Author's Note: Wow, I forgot how funny I find this chapter...anyhoo...Am busily uploading & fighting the urge to be immature & beg for reviews. Which was a backhanded way of begging for reviews. Ok, I'm shameless; I admit it.

Chapter 3

Isabelle and Severus Snape walked into the dining room. She hoped that it wasn't too obvious that her knees were shaking. She was excited, but petrified, at the prospect of talking to her long-lost family for the first time in fourteen years. The only thing that would make dinner more enjoyable is if her family recognized her for who she really was.

The night air was much chillier than she remembered, and certainly much colder than Southern summer nights, so Isabelle walked to the fire to warm herself up while the other dinner guests arrived.

Albus Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walked in, talking. Snape took her elbow, steering her towards the two professors.

"Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, I would like to introduce you to the Countess Remizov. She will be joining us for dinner tonight, if you do not mind," Professor Snape said.

Both professors raised an eyebrow at the Remizov name. Seeing hesitation, Isabelle bowed in a formal fashion, playing the part of the perfect countess. "It is my pleasure to meet you," she said graciously.

"And you, Countess. Please, join us tonight," Professor Dumbledore said. Professor McGonagall simply nodded, and took her seat at the table.

Isabelle flushed, and sat down beside Severus. Maybe this was the wrong choice, after all. She bit her lip.

A minute later, Remus Lupin walked in, followed by Sirius Black. They quietly took their seats, giving Snape evil looks. Isabelle couldn't take her eyes off them. Remus hardly looked different at all–a little more gray, but otherwise, the same. It was Sirius who shocked her. She had never noticed that he was extremely handsome before, or rather, he would be if he did something with his hair and gained a little weight. He was her childhood buddy; it had never occurred to her that he was a man. She became quite embarrassed at this realization and stared down at her plate.

"Countess Remizov, is it? I hear that you are quite an excellent dancer."

Isabelle's head jerked up. Oh, no, Sirius spoke to her. What was she supposed to say? Her mind drew a total blank, as her eyes got the deer in the headlights look. Say something, anything, Isabelle! she thought madly. "Um, yes, I dance alright, I suppose."

Remus' eyebrows knitted. "If you don't mind my asking, what kind of accent do you have? It's certainly not Eastern European."

"No, it's not. Actually, it's an American accent, Southern to be specific. I went to high school and college in Virginia, and the accent rubbed off on me," she replied.

"Countess, how is your husband these days?" Professor McGonagall inquired with narrowed eyes.

"Ex-husband," Isabelle said quietly. "And I assume he is as evil as when I left him." She felt four surprised pairs of eyes on her, so she took a deep breath, and continued. "To make an extremely long story short, I left him, and went back home to Virginia to teach at the Richmond Ballet. As far as I know, he doesn't know where I am, and I prefer it that way."

Her eyes became hard, deadened. Remus' heart went out to this beautiful young witch who was obviously experienced more pain than they could possibly imagine. She looked at Snape, and he nodded. Her eyes lost a bit of their deadened look, and she continued.

"However, I did not come here tonight to discuss my love life. Because of my, um, connections, I have some information that I would like to share with you about the night that the Potters died, specifically about Isabelle Evans and Grace Black. I understand, though, if the subject is too painful and you do not wish to discuss it."

Sirius swallowed, and chose his words carefully. "Countess, I have thought of hardly anything else for fourteen years than that night. If there is anything you could say, to bring some sort of closure, by all means, continue."

"As you know, the Dark Lord sent Death Eaters to your house in Sheffield to kill you, Isabelle, and Grace while he personally went to the Potter house. But, before the Death Eaters could reach the house, word of the Dark Lord's demise reached them, and they ran away, scared, abandoning their plan. All except for one Death Eater, who was the person Isabelle heard at the door at the end of her letter. He broke into the house, and found Isabelle with Grace in the nursery." Sirius grew increasingly pale. "She attacked him, but was no match for the much older wizard, and he quickly disarmed her. The Death Eater knew that although the others had gone for now, they would almost certainly be back later. Without you around," nodding at Sirius, "he knew that the children had virtually no chance of survival, and took pity on them. So, he forced Isabelle to pack some belongings for her and Grace, and they left. To hide the fact that there were no dead bodies, the Death Eater exploded the house and illuminated the Dark Mark over the rubble."

"What are you trying to say!" Sirius yelled. "I saw it–I saw the house explode in front of my eyes. No one has ever seen or heard from either Isabelle or Grace again. They are gone. This is enough for me, Countess, and your twisted sense of humor. It has been an extremely difficult day. Please excuse me." He rose from the table, and turned to walk out of the door.

"Wait," Albus Dumbledore commanded. Sirius stopped midstride. "Although, like yourself, I am not sure where Countess Remizov obtained her information, I do know that it is the truth."

"What?" Sirius said, thunderstruck. "Prove it then. Name the Death Eater." He crossed his arms against his chest, his facial expression a combination of disbelief, anger, and hope.

Severus Snape stood and looked Sirius squarely in the eye. "The nursery was upstairs, second room on the left, and was painted a pale yellow."

Sirius blanched. There was no way he could have known that, unless? Could this be true? He weakly sat back down in his chair.

"Answer me one question, Snape," Sirius choked, "Are Isabelle and Grace alive, or dead?"

"Very much alive," Snape answered.

"How?" was all Sirius could reply. His mind told him not to believe Snape's words, but his heart needed to hear the answers to his questions.

"I took the children that night to Hogwarts, where I knew they would be safe. Despite any feelings I had for you, I did not want the girls to die a senseless death. I had planned to return them to you the following morning, but then you were arrested and taken to Azkaban. Dumbledore and I did not quite know what to do, because all our intelligence indicated that you were the Potters' secret keeper. What could we do with the children? Isabelle was shattered beyond repair. Grace faced a life as an outcast because her father was the most notorious criminal in the wizarding world. We could only find one solution–to go along with the Ministry's assumption that they were dead."

"We decided that the best thing to do for both of them was to give them a fresh start, with a new identity," Dumbledore explained. "We took Grace, and placed her in foster care, with very loving parents. Severus took Isabelle to another country, where he looked after her for three years before she went away to Muggle college, and he took his position at Hogwarts. To do this, we needed to trick everyone's mind into not seeing either girl's true identity, which is extremely old magic. So, even if Isabelle or Grace was staring you straight in the eye, you would never recognize either one of them."

"However," Snape said, "We altered the spell to allow for the possibility that people's attitudes could change about the Black family, by entrusting the ability to reverse the spell in a secret keeper. Only the secret keeper can reverse the spell, to give you your family back."

Sirius looked at Dumbledore, tears streaming down his face. "How do I find this secret keeper?"

Dumbledore looked at Snape. Snape sighed. "I know the girls are alive, Sirius, because I am the secret keeper. I alone can see them as who they are, although I only speak to Isabelle. Grace has no idea whatsoever of who she really is, and no one can see the obvious family resemblance between the two of you, except me. So, this is your choice, Sirius," he said, looking at him. "You can reverse the spell for just Isabelle, and leave Grace's life intact as it is. You could reverse the spell for both of them, one of them, or neither of them."

So that's it, Sirius thought. That's his sweet revenge–holding my family's future in his grimy hands. He could walk away; at least he had Harry. Walking away wouldn't hurt anyone, wouldn't disrupt a single thing. But, he knew that he would look for his daughter's face in every girl he saw who was Harry's age. That was the poison on the knife. To know that his own daughter could be looking at him, talking to him, and he would never know the difference. He would never know who her boyfriends were, walk her down the aisle, see his grandchildren. Grace would never know what an amazingly wonderful mother she had, and what Gina had sacrificed for her. Gina. What would she want him to do? What was the better choice?

Sirius swallowed and looked at Snape. "I want both of my girls back," he said, praying that he was making the right decision. He put his head in his hands, barely hearing Snape mutter several incantations. Professor McGonagall gasped loudly, and Remus poked him sharply in the side. Sirius looked up, and blinked.

A pair of emerald green eyes stared into his, much like Harry's did earlier that day. In fact, exactly like Harry's eyes. He tilted his head to one side, not sure of what he was seeing. Countess Remizov had Harry's eyes. The Evans eyes. "Isabelle?" he said hesitatingly.

She nodded, tears pouring down her face. Sirius jumped up, quickly followed by Remus, and engulfed her in a wild, tear-filled hug. Sirius could not believe that he did not recognize Isabelle before now. Her eyes, the way she styled her hair like Gina, the necklace he had given her for her sixteenth birthday; why, she looked almost identical to when he last saw her. Except for the deadened, hard look in her eyes.

He took her by the shoulders, and looked her squarely in her eyes. "Does Count Remizov know who you really are, Isabelle?" he asked seriously.

She shook her head no. "There was no way he could have. I didn't know he was a Death Eater," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I should have listened to Severus. He told me that something wasn't right, but I didn't listen." She buried her head in Sirius' shoulder.

He looked up at Snape. "Did you know, when she married him?"

"No, I did not know that Count Remizov was devoting his time to helping the Dark Lord, and I certainly didn't expect that Isabelle would foolishly run off with him," he replied.

Albus Dumbledore placed his hand on Isabelle's shoulder. "Countess," he began.

"Please," she interrupted, "Miss Evans is fine, and Isabelle is even better."

"Alright, Isabelle," he continued, with a bit of a smile, "I understand that you have a great deal of experience in the Muggle world. Because of Voldemort's return, and his fondness for torturing and killing Muggles, our ability to communicate with the Muggle world has become extremely important. Our students need to learn how to function in the Muggle world in a practical way. Would you be interested in staying here and teaching Muggle Studies?"

Severus and Sirius both gave her an identical look that told her that this arrangement was not up for debate.

"Yes, I would be interested, thank you," she said politely.

Dumbledore continued. "In order to prepare our students to fight the Dark Lord, Professor McGonagall and I have decided to expand our faculty. We are trying to recruit talented witches and wizards to team-teach subjects with our current faculty. Remus, we would be honored if you would return as the assistant to Ms. Arabella Figg, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape frowned. Remus Lupin nodded.

"Mr. Black, seeing as how you were one of my best, although sneakiest, students, I would appreciate your assistance in my Transfiguration class," Professor McGonagall said.

Sirius nodded, dazed. Just this morning, he was not sure whether he would be in Azkaban by the evening. And now, he was a free man, with a job, near his family. Grace. He looked at Snape. "Grace!" he exclaimed. "Who is my daughter?"

"Someone you already care for, and cares for you back," Snape said. "In fact, she helped save your life–twice. Shares her father's love of breaking rules, and ability to rarely get caught doing it."

"You don't mean..." Sirius stammered.

"I do. Your daughter Grace is Hermione Granger."

"WHAT?!?" came five voices in reply.

"Yes, can't you see the resemblance? The Potter hair, only a little lighter, Gina's face, Sirius' eyes, James' flip, know-it-all attitude? She's like having James, Gina, and Sirius all rolled into one," Snape said, rolling his eyes in obvious disdain.

Lupin smiled. "Now that I really think about it, I can honestly see the resemblance. I just never thought of it before."

Professor McGonagall shook her head in agreement. "I agree with you, Mr. Lupin. And, I knew that Hermione was adopted; she told me last term before she went home. She never said anything about it because of Harry. Hermione told me that she felt badly that, unlike Harry, she had people who loved her to take care of her. I would have never thought..."

Sirius laughed. He just laughed, almost hysterically.

"What is the matter?" Isabelle asked, concerned. She had never seen him act like this before.

"Oh, nothing," he said, in an odd voice. "Nothing at all. My only daughter, who I thought was dead for the past fourteen years, is actually in Bulgaria, with her famous international Quiddich player boyfriend, who happens to be nearly four years older than her. For a three-week visit. Why would anything be wrong?"

Lupin shook his head in amusement. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said reassuringly.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," came the reply. Isabelle snickered behind his back. "And you," Sirius turned around, "what on earth were you doing with a Ravenclaw prefect that was worth a month's detention, at the tender age of fifteen?"

Isabelle became very interested in her manicure. "Hmm?" she said.

"Well," said Professor Dumbledore, "it has been an extremely eventful day, and I must confess that I am tired. There is a house on the faculty grounds that is not currently in use, if the three of you would like to use it." He nodded towards Sirius, Remus, and Isabelle. They looked at each other, and smiled. It would almost be like old times. "Minerva, could you show them the way?" Professor McGonagall nodded in reply.

Isabelle walked up to Snape, and gave him a giant hug. "Never call me Countess again," she whispered in his ear, then hurried to catch up with her family, who had already left the room.

-----

Professor McGonagall briskly walked through the castle grounds, pausing at an old iron gate. She tapped it once with her wand, and the gate opened, revealing the faculty grounds. Houses of different shapes and colors were grouped in a circle, around a brass fountain that changed shape every couple of minutes to one of the four animals in the Hogwarts crest. Sirius, Remus, and Isabelle followed her past a thatched roof cottage, French chateau, and log cabin. Professor McGonagall stopped at an American Southern-style house, walked up the stairs, and opened the door.

"Here is your home," she told them. "It is unfurnished, for the most part, but you will receive a housing allowance tomorrow to purchase necessary items. Winky has lit a fire in the living room, and laid down pallets for tonight."

Remus and Sirius walked in, leaving Isabelle and Professor McGonagall on the front porch. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and said in a choked voice, "I am sorry, Isabelle, for the way I behaved earlier. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, but I naturally assumed that because you are associated with Dark wizard, that you approve of the Dark ways. I was wrong. Welcome back, and I hope that your return will bring some peace and joy to your family."

Isabelle smiled, and hugged her former teacher. Professor McGonagall turned and walked into the thatched roof cottage. Winky, the house-elf, walked outside, nearly knocking Isabelle over.

"Excuse me, Winky?" she asked.

"Yes, Winky is a good house-elf. She lights fire for new masters."

"Yes, thank you. Would you mind bringing us some tea?"

"No, no, Winky will bring tea right away." Winky scurried down the path, making Isabelle chuckle. It had been quite a few years since she had seen a house-elf.

Isabelle walked inside the house, where three large, inviting feather pallets had been laid on the living room floor. Sirius and Remus were talking quietly, and jumped a bit when she walked in the room.

"Sorry, it's just..." Remus began.

"I know, I've had the past thirty years to accept that I'm still alive. You've only had the past thirty minutes to absorb that fact."

Remus flashed a smile at Sirius, who still looked quite dazed, and very exhausted. Winky brought in a huge tray of tea and sweets, bowed, and left.

"Would you like some tea?" Both men nodded, so Isabelle busied herself preparing three cups of strong, hot tea. Carefully, she removed a small vial of blue liquid from the inside of her robe, and opened it. She poured half of the contents in the first cup, and the other half in the second cup, leaving the third cup for herself. Isabelle had perfected the fine art of Potions making, courtesy of Snape's tutoring. This particular potion allowed a person to have a deep, restful, dreamless sleep. Sirius looked like a wreck, and Remus didn't look much better, so Isabelle hoped that the potion would give both of them the first good night's sleep either had had in ages.

"Thank you," they said, accepting their cups. Isabelle smiled, as they drank the tea quickly. They would both be out cold in five minutes. Sure enough, Remus yawned, laid down, and was asleep before Sirius even finished his cup. A minute later, Sirius was curled up in a ball, sound asleep. Isabelle swayed as she managed to walk to the third pallet before collapsing. It was barely ten o'clock, but to Isabelle's body, it was four o'clock in the morning, and definitely time for bed.

-----

Isabelle groaned as a small ray of sunshine fell across her eyes, waking her up. Unfortunately, once she was awake, she could not go back to sleep, so she sat up, stretching. Remus and Sirius were asleep, so Isabelle tiptoed past them and snuck into the kitchen. The kitchen was absolutely magnificent. The countertops were a creamy marble, which reflected the warm cherry cabinets perfectly. The center of the kitchen had a huge island with room for a sink and stove on one side, and a bar with four seats on the other. She rummaged around for a teapot, and managed to get the stove working after three unsuccessful attempts. Wizards' appliances worked quite differently from Muggle ones, and Isabelle had not been in a proper wizards' kitchen since she was sixteen years old.

With tea in hand, she set out to explore the rest of the house. There were three large rooms on the bottom floor–the living room on the left, dining room on the right, and kitchen in the back, opening into a screened-in porch. Underneath the large stairwell, which was directly opposite from the front door, was a small bathroom. She quietly walked up the stairs to the second floor, and saw five bedroom doors. The two bedrooms on the right faced the rear of the house, so you could walk outside on top of the screened-in porch. Too tempting for children, she thought, remembering her own failed attempts to sneak out of the house at night. She yawned, and headed back to the kitchen to make a shopping list.

After checking to make sure that Remus and Sirius were still asleep, Isabelle set out for Hogsmeade. Halfway down the lane, she realized that she no money. Sighing, she turned around, and knocked on Professor McGonagall's front door.

"Yes?" she answered, looking very groggy.

"Well, um, I was going shopping, and I realized that I have no money. Well, I have money, but American dollars don't buy much in Hogsmeade. Do you know where I can pick up our housing allowance?"

Professor McGonagall yawned, turned around to her entryway table, and handed Isabelle a bulging envelope. "Isn't is a little early to be up in the morning?" she said.

"Sorry. My system is a little off, because of the time difference between here and Virginia. I woke up early, and decided to get out of the house before I woke up Sirius and Remus. If my memory serves me correctly, they are not pleasant to be around in the morning if they don't get enough sleep."

"Is any man pleasant to be around in the morning, period?"

"Good point. I think I will take my time shopping. Thanks for the money," Isabelle replied, as she headed back down the lane towards Hogsmeade.

She felt very lucky that Severus had taken her shopping yesterday afternoon. Otherwise, she would be completely lost in the maze of shops, houses, and pubs. Two hours later, she returned to the house, packages in tow. She dropped them in the kitchen, and began to make lunch. A rustle in the living room alerted her that someone was awake. Sirius stumbled into the kitchen and plopped into one of the bar stools.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," she laughed.

"Funny," he yawned. "What time is it?"

"Noon."

"Noon! Why didn't you wake me up before now? I have to go," he said, jumping out of his seat.

"Go where?"

"Bulgaria."

Isabelle slammed Sirius back onto the bar stool. "You're not going anywhere. Go ahead–try to disapperate. Try to get off that bar stool, even. It won't happen. Snape used to use this handy little spell on me, when I wouldn't listen to him." She crossed her arms, and stared at him.

He glared back. "How did you do that? I didn't see a wand, and wandless magic is a Dark Art."

"Technically, wandless magic is not a Dark Art. I have not used a wand since Sergei got mad at me when we were first married, and he broke my wand into about ten pieces. But, that's not the point. The point is that you are not going to run off like some madman to Bulgaria."

"My fifteen-year old daughter is with that boy, probably unsupervised, doing Lord only knows what, and you expect me to sit here quietly!"

"Your fifteen-year old daughter is a smart girl. You know that. She will be fine. You, on the other hand, are not fine. Look at yourself. You are a mess, physically, mentally, and emotionally. You are in no shape to be a proper father to her," she continued, gently. "Or Harry. Give yourself some time to heal, Sirius."

He sighed. "You are right. I know it. I am a real mess, aren't I?"

She looked at his worn, tattered robes, wild hair, and emaciated frame. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Not particularly."

Remus walked in, stretching. "Good morning, sunshine," she told him.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Here," she said, putting plates full of food in front of them. "Eat up. Both of you need some energy. It's going to be a very busy day." They dug into the food, as she unpacked her packages, sorting them into two piles.

"What is that?" Remus asked through a mouth full of food.

"This," Isabelle said, "is everything y'all need to rejoin the human race. Clothes, shoes, razors, soap, for starters. As soon as you clean up and change, we are going to Hogsmeade for haircuts. Because, well, y'all do look kind of pathetic."

Sirius wrinkled his nose and looked at Remus. "I think she has a problem with our new look. I think it's quite fashionable."

"Look, old man," she replied, "you can either clean up, or sit on the stool all day and wallow in your dirtiness. You, too," she said, looking at Lupin. "The showers are upstairs." Grumbling, they picked up their piles, and headed up the staircase.

"She's sure gotten bossy," Lupin said, with a small smile.

"Yeah, Snape ruined her. Speaking of, why doesn't she force Snape to take a shower? I looked better in Azkaban than he does."

"Good point," he said, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

An hour later, they returned down the stairs. "Happy now?" Sirius asked. He did have to admit to himself that Isabelle has good taste in clothing, and that it was nice to wear something that didn't have ten holes in it. Not that he would tell her that, of course.

"Ecstatic," she replied. "Now, let's do something about the bird's nest on top of your head, shall we?"

After a trying ordeal at the barber shop, including the barber swearing profusely after breaking two combs in Sirius' hair alone, they were walking home when Isabelle stopped suddenly in front of The Three Broomsticks.

"Let's stop for a drink, ok? It's on me."

They walked in, sitting at a table in the corner, out of sight of most of the patrons. Isabelle brought over three drinks, which they drank quickly, because Remus noticed a reporter from the Daily Prophet looking over at them with interest. They managed to duck out of the pub, but not before the reporter recognized Isabelle. He quietly followed them, and took several pictures of them walking down the street, talking and laughing. Taking out his notepad, he began writing a story, questioning the involvement of newly freed Sirius Black with Countess Isabelle Remizov.

-----

Harry paced back and forth, in Mrs. Figg's living room. Today, the Dursleys were set to arrive home from Spain. Mrs. Figg noticed Harry's unease as she walked in the room. Although it had been a week ago, the shock of Sirius Black's trial was still quite evident in Harry's demeanor. He spent many sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, wondering about the family that he had never met.

Mrs. Figg turned to him with a large photograph album in her hands. It was deep blue, with gold leaf edging. He stifled a groan. It was the same photograph book that she had made him look at since he was a small boy.

"Before you leave, I wanted to give this to you," she said, handing Harry the album. "A long time ago, I worked as an Auror. One of the last assignments that I had was to help gather evidence from the Black house. There was nothing recoverable there, except for this album, which I found about fifty feet from the back door. I took it, and kept it here all these years, so that when you discovered the whole truth about your family, you would have pictures of all of them."

"That's what you've been making me look at all these years? My family?"

"Yes. Would you like to see them?"

"Sure."

"Hold on, let me reanimate the photographs. I charmed them into Muggle-like still frame photography, so that your aunt and uncle wouldn't get too suspicious." She opened the old, dusty book. "Here's one, of your family's old house in Dover."

The large, sprawling house was beautiful, Harry thought. "Who is that climbing the trellis?"

"That's your Aunt Isabelle when she was eight. And, that's your mother yelling at her to get down, before she breaks her neck."

"What was my mother like?" Harry asked.

"She was very clever, and beautiful. Lily had a fiery temper, and was headstrong. She and your father were always fussing about something or the other. He would make some comment that he knew would make her angry, just to see her reaction. He wasn't happy unless he started something–that's why he was such a practical joker, I suppose." She turned the page. "This is he, Sirius, and Remus playing Quiddich in the back yard."

Harry watched the three of them playing Quiddich for a minute. "Hmm," he said. "Dad did have a weak spot on the right side. Go figure." He flipped through the pages, and stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding. He choked up a bit, and turned the page to a wedding picture of two people he had never seen before.

"Who are they?"

She laughed. "That's Sirius and your Aunt Gina."

Harry stared at the page. "No way that's Sirius. Absolutely no way." The groom was beaming with a happiness that he had never seen from his godfather.

"That's him. No one could figure out why they fell in love with each other; they were total opposites. Gina was shy, soft spoken, and hid behind her drawings most of the time. While your mother was out conquering the world, Gina was quietly designing clothing. She was very good at it, too. Sirius, on the other hand, was handsome, clever and daring–and he knew it. He did not suffer from a lack of self-confidence."

Mrs. Figg flipped the pages, and stopped at the next to last page. "This is the photograph I really wanted you to see. This is the Christmas after you were born. There's your mother, holding you, with your father beside her. That's Isabelle holding Grace, and Sirius is trying to make Grace smile by tickling her foot with a sprig from the Christmas tree. But, she seems too interested in pulling your ear. Hmmm...Remus must have been taking the picture."

Harry stared at the picture, enchanted, as the figures laughed at each other and waved up to him. The doorbell rang, and Harry quickly stuffed the album into his bookbag. Aunt Petunia, looking very tan, hovered in the doorway as Harry hugged Mrs. Figg goodbye and hopped into the car. He sat silently on the ride home, ignoring Dudley's comments about how wonderful Spain was. He followed them into the house, pausing to snicker at the dirty, moss-eaten spot on the front stoop.

Uncle Vernon sat down on the living room sofa as Aunt Petunia opened up the windows to freshen the room. Just as Harry turned to go upstairs and look at the photo album again, Pig, Ron's owl, flew into the room, landing on Harry's shoulder. Uncle Vernon flushed a deep red, but Harry calmly untied the letter, and sat down in an armchair to read it.

"Dear Harry," the letter said, "Mom got an owl from Sirius this morning asking if you could stay with us for the rest of the month. She says that since he's your guardian now, not the Muggles, that we don't have to ask permission to come and get you. Fred, George, and I are planning to walk over from Mrs. Figg's house to get you at five o'clock this evening, and we can get back to the Burrow from there. See you then, Ron."

"What did that letter say?" Uncle Vernon fumed.

"That Ron's family is coming to pick me up tonight," he said cooly. "From there, I will be staying with my godfather."

Uncle Vernon sputtered, as Dudley let out a squeak, and ran upstairs to his room. For the rest of the day, tension was high in the house. Every time Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia saw Harry, they stomped off into another room. At a quarter to five, Aunt Petunia walked into the living room, where Harry was waiting for Ron.

"What are you looking at?" she spat.

"Pictures of my family," he said through clenched teeth.

The doorbell rang and Harry opened the door. Before leaving the house, he turned around. "Goodbye, Aunt Petunia," he said. "I am going to live with my real family now." He closed the door, and headed down the steps with Ron, Fred, and George. Despite the past few months, Harry felt happy and free. He was finally rid of the Dursleys.

The four boys ran to Mrs. Figg's house, where they enjoyed some chocolate pie before leaving for the Burrow. Fred and George went upstairs and brought down Harry's trunk. They tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace, and were off with the trunk, followed by Ron. Harry took a deep breath, put his glasses in his pocket, and stepped into the fire, saying, "The Burrow!" After a minute, Harry landed in the Weasleys' kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was at the stove, stirring a pot full of something that smelled delicious. Fred, George, and Ron were standing around the kitchen table, staring at something. Harry walked up to the table, where the Daily Prophet was laying there, open. Ron pointed at a headline, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Pardoned Criminal Caught with Famous Dancer," Harry read aloud.

"Keep going," Ron said. "You're not going to believe this."

Harry sat down with the paper, and read on. "Earlier this week, Countess Isabelle Remizov was seen in Hogsmeade on the arm of Sirius Black. Black, who was recently acquitted for conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter, appeared calm and carefree, as he escorted the Countess through town. The Daily Prophet has confirmed that Countess Remizov secretly resigned from her husband's ballet company two years ago, and divorced him last year. Since that time, she returned to her native Virginia. However, she was at Sirius Black's trial last week, and has been seen with him ever since. Could the pardoned criminal be seeking comfort in the arms of the world's most famous dancer? We will keep you updated, as this story develops."

Harry's mouth dropped open. There Sirius was, in black and white, chatting easily with Countess Remizov. He looked much like he did in his wedding picture -- happy, clean-cut, without the deadened look in his eyes. Could this be true? He looked at Ron.

"I don't know Harry. They seem pretty cozy to me," he said.

"No kidding," Harry mumbled. "But, remember what Rita Skeeter said about Hermione and me last year. It could just be a misunderstanding."

"Maybe you should send an owl to Sirius, to ask. Since you are going to stay with him, that is."

"Good idea," Harry said, looking for a piece of parchment and a quill. "Dear Sirius," he wrote. "Here is a copy of an article the Daily Prophet wrote about you. Not to be nosy, or anything, but I was just wondering how true the article is. Your godson, Harry." He folded up the article in the parchment, tied the letter to Pig's leg, and sent the little owl off into the sunset.

"Well, we'll just have to see what he says," Ron said. "Anyway, Fred and George are already out practicing Quiddich. Want to go join them?"

"Absolutely," Harry said. Ron and Harry ran upstairs, grabbed their broomsticks, and went outside. Fred and George were beating Bludgers around the backyard, knocking down tree limbs. After an hour of practicing Quiddich, the four trudged back to the house, for dinner.

Ron and Harry were sitting upstairs in Ron's room, discussing the Chudley Cannons' chances of having a winning season, when there was a tapping on the window. Pig flew in the window, slamming into Harry's chest. Apparently, Sirius had lost no time writing Harry a reply.

"Dear Harry," the letter said, "I hope that you made it to Ron's house alright, and that you are doing ok. I am not sure where the Daily Prophet got its information, but all of it is correct. Countess Remizov is an old friend of mine and is my houseguest, perhaps permanently. This does not mean that I don't want you to live with me and Remus. I don't want you to think that at all. In fact, I can hardly wait until I have wrapped up my business and can come pick you up from the Burrow. Please tell Ron and Hermione that they are welcome to come visit with you. There is plenty of room in the house for them. See you soon. Love, Sirius. P.S. Please don't let Hermione spend time alone with Viktor, ok?"

"Wow," Ron said. "So, what does this mean? Is Sirius dating this Countess, or are they just friends?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied. "I guess we just have to wait until he picks us up. You are coming with me, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. What do you think he meant by the p.s.? Viktor isn't even coming here with Hermione. How weird."

"Beats me."