Alright, time for the usual disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any other of J.K.'s characters. Though I desperately wish I did.

Spoilers for book five, which I'm relatively sure everyone's already read anyway. Onto the chapter!

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Harry took a breath, hands shaking in anticipation. His palms were sweaty and his stomach felt like it was turning in knots. Swallowing the lump of nervousness that suddenly rose in his throat, he placed a calloused hand on the book before him.

A year and a half.

A year and a half he'd spent studying, researching, spending every second he could spare on this spell, and it all came down to this. Harry's fingers grazed the page in an almost reverent gesture. The book was Hermione's, one she'd found while researching the dark arts, one she thought she'd misplaced.

He knew from the start that he couldn't ask for help. This was forbidden magic, and had he looked to any of the Order members, Harry was sure they would have taken the book, and most likely included a lengthy lecture about the importance of letting go. But Harry had always refused to believe it.

Sirius wasn't dead.

He just wasn't. And nothing that Lupin, or Ron, or Hermione, or anyone else said was going to change that. Because Harry knew. He couldn't explain how, but some part of him just knew, and that's why it had come to this.

Rare and dangerous ingredients, shopping in Knockturn Alley, months of careful planning and tonight was the night. Harry shut his eyes for a brief moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He could almost smile at the irony of it, Harry himself could not have picked a more perfect night to do it.

Sirius's birthday. His mind supplied, and his heart twisted painfully at the thought. The waiting was agony. Every second dragged on, seeming to stretch for an eternity, but it was nearly midnight, and with each passing minute, the mixture inside the cauldron brightened.

Harry reached out for the sliver dagger, admiring it in half exhaustion, half apprehension. Casting another glance at the book's worn and yellowing pages, the dark haired boy took a shallow breath and placed the cool blade to his palm, hesitating for a fraction of a second before slitting the skin.

The pain was not nearly as bad as he had expected. Watching as blood welled up from the wound, he blinked, bringing himself back to reality and the task at hand, as he placed his hand over the cauldron. The blood dripped off of his outstretched hand, hitting the liquid below with a low hiss.

After adding the final ingredient, say your target's name aloud, and repeat the following incantation at the stoke of midnight. Your desired target will then be returned to life, at which time, they must be given the amulet you chose. The amulet is to be worn at all times, 'else your target will be returned to death within the following 24 hours

Harry looked up from the book, eyes locked on the clock above him.

Just a few seconds longer now…..

He bit on chapped lips, heart racing; he could swear it was it was about to burst out of his chest- and the clock chimed.

Midnight.

"Sirius Black" Harry announced, eyes immediately on the bubbling cauldron, which had turned a brilliant shade of red at the outburst. Whirling back to the book, Harry scooped it into his arms, words rushing out too fast for him to really even process what he was saying.

Sirius was coming back. He was going to be alive again. Fully alive.

He's coming back.

His mind chanted, screamed. He's coming home.

"Death relentless - Release your hold. Warm the blood - That now runs cold

For life you wanted - I now give. You may have died, - But now you live"

The room suddenly seemed to hum with electricity, and Harry felt as though hundreds of tiny needles were pricking his skin all at once. Looking down frantically, Harry was shocked to find that he was indeed bleeding, the stinging sensation spreading all over his body.

Blood welled up from invisible needle marks, and Harry had to struggle to choke back a scream. He knew idly, somewhere in the back of this mind that he was losing too much blood, and the room suddenly seemed to spin, black spots dotting his vision.

Before he could even think to call for help, the sudden heat overwhelmed him, and the boy collapsed, glasses knocked across the wooden boards. Laying on the floor, voice stolen from his throat, Harry's head throbbed in excruciating pain. Desperate for some sort of comfort, his head turned to the window, where emerald eyes beheld a blood red moon before slipping into unconsciousness.

Miles away, a spell had found it's target, whispering through stone halls and rushing towards a hidden room.

From beyond the veil, a scream of pure pain erupted, bathing the room in tortured wails. Crimson light surged beyond the fabric, winding around the icy skin of the spellcaster's target. The dark-haired man was overcome by an agony he had never before felt as the tendrils of light carried him past the veil, delivering him back into the Department of Mysteries, the room he'd last seen over a year ago.

Then as suddenly as it had started, the pain stopped, and the light abruptly vanished, leaving the pale man in darkness. He laid sprawled on the floor for a few moments, sensation slowly returning to his body, making him all too aware of the marble floor beneath him, and the tingling in this arms and legs.

Sitting up slowly, brilliant blue eyes regained their focus, making out distinct shapes in the unlit room. He stood, raking slender fingers through ebony hair, long bangs brushed off of slightly pointed features before being tucked behind an ear.

Hesitant and uncertain, he took a breath, a soft smile gracing his face when he felt his chest swell with air. A melodic laugh broke loose, relief and joy unable to be contained any longer.

Sirius Black was alive.

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