A/N: this chapter just frustrated me. Have patience with it, please.

Lost: Small Boy, Answers to Harry

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"Got it!"

"You got it?" Sirius tried to lower his arms, and to his surprise, they lowered. Hestia sat on the edge of the bench grinning at him, holding a length of wire in her hands.

"God, that hurts," Sirius stared at his wrists, which were raw and bloody in a ring where the wire had cut into them. As if barely able to believe his luck, he got to his feet and stretched. His knees nearly gave way at once – he had been sitting on that bench for two days now. He steadied himself, and then raised his arms and spun twice in a circle like a dancer, pirouetting across the room, bouncing off the wall and twirling back to kiss Hestia on the cheek and then circle the cellar twice more.

"Don't get too excited," Hestia warned him, smiling quietly, "I have to wire you back to that pipe before they come down here the check on us."

Sirius sighed and sat back onto the bench, "yes, better do it now. They actually brought me a dish of water yesterday around this time."

While she twisted the wires loosely around his wrists, in such a way that would give the appearance of knots but which could be pulled apart easily, Hestia began to talk seriously once more, "tomorrow. What will you do?"

"What will you do?" Sirius countered, "do you even know where Harry will be? Do you have an idea of how to reach him?"

"The apartment's not big," said Hestia, "if he isn't in one room, he'll be in the other. Tonight, we should try and untie my hands. I'll jump Avery, take his wand, grab the boy – Harry. I'll grab him and jump into the fireplace. I saw where they kept the floo powder yesterday."

"You think you can hold off Bellatrix, Avery and anyone else who is up there, while carrying a toddler in your arms and throwing floo powder onto a fire at the same time?"

"If you help me," she retorted, "what will you do?"

He paused. He didn't want to tell Hestia he was an animagus. It was, after all, a secret he had kept for more than a decade now. He settled with, "I'll make a scene, don't you worry. I just have to get off this iron bench first, it's what's holding me back."

"But you'll be locked down here!"

"I'll make noise," he said, "real loud. When you hear the noise stop, that means they've opened the door to see what I'm doing. Then you try to take Avery. Not until then, or else they won't unlock the door for me."

"Alright."

"I'll come up the stairs and just tear into them. You won't recognise me, but just trust that I'm not going to hurt you. Most especially, don't wait for me. All that matters is getting Harry out."

She nodded, "and you'll do all this without magic?"

He grinned, "I'll do it all without my wand, that much is sure."

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When they awoke in the morning, Perkins was dead. Hestia and Sirius laid him in the corner of the room and covered his face with his jacket. Neither of them had any time to shed a tear for him, but Sirius could hear Hestia muttering the names and messages Perkins had given her for his family under her breath.

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It happened just as before. Avery came, grabbed a struggling Hestia, paused to taunt Sirius, and then slammed the door and locked it. Sirius waited for nearly a minute, wanting to leap to his feet at once, but he forced himself to wait.

Once he could stand it no longer, he wriggled his wrists out of the loose wire, accidentally tearing at the raw skin so that he had to bite back a cry. He got off the bench and knelt on the concrete, trying to rid himself of the awful magic-sapping iron taste. Then he transformed.

Sirius was gone. There was only a huge black dog, lying on the floor, panting nervously. The dog rolled over and got to its feet. The dingy, empty cellar was suddenly alight with smells, human smells and the stale scent of Perkins' body, which was not quite cold yet. After a moment, it tipped back its head and began to howl. It was an enormous sound, reverberating up through the floorboards and into the apartment above.

The dog howled again, and again, changing pitch and tone and interspersing the symphony with loud barks. For a while, the dog thought that no one was coming – its plan to escape had failed – but, at last, it picked up a change in the tone of the voices, and then footsteps on the stairs. It kept howling. The click of a magical lock, the turn of a door handle, and then the racket ceased.

The door opened and a man the dog did not recognise stood there. He had less than a second before something huge and black, with glittering eyes, leapt out of the darkness of the cellar and slammed into him, knocking him down. His head cracked on the concrete steps and he was out like a light. The dog flew over his body and ran up the stairs four at a time. As it ran, it heard a distant bang and human screams rose. The dog's sensitive ears understood the voices from the apartment above.

"What is it?"

"She spat something – my face – ah, my face, help me, please –"

The dog emerged into a large room, which served as kitchen, living and dining room. A small fire burned in a grate not far away, and a woman in black stood with her back to the cellar. As the dog skidded across the lino floor, the woman jumped back from the doorway. A bolt of red light shot out, flew between the dog's ears and smashed into wall behind it. The woman spun to stare at the dog, pulling out her wand, her long black hair swirling around her like a silk veil. Without hesitation she lowered her wand at the dog and let off a curse.

The dog was lucky. It's thick coat was magic-resistant, and it repelled weak spells if they didn't hit it straight on. This one grazed its ribs and bounced off its shank, and the dog slammed into the woman and its jaws found her arm. She dropped her wand and began to scream for help.

Hestia Jones exploded from the back room, followed by a man who was barely recognisable as Avery, staggering after her. He had closed his eyes when the marble had exploded in his face, so he had not been blinded, but his cheeks were burned and shredded and there was very little left of his nose. Red blood mixed was spittle was dribbling out of the holes in his cheek. He fell face down in front of the fire and began to moan. Hestia Jones looked at the dog, then turned and flew to the other door, just as it was thrown open and a third man emerged, waving a wand and yelling.

Hestia skidded to the floor and crouched down behind a sofa as curses exploded all around her. The dog released its hold on Bellatrix, and was at the man's throat in a second. But he was a big man and he managed to get his arm up to protect his face. He fired curses over the dog's shoulder that singed its fur. While the two struggled on the floor, Hestia leapt clean over them both and ran into the room.

The dog was struck by a spell that gave it a great jolt like an electric shock, and it jumped back, yelping and growling. Bellatrix was on her feet, wand in hand, and the point wavered, pointing at the dog, then switching to the door of the room, and then to the crackling fire in the grate above Avery's fallen form. She whispered something and jets of water sprayed out of the tip of her wand.

The dog howled and leapt at her, knocking her down once more, but the damage was done. The fire was well and truly extinguished, and with the wood sodden wet, it would take time to relight even with magic. Hestia appeared in the doorway of the room that the third man had been guarding, carrying what looked like an armful of blankets and taking in the whole scene at once. A pair of small arms were clinging to her neck.

The third man raised his wand to curse her but she got a disarming spell in first. As the man turned to grab his wand, Hestia pointed Avery's wand at the sofa and it shot across the room and crashed down on top of him. She scrambled past him, still carrying her precious burden, and threw herself at the front door. It was locked. She pointed her wand at the window and it flew open. Bent over the heavy bundle, Hestia began to clamber out.

"No!" Bellatrix shot a hex at the dog, which rolled off her with a whine, and she stumbled to her feet, "no!" she screamed, firing stunning spells at Hestia's legs, which were disappearing out the window. The dog sunk its teeth into her ankle and she tripped, but managed to keep her balance. Hestia vanished.

"You-" rage twisted Bellatrix's heavy features and she swept her wand across the dog's side. A slash opened up on its flank, a wound that looked as if it had been made by a large sword. The dog howled and twisted on its back. The third man was on his feet and leaning out the window, and then dashing to the door. It took him several seconds to remember the spell to unlock the door, then he was and running after Hestia. But he was a large man and it was clear she was too far gone. The death eater that had been knocked out on the stairs surfaced, clutching his head and staring around in bewilderment.

Bellatrix stood over the dog, her wand aimed at its head. She muttered some words and the dog contorted, whining, and was suddenly not a dog any more, but a man.

Sirius lay on his back, clutching his side, looking up at Bellatrix's trembling wand tip. The cut across his ribs was shallow but it hurt like fire and blood was seeping out between his fingers. He waited for Bellatrix's curse.

"Want death, cousin?" the dark-eyed woman hissed, "want me to kill you now? It's all I wish at this moment. But you must be a fool if you think I would put you out of your misery so quickly," she spat at him, "you, you traitorous, mud-screwing beast, will meet your end as slowly as I can arrange it," she was shaking with rage.

Sirius managed a faint smile, "doesn't matter," he replied weakly, as the death eater who had tried to chase Hestia down the street appeared at the doorway, panting, "I don't care now. Harry is safe."

"Harry?" Bellatrix's eyes widened, "you think you saved Harry?" and she began to laugh, high and huge bellows of laughter.

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Muggles on the street stared at the young woman who dashed past them, carrying what appeared to be a heavy bundle of blankets in her arms. Her face was red and singed as if it had been burnt, and she was filthy, bloody, her clothes torn and tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Some of the muggles saw that there was a child in her arms, and clicked their tongues disapprovingly.

At last the exhausted young woman slowed and stood, trembling. She raised her head to look up at the old-fashioned red-brick department store looming above her. A sign on its front declared "Purge & Dowse Ltd." in huge green letters.

The young woman heaved the bundle higher on her hip. The boy still clung to her neck, but he was dozing now, and she could hear his quiet little snores. "Almost there," she told him, and pressed her hand to the front window of the department store.

"Emergency," she said, "please. I have a sick child here."

No muggles were watching when she disappeared a moment later, but they would not have believed their eyes anyway. After all, a young woman cannot simply melt through a glass window.

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Hestia staggered into the foyer of St Mungo's. The reception area was not crowded, and as Hestia appeared two green-robed healers, responding to her 'emergency' call, came running to meet her.

"What's happening?" one healer, a grizzled old woman with a jutting chin, took in Hestia's scorched face. "Has there been an explosion? Spell, artefact or potion-related?"

Hestia shook her head, "Harry. This boy, he's sick," she folded back the blanket to show the healer the child's face. The boy blinked sleepily, "he was kidnapped. I don't know what they've done to him."

"Oh, you poor dear," the second healer, a rotund woman with wide blue eyes held out her arms and took the boy from Hestia, "don't worry, child, you're alright now," she waved her wand in front of his face and said curtly to the older healer, "he's dehydrated but he doesn't seem ill. I'll find him a bed and get him some fluids."

The older healer nodded and grabbed Hestia's arm as the young witch's legs finally gave way. She was guided to a seat which materialised out thin air. Hestia sunk into it and put her head in her hands.

"Now, come on honey, let me have a look at you," the grizzled healer touched Hestia's forehead, "you've got some fine burns on your faces but I don't think there's going to be any scarring. Are you alright, honey? What's your name?"

"Hestia Jones," the young woman said, and the healer was alarmed to see that she was beginning to cry. Well, it was a natural reaction to any traumatic situation, "I'm Hestia Jones. I had to leave a man behind, and now…I'm afraid for him…he could be dead, or they could be hurting him…"

The healer helped Hestia to her feet and supported her as she limped across the room, "you tell me all about it while we fix you up, honey," she said seriously, "I'm Healer Madison. We're just gonna to take you for some tests, make sure you haven't been hit by any lingering curses. You say someone's being held against their will? Do you want me to call the aurors? Minister Moody has asked us to report anything-"

"He is an auror," sniffed Hestia, "I am too. And what to you mean, Minister Moody?"

"An auror?" the healer stopped and stared at Hestia, "but then, you must know – Alastor Moody has declared himself the new Minister for Magic. He's taken control of all ministry branches."

Hestia frowned, "how can he do that?"

"He's just done it. Now, if you let me take a closer look at your-"

"Moody? He's taken over the ministry?" Hestia shook her head, "why?"

Madison shrugged, "you're a couple of days behind the times, honey. The ministry's all gone. Moody's just taking charge of what's left."

"Why Moody? Why not Scrimgeour, or someone other politician? Moody already has enough responsibilities running the aurors."

"Scrimgeour was too late. Moody snatched it up first. But it's driven a rift between Moody and Dumbledore…" she lowered her voice, "Rumour is, Moody is demanding Dumbledore's cooperation for a full-frontal attack on Voldemort, and Dumbledore is refusing to put his weight behind it…but, that's just what I heard…"

Hestia's eyes widened, "Dumbledore! I have to contact Dumbledore," she looked around and her eyes alighted on the portrait of Dilys Derwent, Healer and ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts, on display not far away and rushed off towards it. Healer Madison watched in bemusement as she began an avid conversation with the portrait. After a few minutes Derwent seemed to reply coolly and vanished out of her frame. The healer shook her head sadly, muttering to herself "well, shock makes you do some strange things."

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Healer Wenceslas carried the young boy to a quiet ward and flicked her wand to summon a few potions and a change of clothes.

"There we are, dear," she said as she pulled the hospital pyjamas over his head, "what's your name, sweetie-pie?"

"N-neville," the boy sniffed, rubbing his face.

"Well, Neville, looks like you've had a rough time. But we'll get you cleaned up and back to your mama and papa, alright?"

Neville sniffed again, "really? I can see Mum and Dad again?"

"Of course, chicky. Now, you take a few sips of this and then we'll get some fluids into you," she poured out a few spoons of pink syrup from a dark glass bottle and held the medicine glass out.

Neville pushed the glass away with a cry, "no, no, I won't have any more! I hate it!"

Healer Wenceslas managed to steady the glass before the medicine slopped out the top, "it's alright, Neville, it's just to help buck you up. It won't hurt you."

Neville curled up and began to cry, "I want Mum and Dad!" he sobbed, "I want them now! Don't make me have any more potions!"

Healer Wenceslas felt a crease of concern form on her forehead. She put the medicine glass down and sat on the bed next to Neville, "I don't understand, honey. Where did your Mum and Dad go? The nice woman who brought you in here said that you'd been kidnapped."

"They…they didn't go anywhere," Neville choked, "they didn't help me when the bad men took me away. They got hurt so they didn't help me. I want mummy…"

Healer Wenceslas put one large arm around the frail body, wondering whether a sleeping spell wasn't in order for the distressed child, "we're going to find your family Neville, don't you worry," she patted his head, "you just have to trust us. Hmm?"

As her hand disturbed Neville's fringe Healer Wenceslas saw something odd hidden beneath the hair. Curious, she gently lifted up the soft baby hair and to her surprise saw that there was a dark slash down his forehead. It was not a recent wound, since it seemed to have formed a neat scar, but the Healer clicked her tongue in worry. What an odd shape – a perfect lightening bolt. Such a scar surely wasn't the result of a childhood accident. To the trained healer's eye, it looked more like a magical wound.

Before she could dwell on the peculiar scar, Healer Madison bustled into the room to bring a potion to another patient. Her eyes falling on Neville, she barked, "how is he?"

"Frightened," Wenceslas replied, "his name is Neville. I haven't got much else."

Unscrewing the cap of an enormous medicine jug, Madison asked, "Neville what?"

Wenceslas bent to look at Neville, "honey, what's your last name?"

Neville sniffed, "Longbottom. I'm Neville Longbottom."

There was a loud smash as the huge medicine jug slipped out of Madison's hands and shattered on the floor of the ward. She stared at the boy, "Longbottom, you say?"

Neville nodded mutely.

Madison stepped over the spilled potion, grabbed Wenceslas by the arm and marched her out of earshot. Wenceslas protested, "what is it? What's wrong?"

"Longbottom. Neville Longbottom – he's dead. A month ago," Madison babbled as quietly as she could, "it was in all the papers, didn't you see? I went to school with his grandmother. Dead. Not the grandmother. The parents, and him."

Wenceslas shook her head, "you must have got confused somewhere."

"I went to the funeral!" Madison hissed, "I saw their bodies. The boy – they found what was left of him in the house incinerator. Or they thought they did – it was never – really – checked. That the body in the incinerator was their son's. Oh, Lord, Mary, that boy's been missing for a month. His parents were killed by you-know-who – don't you see…what must have happened?"

Wenceslas just stared, "this can't be possible."

"It is possible. And that woman that brought him in – she's an auror. She must have been captured when the Ministry fell."

Wenceslas took a sharp intake of breath, "we should report this to Minister Moody."

Madison tightened her grip on the younger healer's arm, "no. No – we keep this in the hospital. In think the woman already contacted Dumbledore somehow. The last thing we want is for the two of them to turn up and start a fight in the middle of our recovery ward."

Wenceslas shook her head, "I have a feeling that you're going to get a fight one way or another, Madison."

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TBC