night, Harry stayed awake staring at the stars.  Orion was bright in the sky; there was no moon to blot out the celestial blanket.  Bren had started his humming again, refusing to deal in a conversation with Harry now that he had confessed his intentions.

As Orion climbed higher into the sky, the Great Dog followed its master faithfully.  The eye of the dog, the brightest star in all the heavens, bathed Harry in its soft light.  The great star Sirius, the dog star, winked at the young prisoner.  Meteors fell from its center now and then, giving the impression of a weeping dog.  Harry shrugged away his fond memories of the star in case a patrolling dementor was near.  The star was like any other.  A great ball of flame and gas millions of miles away.  Yet, the soft memory came to him like a warm blanket in the cold prison.

Nearly a year ago, just after Sirius' capture that led to his acquittal, he had had precious few moments with Harry.  But one night, when they were alone, Sirius had made another of his useless promises…

/"Do you see that star, Harry?"  Sirius pointed out of the barred window into the night sky.  "The great big one next to Orion's Belt?"

"Yeah, I see it," replied Harry sadly, still upset over the current situation.

"Do you know what it's called?"

"It's Sirius, the Dog Star."

"That's right," Sirius nodded.  "According to astronomers, it's the brightest star in the sky.  My father always said that a kid needed a star to go by, so he gave me one."  Sirius smiled sadly at the memory of his once-loving father.

"But, Sirius, what's that got to do with anything?" asked Harry.

Sirius shrugged, "Just to pass the hours for one.  And another, because I'm a realistic man.  I know that I probably won't get out of this alive, and I want to give you something to remember me by.  There aren't too many stars named Potter up there, so I'm letting you have mine."

"A star?  Sirius… that's not going to…"

"I know, Harry.  It won't change a thing.  But if they kill me, or suck out my soul, or give me Potions lessons for the rest of my life, I want you to know that you'll never be alone again.  I haven't been the godfather that I wanted to be, and well, this isn't much at all.  Not by a long shot.  But no matter where you are, or what my condition may be, you'll always have that star.  Just like you'll always have me.  Death can't change that."

Harry would have drifted back into his grieved mind, but Sirius caught his eye.  Even clothed in old prison robes, looking by every right a dangerous criminal, Sirius kept his dignity with grace.  His humor and pride had not daunted at all in the past years, which would have killed a lesser man.  He was so much braver than Harry ever gave him credit for.  He laughed in the face of death, willing to give his life for the sake of a boy who wasn't even his son.  Who would never be his son.

"Hey, how about a smile for your godfather, Harry?" Sirius asked teasingly, "There's enough tears in this place already."

He would not be one to deny this brave man's request, so he managed to give Sirius the briefest of smiles.  Sirius reached through the bars and held Harry's hand, willing some of the peace he felt to fill the boy before him.  They stayed like that until Remus returned to bring Harry back to his school.  The only reason he had been let out at all was because he refused to attend any classes until he saw his godfather.  Dumbledore had deemed it more productive to sate the boy with his request than to risk the boy's education.

"I don't want to say goodbye, Sirius," Harry had whispered seeing Remus coming to get him.  He knew this very well might be the last he ever saw of his only father figure.  Sirius shook his head and smiled, sapphire eyes glowing with laughter and warmth.

"Then don't say goodbye, Harry.  Say goodnight instead."/

"Goodnight, Sirius," Harry whispered.  Staring at the bright blue star, blue as Sirius' eyes were blue, his hatred melted.  He could not hate Sirius, no matter what Sirius had said to him.  He loved him like a father and his good and courageous deeds far made up for whatever harsh things he had to say.

As he watched the night sky, wondering how best to make his death quick and painless, a dark blur covered the Dog Star.  He first thought it was a passing cloud, but the quickly moving shape zigzagged back and forth like a giant insect.  Then the figure disappeared again and Harry wondered if Bren weren't right and he was mad.

Then it was back, coming closer at a quicker rate.  Harry pushed himself up and stood to see out the window more clearly.  He barely came up to its bottom rim, but at least he could see more than when he was on the ground.  Now where was that…

"Hello, Harry," a boyish voice said.  Harry leaped back in surprise, nearly falling on top of Bren who was oblivious to the happenings on the other side of the cell.  A small, round face popped up and peeked through the window.  His cold blue eyes scanned the cell.  "Harry?  Are you there?"

"Rob?" whispered Harry furiously, "What are you doing?!  I'm 20 stories up!"

"I'm on a broom, you idiot," snapped Rob impatiently.  "Now hurry up!"

"What?"  Harry was just trying to deal with the fact that an 11-year-old boy's head was floating outside his prison window.

"The rope, Harry!  The rope!"  Rob shoved a thick cord of rope through the bars.  "Tie it around a few of the window bars.  Quick!"

He did as he was told, running purely on autopilot.  Rob instructed him to stand back as he flew away, struggling to pull away the bars.  Finally, the strength of the racing broom won out and 3 bars became loose enough for Harry to pull out.  There was still not enough room for him to climb out though, even in his thinner state.  The designers of the dreaded prison knew well enough to make sure that couldn't happen.

Rob frowned at this and finally took out his wand.  Harry stood back again, hoping the child knew what he was doing.  Curses fell in quick succession, so fast that Harry couldn't decipher what they were.  Obviously some sort of advanced spell work that he had not even learned yet.  But then, how did the boy know?

Pieces of the wall were blown apart and disintegrated.  Harry had to curl up in a corner to avoid the flying shards.  Some of the prisoners woke up and started yelling in their delirious rampages.  Surely the dementors would soon come to see what the sudden problem was.  Harry was out of time.

Finally, when a hole was big enough for him to leap through, Harry turned back to Bren.  "Bren, come on!  I have a way out.  Come on!"  Bren had curled up into a defensive ball when the first curse landed and hadn't moved since.  He turned the man over and immediately jumped back in horror.  Bile rose in the back of his throat as he stared in fascinated horror.

A large shard had flown past Bren's defenses and imbedded itself into the American's forehead, killing him instantly.  His skull was crushed and Harry did not want to look further to see if the 'pieces' around the body really were bone and brain.  He had never seen such carnage before and it sickened him.

"Harry!" Rob cried reaching out his hands, "Let's go!"

Harry stood still, images of previous deaths coming before him.  That poor young Auror, the one who just wanted to get him to safety.  And then Javen came, and turned the man into…

A red fire shot passed Harry and hit the dead prisoner.  Bren's body glowed for a moment and then shrank.  Shrank and shrank until it became nothing more than a dead rat in a rubble-filled cell.  No one would ever know the American had been here unless they knew where to look.

"Harry!  NOW!" Harry's head filled with a sharp pain as Rob screamed at him.  It felt oddly like… but no.  The man was dead and the link with him.

An invisible force pulled him out of the hole and onto Rob's waiting broom.  As soon as the boy had a grip on Harry, he flew off into the night.  Before losing consciousness, the last thing Harry could recall was the fact that their retreat, swift though it was, was not pursued.

*          *            *

Rabbit sifted through the thick rubble of the cell, looking for any type of clue to go by.  He was amazed by the amount of damage that was caused.  An Orc sighed behind him.  "Dos filthy Elfies ha' ruin me cell.  How dey gettin' a wan'?"

"They didn't break out," Rabbit snapped impatiently.  He hated Orcs, and he hated this prison.  Even when on leave, he had to work on some sort of case.  Alwin better pay him extra for this.  But then, he did request this case from the Minister himself.  Fudge had agreed only because it would mean less of his own agents out on the field.

"Wha' yeh meanin', American?"  demanded the Orc throwing some more rubble into the halls for the cleaning crew to pick up.

"I mean that the rubble was blasted inwards.  They couldn't have done this.  Someone broke them out."

The Orc grumbled and went to his task.  Looking down, Rabbit saw a dead rat.  Normally, such a sight would have merely sickened him.  But it was the position of the animal that gave him pause.

The rat was curled up into a tight ball.  Its paws were tight around its head as though to protect it.  Rabbit knew he had never seen a rat act like this before.  A piece of rubble flew in front of his nose and he jumped back to avoid being hit.

"Watch it, Orc," he snapped, "I'm standing here."

The creature shrugged and kept clearing things out.  Rabbit knelt down to look at the rat and saw specks of blood and bone fragments around it.  Far too large for a mere rodent.  He gingerly took out his wand and muttered a spell to undo any transfiguration spells done recently.  The rat grew and changed its shape until it was just a dead man.

"Orc!" he called, "I've found one of your prisoners.  Looks like only one of them got out after all."

*          *            *

"Are you sure?" asked Fudge skeptically, "You cannot be wrong on this.  I have more than just one neck on the line if you are."

"I'm as close to sure as I can be, Cornelius," Dumbledore assured soothingly.  He needed the Minister's help if he was to get Harry back in one piece.

"He's right, Minister," Remus added coming into Fudge's office through the fire.  "The spells cast on the wand are in a particular pattern that should have been paid more attention to.  I performed more tests on his wand in front of a room full of witnesses."

"Why would you say the spells need more attention paid to them?" asked one of the younger Governors who attended the impromptu meeting of the leaders of the British wizarding world.  Remus turned to the Governor, barely older than himself.

"Let's assume that Harry cast every spell on his wand that night.  First, he used one simple spell to get into the Dursleys' household.  Since he did not live there any longer, the spells surrounding the neighborhood was reduced 10 fold.  After this unlocking spell, an anti-animagi spell was used.  Amateur, but effective.  Then we found simple, but obvious dueling spells.  These spells were most likely intended for another wand user since 'expelliarmus' and others were used.  The dueling spells he used suddenly became not as rudimentary, but reminiscent of Javen Derios' fighting style.  They were powerful and they were all spells that Harry learned from Javen while under his care."

"So?" asked Fudge, still not buying it.  "That just proves my point that the boy was turned by Derios."

"I'm not finished yet, Sir," Remus said as respectfully as possible.  "After these spells were cast, some half-finished spells were cast, nothing substantial.  Then the style of fighting used reminded me of another former friend of mine.  Peter Pettigrew's style: rough, barely effective, and entirely predictable.  Since there were no fingerprints other than Harry's on the wand, I can say that if Wormtail did somehow have control of the wand, he held it with his fake one, the one given to him by Voldemort.  It was during this 'round' of curses that some Unforgivable Curses were used.  Not least of all, the Killing Curse.  After this curse was used, more half-finished spells were spit out.  Then, pure defensive spells were used, cast with amateur, but effective skill: a stunner, a block, a spell to draw out an animagi, another block, alohomora, and finally, lumos.  The wand was found outside the Dusleys' door in the driveway."

"That doesn't prove anything, Lupin," defied Fudge crossing his arms.  "This is all rather convenient, isn't it?  Assuming Pettigrew was at the Muggles' house, what was he doing there the exact same time the boy was?"

"Sounds like a set up, doesn't it?" Dumbledore remarked lightly.

"Do you know something we don't, Professor Dumbledore?" asked another Governor.  He was an elderly wizard who had been elected Governor for the past 9 years.

"Remus first came to me with the suspicion that all was not right at my school," Dumbledore said, "It started with the letters that Harry was sending him right before the attack on the Muggles.  He complained of visions of Javen and of a growing feeling of dread.  His friends also remarked of similar behavior.  Something was keeping Harry from getting over his last ordeal, but I could do nothing about it until it was too late."

"We believe that Javen is not as dead as once thought," Remus finished.  The room was surprisingly silent, broken only by Fudge's exclamation.

"Of all the… Derios is dead!" he insisted, "I saw the body myself.  His body is lying in some grave in Wales right now!"

"He body is," agreed Remus, "But every new piece of information I'm finding leads me to believe that somehow he is very much alive.  If Harry still had control of the wand when Javen's curses were used, then it is only the second time he wielded them.  The first time was when Auror Granby confronted them.  Harry used those curses under Javen's direction and control.  He does not have the skill to cast such spells that efficiently.  And there was the link spell that was cast by them over the summer: if one person were to die, the other most likely would too.  Yet, Harry lived."

"Javen would do anything to get his hands on Harry again," Sirius growled.

"Let's just say that Derios is somehow among the living," Fudge reluctantly conceded.  "Let's assume he was controlling the boy that night.  And we'll even say that the deaths were meant to be a set up.  What would Derios accomplish by sending the boy to Azkaban where he is sure to go mad with no way out?"

"But Harry isn't in Azkaban now is he?" asked Dumbledore, "And from what I hear from our American friend here, he hasn't gone mad."

"He would have counted on Harry surviving the prison," Sirius realized.  "Just like he counted on Harry surviving the Death Eater attack during the summer."

"He knows Harry's mind inside out," Remus nodded.  "He knows more of what Harry can withstand than Harry does himself.  The link is still there.  And I'm confident that he's the one who has him now."

"There is no proof," Fudge denied, trying to cling to some semblance of reality.  He would not want to send an innocent boy to Azkaban, least of all the most important boy to his campaign against Dark Magic.  But unless he had proof of his innocence, that boy was still guilty.

"True," agreed Remus.  "But it's making more sense than anything else I've heard lately."

"What about the Death Eater I found as a rat?" mused Rabbit.  "How would he fit into all this?"  He was not as well versed in the story of Javen or Wormtail and was trying to follow along as best he could.

"What Death Eater?" asked Sirius.  Rabbit shrugged.

"We all thought Bren Bouche, the coven master we arrested in Boston, had escaped too.  Turns out he was transfigured into a dead rat.  The coroner says that he was dead before being transfigured.  He was hit by a shard of rock when the wall blew in."

Remus' gray eyes glimmered in victory now.  "Minister, I think we've got our proof.  Harry couldn't have done that without a wand.  And only Javen knows how to transfigure a dead human into a rat.  He did the same thing to Auror Granby if you remember.  It's part of his 'dueling style' to cover up his tracks like that."

"Yes, but…"

"As Harry's defense attorney, I call the last trial a mistrial.  The evidence was not presented in a full and concise manner.  I recommend an appeal."  Fudge flustered for some words to this.  A seated Governor stood up.

"I second this recommendation, Minister.  There is substantial reasonable doubt in my mind that this Javen character is behind this somehow."

"I agree," the younger Governor said, "Let's find the boy and get everything cleared up."

Fudge could do nothing but nod, faced with such opposition.  "Very well, Dumbledore," he agreed reluctantly, "If we find him, you will get your appeal.  But we still do not know where to look."

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, an unspoken conversation taking place between them.  "We'll find them, Minister," Remus said after a while.  "We tracked Javen once and we can do it again."

"Fine," Fudge said.  "I'll send out my own agents as well.  I can't count on the two of you finding that madman."

"I don't think he's mad, Minister," Remus said, "Just very smart.  And very hell-bent on getting Harry for his purposes."

"And we are just as hell-bent on getting him back," Sirius said in a low voice.  His sapphire eyes glowed dangerously.  All of his previous anger and grief was being directed toward this one goal now.  Remus mentally sighed in relief.  It was good to have some semblance of the old Padfoot back.

"Go then," Fudge said waving his hand dismissively.  "We don't have time to stand here and debate on the issue."

They nodded and went through the fire.  Rabbit turned to Dumbledore.  "What should I do, Headmaster?" he asked.  "I don't know this man or how he works."

"You can stay with my team of hit-wizards and Aurors, Unspeakable," Fudge said.  "Merlin knows they don't have a mind to share among them."

*          *            *

The world became hazy with black and yellow.  Nauseous though he was, Harry didn't have anything in his stomach to justify throwing up.  His head ached and throbbed uncontrollably and his limbs felt like lead.  At least he was off that broom.  He didn't know his young rescuer could fly like that; no should be able to fly like that.  Harry was surprised the broom didn't snap from the exertion.  As far as he could tell, they were not being pursued, so why push the broom to its limits?

Opening his heavy eyelids, Harry forced his body to stir.  How nice it had been, just to lay where he was, knowing there were no dementors, orcs, or mad prisoners to deal with.  His body was finally beginning to relax again, being in a constant state of alert since he entered that hellish prison.

However, if he learned anything from his life, it was that you could never relax without first being aware of your surroundings.  He had been caught off his guard too many times in his young life and was trying to learn to be more alert.

"Rob?" asked Harry.  He coughed on some dust layering the building he was in.  "Rob?  Are you there?"

"Yeah," said a soft voice in the shadows.  Rob came out from under a flight of stairs where he had been sitting.

"What were you doing under there?" asked Harry puzzled.  The young boy shook his head.

"Nevermind.  Do you think you can…"  he trailed off, listening to something beyond Harry's hearing.

"Do I think I can what?"

"Shh!"  Rob listened again, a slightly worried expression on his face.  Suddenly, he reverted back to his original conversation.

"Look, Rob," Harry said when he was sure he could speak again.  "I appreciate you breaking me out and all, but you really shouldn't have.  Now you're going to get in trouble.  I think you should get out of here."

"I've been in plenty of trouble before," Rob assured folding his arms into his school cloak.  "This won't change anything."

"I think you're the one who doesn't get it," Harry insisted.  "You should get out of here.  I'll be fine on my own."

"Do you want to go back to Azkaban?" demanded the boy angrily, eyes flashing.  When the older boy before didn't answer, he calmed down again.  This time he didn't apologize for his hot temper.  "I didn't think so.  Just stick with me and we'll be alright."

"What were you listening to before?"  Harry asked, trying to push himself onto his weak legs.  He hadn't really used them in a long time.  Rob half smiled.

"Your father," he replied matter-of-factly.  "I set up silent alarms along the way.  I hoped we could move so fast that he wouldn't be able to pick up our trail.  It seems I was wrong.  He's tracking us.  And fast."  He looked back at Harry, "If he catches us, he'll take us both to Azkaban."

Harry was struck dumb.  How had Padfoot found their trail so quickly?  He was even quicker than before, during the summer.  He would never be able to get away in time.

"We have to hurry then," Harry said nearly frantic, "He'll be here in no time at all."

"Exactly," Rob agreed.  "You stay here while I go throw off our trail.  He'll never get here."

"But how do you intend on…" He did not get to finish his question, for the boy was already out the door.  He sighed, looking around for a good place to hide in case Rob was wrong.  It didn't really matter where he hid for he knew that Padfoot could sniff him out despite everything.  But would he really take Harry back to Azkaban if he found him?

'Don't be stupid,' he berated himself, 'He hates you, doesn't he?  He'll take you back faster than you'll be able to blink.  He wants you to hurt like he's been hurt.'

Even though he would never find a suitable hiding place, Harry looked around anyway.  He may need a quick escape route later, and besides, he needed to keep his mind busy.  The sun was just setting in the horizon, but Harry could still see clearly, or what passed for 'clearly' these days.  People were still about so he had to be careful to remain hidden.  The building he was in was an old condemned building, safe haven from those who did not wish to be bothered by others.  He must have been asleep or unconscious for a long time since he was rescued around 3 in the morning.

He ducked his head quickly as a passing couple walked nearby, heading toward the lake.  His ears pricked at their dialect.  Unless they were a foreign couple, he knew he was once again in Ireland.  The last time he had been there was when Javen stole him away to Dublin.

He looked around the building with widening eyes.  It looked fuzzy and dark with the fading sunlight and lack of glasses, but it seemed frighteningly familiar.  He stumbled to a certain corner of the building, reaching out his hand blindly.  His hands flashed back to his chest as though they were burned.  In front of him was the old closet that Javen had locked him in when he refused to take control of a merman's mind.  And just 10 feet away, next to a toppled set of table and chairs, over a snapped pencil, next to a flimsy strip of flexi-steel ribbing was an ancient fireplace.  He had used that fireplace to contact Professor Dumbledore, desperate to hear a soothing word from the wise Headmaster.

His mind panicked for a moment or two.  He could not deal with this, not now!  Why could his past not stay buried?  Why had Rob taken him here of all places?

He struggled to gain control of his emotions.  The calmer, wiser part of his brain forced him to sit back down on the stairs, away from the room full of memories.  'Javen is dead,' he thought, 'You killed him yourself.  They found his body.  It's all over.'  But was it really?

End Part 7