Disclaimer: It isn't mine! None of it is mine! Deal with it!

'Sirius.'

The voice echoed round the head of the man lying slumped against the cold stone archway. He stirred and almost imperceptibly shook his head as though to clear it. The voice sounded urgent but excited, and the man's eyelids twitched as he heaved himself out of unconsciousness. His head was pounding and he didn't recognise the room he was lying in through half-open eyes, but there was definitely something familiar about that voice.

He sat up, opened his eyes fully and looked about him. The room was shaped like an amphitheatre, circular with stone benches all around the outside in levels. But there was no one there.

'Sirius Black!'

He frowned, trying to remember where he had heard that voice before. Flashes of his life came flooding back to him, battling for space in his head with the blood still beating through it. He was Sirius Black ... That voice ... it belonged to ... his godson ... Harry ... the mirror ...

Sirius plunged his hand into his pocket and withdrew a small, dirty square of glass. He caught a glimpse of Harry's face before the view tilted and he saw the ceiling of the room Harry was in whizz past. There was a crash that echoed about the empty room and the mirror broke in his hands.

Sirius jumped and dropped the shattered glass in shock, smashing it into even smaller pieces. He cursed and started to pick them up.

As he leant forward to pick up a large piece of glass, a stark white piece of paper fell to the floor, not with the yellow tinge of parchment. Muggle paper, he thought. It had writing on one side, the swirly characters written in black ink that didn't look like it had been formed with a quill.

So I'm crazy am I? They didn't believe me; they said my brains had been addled by my monstrous experience. I told them, again and again that they were mistaken, that they had the wrong man, but who would believe a lunatic? Not Cornelius Fudge, that is for sure. I have no faith in our race any longer. If they will put away an innocent man without a trial, and not listen to any defence, crazy witness or not, then I do not want any more to do with them. I shall withdraw myself from their vicious society. I have no need of my wand. If I am as mad as they think I am, they will not find this disturbing. I doubt anyone will even notice ...

But would they notice if I vanished for ever? I doubt that too. And if they do, it will be no loss. One less crazy person to care for, they will say ...

I have thought, and I won't end it now. I figure there must be a reason for me to make this choice. A reason the Fates haven't informed me of yet. But there will be a reason. It will give me an aim in life - to live until this important day comes. It will be a life without him, true, but it is something to live for ...

---

I wrote this seventeen years ago in my diary. The Fates finally told me what that duty was. I Saw you fall through the veil, and I was shown that my job is to sacrifice myself for you. My life has been ruined, but yours, while disrupted, is still whole, and you have a lot to live for. Your godson would die inside if you did, and you still have to avenge your best friend's death.

You see, I knew. I watched you all the time, although you probably never noticed. I knew where you were, and I also knew that you were innocent. I tried to make the Wizengamot see reason. I told them I knew you were innocent. But to take the words of a mad woman seriously is too appalling for them to imagine. I saw my whole family murdered, and only escaped because I was hiding on the attic mourning for the love I never had, and now never shall. They imagined that this had 'addled my brains', as I was told when I was pleading your case, but what they never knew was the grief I was suffering, and still am.

I only hope that you will be happy, for though my life will not have been wasted in vain - it never would for you - I would be happier in my death knowing that you will be happy to have lived, for Harry as much as for yourself.

All my love, for eternity,

Cassandra

P.S. Keep the Cloak

Sirius stared at the letter for what seemed like hours. He felt dizzy, and he wasn't sure whether it was the contents of the letter or his headache.

He stood up unsteadily, catching the Invisibility Cloak as it fell away from him and leaning on the stone archway for support. The stone felt cold and even clammy to his touch, and he felt a strangely strong urge to step through the fluttering veil. But then he remembered the urgency in Harry's voice and removed his hand quickly.

Taking a last look round to check that he had everything, Sirius staggered off the dais in the general direction of the door. His head was hurting so much his vision kept blacking out but he forced himself on. He didn't like the presence of the archway, nor did he feel particularly comfortable listening to the whispers of people - or things - unknown.

As he reached the door, he could hear people moving behind it. Remembering that he was a wanted man, he decided it would be better for him to remain unseen and flung the Invisibility Cloak around him. Very slowly he opened the door.

It opened into another circular room with a black floor and ceiling and walls lined with doors. A door exactly opposite him was just closing, and he could hear footsteps receding up the corridor. As quick as a flash, Sirius whipped round, pointed his wand at the door he had come through and bellowed 'Flagrate!' A fiery 'X' fixed itself to the door just as the walls began to spin.

'And old Moony told me I never listened to him,' said Sirius ironically as he waited for the walls to slow down. Lupin had used the same charm when they came through, looking for Harry.

Once the walls had stopped, Sirius moved back to the door with the X marked on it and faced the room. As long as the doors themselves hadn't switched places, the exit should be directly opposite him now. He crossed the room and opened the door on the corridor leading to the courtrooms. He cheered silently, and very quietly started up the corridor towards the lift.

'Damn it,' he thought as he reached the lift. 'I can't call the lift without arousing suspicion.'

He sat down against the wall to wait. This time it probably would be hours before he had a chance to escape.

'Remus'd be proud to see me now,' he muttered sourly. Not taking chances. Waiting as his sensible friend would.

If only he knew what had happened. If Voldemort had been rash enough to show himself to the world, Sirius would be able to walk through the Atrium right now, right in front of the people he hated for locking him away. But if, somehow, the saga had gone undetected ... He would be arrested and certainly killed. Sirius sighed loudly and nearly choked as he fought to silence it. Someone was coming up the corridor.

An Unspeakable, he supposed. The man was dressed in dusty black robes and had his nose stuck into a book called The Theory of Conserving Knowledge. Sirius guessed he worked in the room with the brains, but the book's title made him snort with laughter.

'It's called a book?' he said under his breath. Really, there must be something more wrong with him than he thought. He was laughing at the most ridiculous things. He slid behind the Unspeakable and waited for the lift.

Luckily it was pretty much empty - Sirius didn't fancy his chances of squeezing in with lots of people while he was invisible. Could cause a lot of problems. Everyone got out at the Atrium. Must be going-home time, he thought. The Atrium was heaving with people, and he thought it would probably be best to leave it till a bit later before risking the fires. If he tried to Apparate he felt he would botch it in his current condition and end up splinching himself.

Sirius had a mental image of Cornelius Fudge trying to locate the owner of the legs standing in the middle of the Atrium while Remus flapped Sirius's torso in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, interrogating him as to the whereabouts of his legs, and covered his mouth to cover his laughter while he retreated into a dark corner out of the way of workers returning home. To their wives and family.

He was swiftly reminded of the reason he was still here, able to laugh at the idea of a splinched Sirius. He felt tears come to his eyes and he wiped them irritably away, again not sure what had caused them. His head gave an extra hard throb, and he nearly screamed from the pain. He collapsed on the floor and curled up into a tight ball, clutching his head, and passed out.

The long-promised sequel to The Last Seer! Hope it's up to scratch!

I would love to hear any constructive criticism, and hell, any flames, too. They give me a much-needed laugh, so knock yourself out!!

I'm one of the trio, Padfoot, Prongs and Moony; check out our stories - we've got another new one up. Our guarantee is that you will laugh at LEAST once a chapter. Well, I've got to plug it somehow, haven't I?!