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Chapter 28 – Disturbing Revelations

"Good morning and thank you to be here. I hereby declare open the 538th session of the Order of the Phoenix."

These words uttered, Albus Dumbledore sat down. The others looked around them uneasily. Most of them still had bandages due to the attack on Hogwarts, and some were missing altogether, either stranded in the Hospital wing, or dead.

"The first order of business is the attack aftermath. If everybody agrees, I propose to run all the funerals next week-end. We will also host the ceremony at Hogwarts and build a memorial there."

A young witch, visibly still shaken from her injuries, raised her hand. "How many... how many did we..."

Seeing her state, the aged professor understood the question and nodded. "We have suffered many casualties, although less than it would have been if we hadn't been helped." People began to discuss between them at this, and he raised his hand to get their attention before continuing. "From the defending force, we lost twelve students, three professors, and nine other Order members. They were mostly victims of the curses from the Death Eaters, as it appears that, when a Dementor falls, he releases the souls of those it Kissed recently."

When he saw that people were becoming restless, wanting to ask question, he raised his hand again, and continued his macabre count. "We also have twenty students, two professors, and five members wounded. Now, there is also the matter of the Great Hall. We gathered the weakest students there, but apparently, there were junior Death Eaters in their midst." Seeming to ignore the gasp of outrage of his audience, while he was cringing internally, he continued. "Eight students launched a bodily attack on their comrades, and I'm sorry to report ten fallen students and nineteen wounded. We also lost Elphias, and Sybil got critically wounded. The aggressors have been dealt with, though, and the persons behind all this are being punished."

That last sentence calmed the meeting somewhat, before people remembered their question from earlier. "What happened with the Dementors? Why did they stop attacking? And what was that lion? Who was it?" The last question was asked by the tiny professor Flitwick, who had seen, like most of the audience, the boy transforming into the winged lion in the great hall.

Dumbledore sighed. That wasn't going to be easy, and he would have to lie a little. But he could manage. He had lied before, after all. "For those who didn't see, we got helped by a winged lion, which dispatched many Dementors before launching on the Death Eaters. He disappeared afterwards, but on the evening, a boy entered the great hall, and transformed into the animal in front of us. His identity, as well as the exact circumstances of his appearance and transformation, is not known. The girl who was with him in the great hall is unknown as well.

"Now, concerning the Dementors... the party that went to Azkaban succeeded in bringing back the artefact we needed to control the Dementors. After a short time trying, we finally got full control over them. They are now in the lowest levels of Hogwarts, not to move away except to defend the castle. Of course, we have reinforced these orders by preventing anyone to circumvent them. I'm sure Voldemort is quite distraught about that at the moment."

While the debriefing went on and on, Albus Dumbledore couldn't stop thinking about Harry's return and its impact on Hogwarts, Voldemort, and a certain Prophecy. It was only after an hour into the meeting that he took notice of Moody's non-attendance. He was ready to ask someone about the aged Auror absence when the fireplace roared to life, and a tall person entered the room. The intruder was clad in a black cloak with the hood up so that the face was hidden. Even the voice wasn't recognizable, although everyone present recognized the work attire of an Unspeakable.

These persons were in the deepest secrecy inside the Ministry. No one really knew who they were, but everyone knew that their job was to guard the most important secrets and most powerful items of the wizarding world. The Unspeakable's hood oriented toward Dumbledore, and a disguised voice spoke. "Auror Alastor Moody gave us several items of great importance and asked us a question. The answer might interest Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. As such, Albus Dumbledore is required to appear in the Department of Mysteries lobby."

The cloaked figure then disappeared, and everyone began to express their wonder and worry at the news. Dumbledore stood up, and addressed the group. "I should be back in an hour. We will reconvene then. In the meantime, and if I'm late, the Headmistress will be in charge."

He then straightened himself, and Apparated in the Ministry main lobby, before navigating his way in the convoluted building toward the Department of Mysteries.

Alastor Moody was waiting there, with an Unspeakable who resembled the one that fetched Dumbledore, although you couldn't really say, as the outfit made all of them look similar. The old Auror was looking disgruntled to be waiting, but, once Dumbledore entered the room, a door appeared in one of the walls, and they were ushered inside by the cloaked figure.

The room was quite small, and the floor, walls, and ceiling, were all decorated with intricate wooden shapes, some of which animated. The only furniture items were three high-backed chairs beside a large and sturdy table. On the table were three objects: Moody's trunk, a book, and the pensieve-like basin that they had taken from Azkaban.

The Unspeakable sat, visibly waiting for them to sit as well. Albus Dumbledore, despite being one of the most powerful wizards in the world, couldn't perceive the hidden person's identity or thoughts. Alastor Moody, despite having a magical eye, couldn't look through the hood either. However, both knew that the Unspeakables' power was backed by the Ministry, through unknown means. They sat silently.

The asexual voice resounded in the small room, and the words themselves were heralding doom for the wizarding world. The two guests were so shocked that they couldn't utter a word during the whole speech.

"The last prisoner alive in the lowest level of Azkaban wasn't displayed in the Register you browsed, Auror Moody, because the Register itself was created 852 years ago, and that man was imprisoned before that. 99 years before, to be exact. That prisoner escaped, thanks to Auror Tonks' lapse of attention. However, due to his identity, it should have been obvious that it could have happened one day or the other."

The Unspeakable crossed his black-gloved hands on his lap and continued. "Eighty-three years ago, the Aurors managing the prison found that this man had a very large cell, twice as large as the others, and, not knowing why, they conjured a wall in the middle of the cell while the prisoner was sleeping. You now know, Auror Moody, that the trapdoor you found was in fact part of that prisoner's cell, and the study you emptied, his own."

Standing up, the cloaked figure paced for a time, before continuing his tale. "We suspected, but it's now proven thanks to one of his books," he pointed to the book opened on the table, "that this wizard had created several of the darkest spells we know of, three of which being notorious under the Unforgivables epithet." He ignored the gasps of the two old wizards, and sat down again. "However, such a breakthrough doesn't come with a price, and more questions arose." he bent to read from the book, "I made this spell and these creatures to achieve one goal: remove the target's soul and transfer it to the receptacle I made for this, so long ago." He was pointing at the dark basin. "These souls will help me outlive my old enemy Godefroy Frederic, so that I'll wipe all of these mudbloods as soon as I get out of his ill-thought imprisonment."

He looked up. "Of course, you both know about a Godefroy Frederic who lived more that 950 years ago?" Seeing their perplexed look, the hooded figure sighed. "Of course. If I tell you that that Godefroy Frederic preferred to be called Godric?"

The two guests looked at him, shell-shocked at all these revelations, wide-eyed, mouth open, and totally mute.

Broderick Bode chuckled internally. If his Unspeakable job had allowed it, he would have taken pictures of these two wizards, who were rumoured impossible to baffle and who were now completely flabbergasted. For a fleeting moment, he reflected about the line drawn by the High Council between what was to reveal and what was to hide. Bode had voted for revealing the truth, at least telling the spell's name to these two. But the others had rejected the idea, arguing that it would change everyone's view of the magical world, and that the man's identity was enough for now. True to their traditions, the one losing the vote had to act on it.

Returning his mind to the present, he prepared himself to ask the last question, ready to give the coup de grâce. Looking at them through the magical construct that made his face invisible and his voice unrecognisable, he uttered it. "Now that you know that this escaped prisoner was Gryffindor's nemesis, and that he hated muggleborns, do you really need to be told his name?"

In a large castle...

The room was large. No, scratch that. The room was huge. And its shape proved that its construction had been supervised by a great architect, no other than Leonardo da Vinci. The walls were decorated by paintings easily recognizable as being from Titien, Michelangelo, and Boticelli. Several magnificent statues lined the wall. In the middle of it, a grand piano was opened, and the music from it permeated the whole room. An old man was playing, alone, in the huge room, and the tune wasn't one that was written anywhere, although it was as beautiful as the room.

One of the large doors clashed open, and a person clad in black leather entered, panting. The old man looked at him, and stopped playing immediately, rising to meet the other. "In the name of everything that doesn't exist yet, what art thou doing ere?"

The other raised his head, having visible difficulties to breathe. "We... we have to meet... urgent... game." he said, before disappearing.

The old man thought for a second, and disappeared too.

He met the other one in what they had called the Chess Room, a long time ago. That room was located right between their domains, so that none of them could have any influence on the play. The second reason for its location is because each domain had a residual effect on its inhabitants, and the two masters had great difficulties moving in the other's domain. That's why Thirteen's panting appearance in his 18th music room had disturbed him greatly.

Said androgyne was looking better now, having conjured an armchair and resting. Once he could speak normally again, he fixed the old man with a piercing gaze.

"We have a problem."

The old man waited for the other to tell exactly what the problem was. When he didn't, he asked "Well?"

"A big one. If the Superintendent gets wind of it, we might even get replaced."

"We?"

"Yes. We. Us. I didn't check my arrivals, and you didn't keep your creations in check. Now, one of them has found a way to cheat us of several thousands souls. It could even be counted in millions, for all I know."

"But... but... how?"

"Remember the leeway you gave to your pieces as a reward for gaining the chess game we played a thousand years ago?"

"Hmmm... yes? What about it?"

"One of them is still alive!"

If the androgyne could have thought that possible, he would have taken a picture of the old man's surprised face. As the Creator, the old man was normally impervious to surprises. But now, he was looking at the other one with wide eyes, before stuttering "But... how... when... why...?"

"Articulate, aren't we now?" the androgyne smirked, before taking a serious expression again. "He has lived longer than anyone, even the little alchemist who you rewarded for his creations. What was his name, again? Flannel?"

"Flamel."

"Anyway... back to our wayward mortal. I don't know how, but I guess that he had found a way to use the souls, and... what?"

The old man looked guiltily at him. "I might have played a role there. He proposed to create a spell to differentiate the souls so that we wouldn't argue anymore to separate them between our realms. That was ambitious, and the man was old already, very ill, and imprisoned, so I thought 'why not?' and I gave him... I gave him the structure of the soul."

The other one looked flabbergasted, before retorting angrily. "You gave a mortal the structure of the soul? You are really mad!"

"I thought he was going to die soon afterwards!"

"He was not! He proposed the same thing to me, though through a creature instead of a spell, and he only asking to live some years to achieve his project."

"Thou... thou didst agree?"

"What do you think? At that time, I was already fed up about our arguing over every little soul."

"That means that... he's immortal, now?"

The androgyne smirked. "Apparently not."

"How so?"

"Through a fluke of fate, this man had been separated from the receptacle where he holds the missing souls, eighty-or-so years ago. Speaking of which, I saw the receptacle and I don't envy these souls. The basin is plain, without any interest. At least, in my domains, the souls have things to do. I guess that some of them have spent a thousand year of boredom now."

"Should we pause our game to treat that?"

"You know very well that we can't. The pieces are moving by themselves because of your insistence to give them free will... again!"

"Well... at least the man does not belong to it."

Silence met this last sentence.

"Tell me he is not in the game."

Still silence.

"I cannot believe it! Since when?"

"What do you think? He appeared next to my King and helped its promotion."

"Yes, I saw that. Very impressive..."

"Back to the topic, if you will? I initially thought it was a zealous follower, but I looked him up, and fetched you a few minutes ago."

An uneasy silence fell on the room, only troubled by the sound of chess pieces moving around. Unnoticed by the two entities in the room, a black bishop was turned right toward them from the chess board, its stylised head smirking.

Northern London, that afternoon...

Harry Potter, after having assumed his usual appearance, used his ring to portkey back in his bedroom at the Freyr's. He didn't know the exact time but the shadows cast by the spring sun told him it was mid-afternoon. Because it was a school day, he thought that nobody was home, and wanted to sit on his bed to ponder about what to tell his friends. His first bodily need, though, was to use the toilet, and he opened his bedroom door.

And jumped back in fright.

He was attacked!

By... furniture?

In front of him, crashing on the floor, went the folding ironing table and the large wooden planks he had prepared a few days ago for Joan. He cursed himself. Of course, him being absent, they could put things against his door as much as they want. He listened to hear if anyone was home, but heard nothing. Thinking about it, he could only smack his forehead mentally, as anyone smart enough would be silent after his crash.

Peering around his door, and into the stairs, he froze. There, looking straight at him with surprised faces, were his four friends.

A pregnant pause ensued.

Jason was the first to react. "Shall we discuss about all this, Gabriel?"

After a second or two pondering the situation and the offer, Harry shook himself and then nodded. He couldn't close his door, so he just stepped over the obstacle and went downstairs. As he approached his friends, only silence met him. They went to the living room, and sat. Only then did he notice that Tamara was looking at him nervously, as if trying to tell him something.

Jason was the first to break the silence, again. "Well... Gabriel, Tamara told us quite everything."

Harry looked at her in wonder, but Tamara spoke first. "I had to tell them about your hideaway." she blurted, "The school... our school is closed because they didn't find the corpses after our falling from the roof. Speaking of which, they think it was a suicide. I also told them about you travelling with me to your school then bringing me back home." Unnoticed by the others, she was looking at him with a pleading look while saying the last sentence.

Harry understood that she wanted him not to question that last part in front of them, but he didn't know what had happened to her exactly, so he reflected that he would have to question her later.

Jason spoke again. "Gabriel... after everything we noticed you doing... will you confirm being a... wizard?"

A silence.

And, after a deep sigh, Harry answered. "Well... yes."

The shouted questions that came next prevented him to explain more. However, hearing a distinctive and repetitive knock at the window, he tuned them out immediately. Standing brusquely, he jumped over the small table to reach the window behind which a flurry of feathers could be seen. Opening the window, he was bowled over by a large and white bird hooting wildly. The display was so bizarre that the other teens could only gape at it, while Harry rose from the floor.

The young wizard was holding a large bird, crying in relief. His friends could only make some words out of his jumbled speech. "Hedwig! I'm sorry! I thought I lost you too..."

Patting his owl, Harry quickly noticed that a message was attached to her leg. He didn't have the time to take it, because another owl, this time a brown one, barged through the open window, hitting him in the head with its package. He barely caught it, before the brown owl left through the window again. Harry sighed, and went to close the window.

He then took Hedwig's message, before going back to his seat, his rediscovered owl perched on his shoulder, nibbling gently on his ear, to the mute stupefaction of his friends. He smiled, and told them "Sorry, guys. Mail."

He barely noticed their jaws hanging even lower. None of them had ever seen owls carrying mail, and, associated with him being a wizard, it was beginning to become incomprehensible. Harry opened the package delivered by the brown owl. He glanced at the first of several sheets of paper, and smiled, uttering only one word before closing the package. "Luna." He would have time afterwards to explore the current stories in the magical world.

After a quick glance at his friends, he smirked at their dumbfounded state, and opened the other letter. The message was short.

Harry,

I took care of Hedwig while you were "away".

I do hope to see you again soon.

Love from,

Ginny

Harry brought his hand to his eye, and wiped away the tear that was there. It has been a long time since his other eye couldn't shed a tear anymore, and even if it could, his skin had been burnt there, and would have been unable to feel it.

He then looked at his friends, and they were still looking at him in wonder.

"Hmmm... hi?"

Still nothing.

"Well... I guess that a little presentation is in order." He braced himself, knowing that it was going to be difficult. Thinking about it, he stopped himself just when he was to tell them his real name. They were muggles, and if a Death Eater happened to hear them speaking about him, they would be in great danger. Besides, if what Hermione had told last year was true, he could still be reached with owls using Gabriel's name as he could still think about himself as such. After all, he had spent a whole year under that name.

"Ah, well. Sorry. I just remembered something important. As you know, I have had problems with my memory."

They all nodded faintly. At least, he thought, they were following.

"Last night, I met someone who helped me recover it."

Seeing their gazes, he felt obligated to elaborate.

"That person knew me, and gave me my name back, and that helped me tremendously." He looked briefly at Tamara next. "She also taught me something... about what had happened in the school."

Her eyes showed that she understood, but she didn't dare to move a finger, to avoid the others' attention. Sensing it, Harry looked at his other friends in turn.

Jason shook himself, and tentatively asked "Well... it's awkward... who are you, then?"

He looked at them seriously. "I can't tell you. Where I come from, there are some dangerous persons who seek me out. It's better for you to still call me Gabriel."

He then looked at Jason and continued. "To ease a bit of curiosity you might have about me, Jason... yes, I'm related to that old cousin of yours. And yes, he was a wizard, too. A mightily powerful one on top of that. But, for the same reason as before, I'd prefer that you never mention his name in public."

Kevin was recovering his wits, too, and was now bouncing up and down on his seat. "Can you demonstrate?"

"What?"

"Can you show us what you can do?"

He frowned, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather not do anything foolish. Besides, I don't have my wand."

"Your... wand?"

"Yes. Thinking about what had happened in Halloween, I guess I unconsciously thought that I had one, but I could only provoke an accident. So there, no demonstration..." seeing the crestfallen expression on his friend's face, he mischievously added "yet. However, now that I know who I am, I will have to continue my education in my old school."

They all fell silent, and Joan looked at Harry with her eyes wide open and shining. She tried to speak, but failed, and, sobbing, she fled to the kitchen. Jason started to stand up, obviously to follow her, before remembering Harry's presence and sitting back down. Noticing that, and remembering Jason's reaction when he had arrived in school a year ago, Harry stood, and, putting a hand on his arm, spoke in his ear so that the two others couldn't hear. "She doesn't belong to me. We'll talk about it later."

Standing up, he winked to the dumbfounded expression Jason was displaying, and he went to the kitchen. There, he easily noticed Joan who was sitting on a chair facing the window, her arms circling her knees.

"Joan?"

No answer.

"J?"

She mumbled something.

"What?"

In a very small voice, she asked "You are going to leave m... us?"

He understood, and that wasn't an easy chat to have. "I'm sorry, J. I have to. I'll be there often, though."

She turned toward him and looked at him through watery eyes. "Do you... did you lo... do you like me?"

He could only blink back his own tears, and went next to her, before hugging her. After a few seconds, he answered. "I like you very much, Joan. You deserve the whole truth." He sighed, and stepped back so that he could look her in the eye, even if he was nervous. "There was a girl I... liked... before losing my memory. When I saw you for the first time, I thought it was you, because you look like her. Now that my mind is whole, I want to come back to her." He held her close again, sensing new tears coming up. "I'm sorry. You'll always be one of my best friends. One of my only friends, in fact."

They spent a long time together, before being interrupted by the sound of someone entering the house. Michael was home. Their three other friends went home, after they all promised to meet early at Jason's place the next day, which was a Saturday.

Midnight, in a dark cottage on the outskirts of Manchester...

Voldemort was pacing in front of his followers. He was smiling. Next to his throne, on an equally magnificent armchair, his ally looked bored.

"Death Eaters!" he shouted suddenly.

That had the effect of surprising his followers. They had always been wary of him, and today was no exception.

"Dear followers..." he continued.

That got their attention. They looked around, not quite understanding their Dark Lord's new way of speaking. Never before had he addressed them likewise.

"I'm alive!" he yelled, before launching this high-pitched laugh that unnerved everyone. Only a light tapping stopped him. Voldemort turned around, ready to curse the impudent interrupting his mirth. Seeing his ally smirking at him, he remembered the plan, and turned again, addressing his followers again.

"We are to conquer again! When the Dementors failed, we will succeed! We will crush them, beginning by their weakest point. We will destroy their morale, we will..."

A small cough, only heard by him, stopped his rant. He didn't turn around now, imagining the exact smirk that awaited him behind him. That ally was really unnerving, he thought. He addressed his followers again, this time trying to stick to the plan.

"Each of you has been assigned a commander, and you will follow them, obeying their orders, and generally wreaking havoc wherever you go. Bellatrix, you and your group will attack Hogsmeade. Lambert, you go to Ottery St Catchpole. Jugson, you go to the Ramsgate Pier. I will take Diagon Alley. Don't forget: these are intimidation missions against wizarding settlements, so I want you to leave as soon as any opposition arises. Get around your commander, get ready, and apparate together in fifteen minutes, I want them completely disorganized."

Chaos ensued, followers moving around to get near their commanders, who had to remove their masks to be recognized. Voldemort's ally took his head in his hands, sighing at the lack of military efficiency in that Dark Lord. Voldemort himself felt strange, as if he just forgot something. He shook his head, though, as he had to clear the mess of followers moving around, and to lead an attack afterwards.

Earlier that evening, in northern London...

The meal was subdued. Michael had been pleased to see Harry, and glad that he had recovered his memory. He was sad, though, that Harry, which he still called Gabriel, had to leave soon. Harry hadn't told him about being a wizard, and the man felt that there were things unsaid. Joan was also sad about his leave. All in all, they didn't talk much during the meal.

A bit afterwards, Joan and Harry went upstairs in their respective bedrooms. Harry had just the time to send a short answer to Ginny, telling her that he was going back shortly, when Joan entered his room, crying again. They then discussed about him, her, and Michael.

"You have to tell him! I don't have the right to tell him instead of you, but I can't lie to him either. Please?"

He sighed. "Okay, okay. But only the minimum."

"Just tell him what you are and why you have to leave soon."

"Will you be there?"

"Yes."

They went downstairs, where Michael was reading a book. He prepared to greet them, but, by looking at their faces, the man felt that they had something to say.

"Yes?"

Harry coughed, before addressing him. "Michael, there have been some... unusual events going on around the fair, you remember?"

The man frowned, half trying to remember, and half wondering where that discussion will lead.

Harry continued. "Well, as Joan and our friends discovered it already, I have a little secret I have to share with you before leaving."

The man held his hand in front of him. "You do as you wish, Gabriel. If you don't want to tell, it's your right. If you do, though, know that your secret will be safe with me."

Harry smiled. "I guessed so. I will tell you, for you to be able to understand things, as well as Joan and our friends when they will speak about me." He drew a deep breath. "First of all, do you believe in magic?"

After discussing with them for the best part of an hour, and proving things by disappearing to his hideaway once, Harry felt quite tired. After all, he had been awake for almost 24 hours now. Contrarily to what he had initially thought, he promised to stay for school until the end of term, keeping in touch with his friends. After making that promise, he added that he had a revenge to plan, then, as the jocks hadn't been punished for their crime yet.

He took his leave of them, and, yawning widely, went to bed. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. His sleep, however, was to be cut short, as a vivid dream took place. Well, it wasn't a dream as one could think. It wasn't a nightmare either, as there weren't any distressing feelings involved, although his head hurt. It was more like a vision, a vision where a madman with a scaly skin made plans to attack wizarding homes. Understanding the danger and the identity of the scaly madman, he woke with a start. Remembering the scale of power in the wizarding world, he spoke to his ring.

"Hogliewarts."

Once there, he transformed into a winged lion, and quickly ran to what he thought was the Headmaster's office, scaring Filch and Mrs. Norris on his way. Once there, he found himself looking at a gargoyle statue quite stupidly. He didn't have the password! Annoyed about it, he ran to where he could find his other well-known figure of authority: the office of Professor McGonagall. Once there, he transformed back, and knocked repeatedly on the door, panting. After a minute, a tired male voice told him to enter, and the lock clicked open, while he heard footsteps in the corridor behind him. He opened the door quickly, and was quite surprised to see Albus Dumbledore in a mauve nightshirt decorated with flying brooms. Even the nightcap had the same moving pattern. He didn't have time for wonderment, though, as his news was of the utmost urgency.

"Professor Dumbledore, I-"

"My, my, my, is it you, Harry?"

"I had a vision, and-"

The door opened again, and the Headmistress entered, holding the intrusion warning device. She saw the boy and her eyes opened wide, before a barrage of question was thrown his way. It was surreal, as he had urgent news, and they didn't even listen to him. In anger, he released a short wave of lightning, shouting "QUIET!"

In the stunned silence that ensued, he talked to them both, in a rapid speech, telling them a summary of his vision, Voldemort and his new body, the targets and the delays. Looking at his watch, he breathed "They will apparate there in five minutes."

Understanding the urgency as well, Dumbledore grasped his wand and a strange medallion in a shape of a phoenix. Thinking about it, he looked at McGonagall for a second, before throwing the medallion to her. A silent conversation took place for a second and then Dumbledore left through the fireplace, heading towards the Auror Headquarters. Despite the urgent news, his arrival there would be talked about for a long time.

After Dumbledore left, McGonagall put the medallion on, and pressed it in a certain way. It began to glow, and she then seemed to wait for something, while looking at Harry. They looked at each other uneasily, before he addressed her.

"I... I have to go, Professor."

"Where, Harry?"

"I can't say."

She frowned. Normally, her students were always quite obedient, and seldom refused to answer such a direct question.

"You know you can't wander around without protection, Harry."

He looked at her in incredulity. How could she say that? Painful memories came up, before he squashed them away. Last summer, he had been sent to a wretched house for his protection. And from the moment he had woken up on that dump afterwards, he had lived without protection, and everything had been fine. If the concept of protection in the wizarding world entailed being beaten and abused, it sure wasn't a world he wanted to live in. And he wouldn't bring news such as tonight.

He expressed his thoughts to her, noticing with satisfaction that her face paled considerably in the process. When she was fumbling for a chair to sit, he talked to her again, this time more calmly.

"You can't restrain me, and that's why I'll come back later. But if you, or anyone of authority, try to restrain me, I'll leave for good. I'd be sad to miss my magical education, but I can live without." He smirked. "After all, I lived ten years being belittled, and now that I spent a full year of freedom in the muggle world, I could be tempted to consider it my safe haven."

It hadn't been his intent to leave that way, but, thinking about it while lying on his hideaway bed, it was perfect. On these thoughts, he fell asleep quite swiftly. He wasn't to sleep peacefully, though, as he was plagued by nightmares. They started with a magical battle between Death Eaters and Aurors in Diagon Alley, quickly joined by another team of wizards in which he recognized a few members of the Hogwarts staff. Avoiding the skirmish, the Death Eater fled, and the nightmare ended in several rounds of Voldemort venting his anger at his unsuccessful followers.

When Harry woke up afterwards, he reflected on these nightmares. Contrarily to the other one where he had been warned of the attack, these were very slow, and, although it made them longer, the pain in his head was lowered as well. Taking in his surroundings again, he concluded that it must have been an effect of the skewed time frame of his hideaway. He smiled. If the now receding nightmares were accurate, Voldemort's troops hadn't been able to inflict any corporeal damage to anyone, thanks to his warning.

He rose, stretched, and looked at his watch, trying to estimate the time outside. Even if he was more and more able to do the computation, it was always time-consuming, and he imagined that a special clock could be installed in the rooms to always give the outside time. Thinking about this, he also remembered the kind of job his grandmother did, and it opened new thought avenues, some of them including the action of reading each and every book currently in his bookcase, to be able to build the clock by himself.

As he was looking towards his bookcase, he remembered that there was a box on top of it, and fetched it. He put his hand on the lid again, and took it back when the usual spark appeared.

"That's stupid," he said aloud, "it's my element, it can't harm me."

He tentatively put his hand on the lock, eliciting a harmless continuous lightning between his hand and the locking mechanism. Seeing that he wasn't affected by it, he tried to open the lock, but to no avail. He could try to melt the lock using his element, but he preferred not to damage his grandmother's property, as there could be a key of some sort in his vault.

His vault!

He would have to go to Gringotts tomorrow, and check if he could enter it without his key.

He took a long hot shower, clearing his thoughts in the process. After a quick breakfast thanks to his magical plate, he decided to get information about the current state of the magical world, and the first step in this was to get Luna's pack of letters and Daily Prophet issues. He checked the outside time again. 4am, good. He portkeyed to his bedroom at Joan's place, one of his pre-programmed locations, and took hold of his letters. While moving around, though, he was suddenly startled by a rapping at the window. Opening it, he saw Hedwig, who hooted indignantly at being kept outside for so long.

He tried to calm her, unsuccessfully, before remembering why he had come back. Taking Hedwig with his ring hand, and his papers in the other, he went to his Hideaway again. Needless to say, the owl was kind of frantic to live in a place without windows. A bit of bacon and water from the magical plate contributed in calming her, though, leaving Harry alone to read in the bed.

The Daily Prophet was mostly as usual, he reflected, remembering about his Parselmouth ability and the chaos that had ensued after its discovery. The wizarding newspaper was always focusing on sensational events, pushing important, but less sparkling, ones in the latest pages.

Luna had astutely marked the most interesting articles, and he browsed through the story of the change in Minister, gawking at Malfoy's participation to it, and laughing at the story of how he had been uncovered. He was also very happy to find that Ron's family was better now. Through Luna's timetables, he learned more about the changes in the Hogwarts staff. He finished by opening an envelope on which his friend had written 'to read last – emotionally charged.'

Inside was only one page, visibly ripped from a copy of the wizarding newspaper that had been issued in the late summer of the previous year. It titled 'Sirius Black innocent' on the whole page. Intrigued about it, as the name had appeared in the Hogwarts staff list, Harry read.

And cried.

And read again.

And cried again.

The story was complete, explaining the role of Peter Pettigrew and his recent disappearance from the Death Eaters ranks, disappearance explained through an interview of one of the recently captured Death Eaters. An excerpt in the paper had drawn the family links between Sirius and the Black family, as well as the Potter family. Finding that Sirius was related to Draco Malfoy wasn't something to make him laugh, but the only family relation between Sirius and the Potters made him sob uncontrollably.

He had a godfather!

Luna had been right about the emotional charge, and he collapsed in the bed, half-crying and half-laughing, sending random sparks of his element around him, until he fell asleep once more emotionally exhausted.

Hogwarts, the following morning...

Sirius Black had been extremely reserved this year. That's how he now considered himself to have lived in the previous months. He had come to grips with his wrongful captivity, and with the drinking habit that had ensued. With the help of his friend Remus, and with some potions helpfully brewed by a reluctant Potion Master, he was now quite healed. He could show his cleanly shaved face at breakfast for the first time in months. Of course, the fight with the Dementors had awakened difficult memories, but it had also given him a drive to fight, now that he had a wand. He now had a stronger hold on himself.

When he arrived in the Great Hall, it was quite early. An exception, for him, but the approaching full moon had compelled him to sleep in the Shrieking Shack, the supposedly haunted house in Hogsmeade, with his werewolf friend Remus. He hadn't slept at all, but was still alert. Anyways, he was going to take a nap that day before going with his friend again the night afterwards.

Upon reaching the staff table, he remarked that not many professors were there. And he almost turned back outside when he saw that one of them was Severus Snape. Leaving would have meant he was weak, though, and he didn't want to appear weak in front of his nemesis. He sat down, and began to pile food in his plate, under the inquisitive look of the Potion Master. After a few minutes of eating silently, Snape stood up, and turned around the staff table to head outside. On his way, though, he dropped a small parchment near Sirius' plate.

Suspecting a prank, even if he had calmed himself due to his decade of torment, Sirius turned the paper upside down with his cutlery.

Join us at the Headmistress office at 10, we have information about Harry.

He looked at the note in disbelief. Who were the us? Why did they have information about Harry? And why now, when he had come to grips with his life? He was tempted not to go, but reflected that the message had been given without Snivellus' usual sneer, and the meeting place was neutral territory. He finished his meal, and went to straighten the rooms he shared with Remus. He then read a few pages of a muggle book until the meeting time came.

In the room, facing the entrance, were Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape. When he closed the door, though, he also remarked that a few students were there as well. Even if he hadn't met them between classes, he knew that Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had been friends with his godson. He had also been told that Ginny Weasley had been close to him, and that Megan Prunner looked like him. What they were doing there, though, was a complete mystery to him. He looked at Dumbledore, and, while surprised at the old man's bandage on the ear, asked about his reason for being there.

"Albus, Sni... Severus here told me that you had information about... about Harry?"

"Yes, Sirius. Please sit down and most importantly, stay calm. Severus?"

The Potion Master took a vial from his pocket, and put it in front of Sirius before standing. "In this vial is what we call the Elixir of the Clear Mind. It's a bit complicated to brew, but it has the double effect of helping the imbiber to reconstruct their memories from fragments, and also to calm the person as well. It allows them to bring forth painful memories in detail without the distressing effect." He then sneered, and launched, quickly "To extract the same kind of information, there is also Legilimency, although it's harmful, dangerous, and takes time, but-"

Dumbledore interrupted his Potion Master. "Thank you, Severus. Can you tell Sirius why you think his mind has what we want?"

Sirius was a little uneasy at the whole exchange. "Wait a minute! I thought you had information about Harry?"

Dumbledore flashed his usual benign smile. "Yes, we have, but we have to confirm something before telling you everything. Please, drink up."

Sirius uncorked the vial, and smelled it tentatively. To his surprise, contrarily to most potions, that one didn't have a bad smell. In fact, it didn't have a smell at all. He lifted it in a movement encompassing the whole room. "Cheers." And drank it.

He instantly went rigid, his eyes glazed. The effect on the body was the same as the Veritaserum, blocking almost all physical reaction. The potion's aim was different, though.

Snape took charge of the discussion, while everybody sat up, intent on listening. Megan especially, as she had been briefed on the questions beforehand. And warned about the possible answers.

"Black, you hear me?"

"Yes, Snivellus."

Snape glared around to quiet the snickers that had erupted at the Potion Master's nickname of old. He couldn't do anything to prevent Sirius to use it, because the man was in his own mind. Quite literally.

"You were the first to enter the house after James and Lily Potter died-"

"I don't know..."

"It wasn't a question."

"Oh."

"Tell us what you see."

"I arrive with my flying motorcycle. Have I ever told you about it, Snivellus? James helped me-"

"We don't want to know about it, Black." Snape interrupted. "Tell us about the house and its inhabitants."

Sirius didn't react to the interruption, and merely continued his recounting. "The door has been blasted open. I rush inside. James looks like he's dead. I saw many Adava Kedavra victims, and he looks like one. There is a fire near the curtains, but I don't notice it."

"Very well, now go upstairs."

"There is some smoke, I don't see very far."

"Clear the smoke. See with your mind."

"There is a body lying on the corridor floor, near a big dent in the wall. It's Voldemort! It looks as if he had been thrown violently from the bedroom. The smoke comes from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. I don't feel well in the smoke. It's like I'm inside someone's mind. Someone dark."

"Does the smoke move?"

"It moves in circles around the body, trying to enter it again, but it can't. After a while, it leaves the house through a broken window."

"Go in the bedroom, now."

Despite the potion, Sirius' expression became distressed. "Oh my god! That's horrible! There is blood on the floor. Lily is there, and it looks like she had been... gutted. A knife rests on the floor, bloodied too."

"What happens next?"

"Nothing for a while. The silence is unnerving. I think that I have to Apparate away from the fire that had now reached the stairs, when I hear a baby crying. I move toward the sound, and I notice that it comes from the hamper. Either Lily hid little Harry in there, or he had been thrown in it after she died. Either way, he has a strange scar on his forehead, in a shape of a lightning bolt. And it's bleeding, poor Harry."

"What do you do?"

"I take Harry, and I cry. I will take him to Dumbledore. He will know how to protect him. I leave."

"Wait! Come back to Lily."

"I don't want to. There's blood everywhere."

"I know. How much time had elapsed since you last saw her?"

"I was seeing James regularly, but I remember, now, that she hadn't been to our meetings for some time before she... died. I guess it was six or seven months. I also remember that, in the last meeting I saw her, she was bitching James quite a lot. I made a few jokes about it to Peter and Remus."

Severus Snape was quite aghast at the implication of it, as were the other listeners. Shaking himself, the Potion Master talked again.

"Thank you, Sirius. You can come back, now. You gradually leave the memory, which will return to its previous state in your mind. We are in the Headmistress office. Wake up... Wake up!"

Sirius eyes closed, then snapped open.

"What happened?"

"You told us about the fact that Lily Potter might have been pregnant when she had been attacked, and that the baby had been stolen. I have an idea about who did that to her, but I have to check many things to confirm it."

Dumbledore rose. "Thank you, Severus, Sirius." He then turned towards Megan. "In the meantime, you can perhaps ask your parents about it? I mean, your adoptive parents, obviously."

Sirius was quite stunned at the news, but, looking at her with his memory of James and Lily, he could only agree that she could have been their daughter. Like the photos he had seen of Harry, she had her mother's vibrant green eyes and her father's messy hair. He shook himself awake, and asked the question for which he had come here initially.

"So... what about Harry? Did you unearth his body to find that he wasn't James and Lily's son, like in badly written muggle stories?"

Everyone looked at him apologetically, and the ex-convict became nervous.

"Sirius..." began Dumbledore, capturing the man's attention before delivering the blow. "Harry's alive."

Sirius had always prized himself to his ability to never be surprised. However, that little sentence pushed his mind so far that he recoiled, eyes and mouth wide open. And he fainted.

Looking at the collapsed form of his colleague, Snape muttered "That sure is a moment to remember."

To be continued in next chapter: Girl Friends and Girlfriends...

They speak about aftermath,
And Harry's friends do the math.
Will they see him again soon,
Or shall he stay at his school?