To Walk Through Fire
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and the characters associated with him. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I am not making money off of this story. So please don't sue.
Chapter II: A Fate Worse Than DeathPain.
No agony.
He was in agony.
No it was something beyond.
Every inch of his body was on fire. It was like the Crutiatus curse, only a hundred times worse.
Was he dead?
No.
He hurt too much to be dead. Death was supposed to bring peace right? Or at least he didn't think there was supposed to be any pain. Maybe he was in the Underworld to rot here for an eternity.
No he did not see any flames. He didn't see anything.
Was he dead?
No! He did not want to die. No matter what happened to him, there was still a part of him that did not want to die. Despite the pain, that primitive urge flowed through him. He started to become frantic. He clawed at the darkness, trying to find his way out. It held close to him, like a blanket. It was suffocating him. He couldn't breathe. Maybe oblivion would take him now.
No he must fight! He could not die! He did not want to die.
He clawed through the darkness again. Trying to pull it away from where it clung on his body. It was futile, there was no way he could pull free of it.
He gave one last desperate attempt to pull himself out of the darkness. He gave everything he had left into his effort. Even the searing agony did not pierce through his concentration. He pulled with all him might at the darkness, trying to break through it.
Just when he felt he had nothing left to give, a blinding light appeared.
He closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the fiery pain that ran through his head. He took in calming breaths that sent his ribs into new waves of anguish. He just kept taking in breaths, gulping the air as if it were his lifeline.
The pain in his head slowly started to become bearable. He did not bother contemplating on how the rest of his body was; he seriously did not want to know. Slowly the agony started to dull. It was still painful, but not intolerable, as it had been before.
Harry Potter did not open his eyes again. He was afraid to open them. Frightened of what he would see. Instead he listened. For what, he honestly did not know. He listened for a sound that would tell him where he was.
" . . .Dead sir. There was nothing we could do for them, they were crushed. We could hardly retrieve them from inside the house." A strange feminine voice was saying calmly. "There were no curses on their bodies, they were just crushed. We searched for every curse we could think of."
"A pity that they are dead. We shall have to have a private memorial for them, it was a terrible thing that happened here." A familiar voice said emotionlessly. "One of our own attacking his own family. He shall have to be punished, we can no longer have a mad boy wizard running over the world."
Harry wondered what they were talking about. Were they talking about him? Was he mad? He knew that he was seriously injured and a little insecure. But mad? He wasn't mad, or insane. He opened his mouth to try and correct the man. Only a groan came out. A weak soft groan that could not be heard. Harry tried again, but he did not have the energy to do so. Instead he listened to the man talk. Who was this man?
"It is a shame that we were not able to save his relatives. We should have looked into this case sooner. We should have known that it was Harry Potter who killed Cedric Diggory. Especially with the story he came out with, You-Know-Who coming back and all that. I am sure that he believes that Sirius Black is a very nice man who was innocent." The man muttered darkly to his companion.
"I am sure that he was too, Minister. Did you actually here him talking about You-Know-Who coming back from the dead?" The women asked in awe.
Minister? That meant that this man was . . . Cornelius Fudge. If Harry could have moved he would have jumped up, instead he jerked quickly sending a searing pain throughout his body. Had Dumbledore abandoned him to the mercy of the Minister of Magic? Did his friends care so little that they left him in the care of Cornelius Fudge? The man had wanted to put the blame on him for everything. He had known it ever since that day in the hospital wing, when Fudge had claimed he was crazy. Harry whimpered, maybe it would have been better to die after all.
"Did you hear that?" The Minister asked the woman suspiciously. "It sounded like someone was whimpering."
"The boy, sir. It came from the boy, he is waking up." The woman answered almost anxiously.
Harry heard some movement, but he did not bother opening his eyes, he knew that he did not want to see the man's face.
"Harry." He heard someone whisper his name softly. "It's Okay Harry. Come on now, you can wake up." Harry wanted to swat Fudge away, he did not want to open his eyes. He did not want to listen to the man. Fudge was essentially a liar, who would do anything to keep his good name. Harry could care less about it as he already knew the truth. "Come on boy." The man's voice grew harder. Harry winced, the voice sounded too much like Uncle Vernon's.
He could not help it.
Harry opened his eyes. Not even his Gryffindor courage could have stood up to that voice. Years of ill treatment and a few weeks of ab – no punishments – and Harry automatically responded to the hard voice.
The sunlight was bright. It hurt his eyes, sending fire shooting through his head. He made to move his arm to block out the light, but instead only managed to cause his dull throbbing arm to burn in agony. He hissed in pain and closed his eyes again. Not even for his parents would he open his eyes, it hurt too much.
He heard something move through the pain. In the back of his mind he wondered what was going on, at the moment though, he did not care. He hurt too much to care. Once
again Harry took deep breaths trying to calm the pain. Trying to reach the equilibrium again. It seemed like hours this time though, before the pain started to dull.
Then the Minister's voice came back. "Come on Harry. You can do it. Just open your eyes for us, the light is gone, it won't hurt any more."
Harry did not know whether he could trust the man or not. But the voice was getting more persistent. It was starting to cause a headache in the back of his head. Gathering all the ragged courage he had left, Harry took a deep breath and . . . wished he hadn't as jagged pain pressed into his chest. He ignored it and opened his eyes, fully prepared to feel the fiery pain coursing through his head again.
There was not any fiery pain. There was no more pain then there was before. Harry almost sighed in relief, but stopped himself before he caused his ribs any more damage. It was then he saw the head. Cornelius Fudge was leaning over him, whispering in his ear. The man's body was blocking the sun from view, for which Harry was grateful. The light was just too bright.
Suddenly the man realized that he had actually opened his eyes. The man's eyes widened in surprise as if he had not actually expected Harry to open his eyes.
The brown eyes met Harry's deadened green ones.
"Harry Potter." The man stated, not in greeting, but more as an accusation. Harry did not bother to answer, he did not think that he had the kind of energy it took to talk to the man. It was a waste of breath anyway the man would not listen. Fudge waited for a second than continued. "Can you sit up?"
What a strange question to ask a person who had just been whacked in the head by a brick and had been lying unconscious for hours. Harry did not think he could sit up, not without help anyway. But something inside him still wanted to prove that he was worth the effort, that he was stronger than everyone thought he was. He nodded. Only slightly, but enough that the Minister caught it.
The man did not even help him get up. Harry was forced to push himself up on one weak arm, his left one hurt too much to use. He refused to give up, even after he fell the first time. He would not allow Fudge to see how weak he had become. Harry heaved himself with all his might. He could have sworn it was an hour before he was able to push himself up, but he managed. As soon as he managed to get himself into a sitting position, the world tilted dangerously sideways and started twirling around. Harry closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the twirling and twisting. He concentrated on his breathing, which was harsh once again, even to his ears it sounded forced. It was getting harder and harder to force air out of his lungs. It felt as if his ribs were crushing his chest.
As soon as his breath slowed down, Harry deemed it safe to open his eyes once again.
The world looked totally different from this point of view. Fudge was still crouched down near him, blocking the sunlight out of his face. The man's face was hard, cold and accusing. There were several others behind Fudge, all dressed in robes of dull earth colours. They all looked at him accusingly too. Though pity decorated a few faces. Harry did not recognize one of them.
He turned his gaze back to Fudge. The man looked at him for a second. "Mister Potter do you recall what happened here this morning?"
Harry decided against shaking his head, that would only make his world spin once again, he did not think he could stand that anymore, his stomach was already churning enough. "No." He managed to croak out to the man.
Fudge's eyes turned suspicious. "You do not remember anything? Even when you woke up this morning, or went to breakfast?"
Harry thought for a moment. He tried to remember that morning. He hadn't slept last night. No that wasn't right, he had managed to sleep for a few hours then had a strange dream with Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew in it. Fudge would not believe him, so Harry decided not to tell him that. There was something else about that morning. Oh yeah, he had made bacon and eggs for breakfast. Then he had gone to get the mail to give to his uncle. He gave his cousin some chocolate milk – wait wasn't that before he got the mail . . . He did not think it mattered. He relayed this information to Fudge, his own voice was unfamiliar to even his own ears. "Then I went out to do my chores. I decided to do gardening first. When I started to go to the shed the house suddenly blew up." He managed to choke out between breaths. "I think a brick came flying towards me." He added softly in the end. No there was something else that he had not told them. What was – the Dark Mark, he had seen that above the Dursley's house. But how? He did not tell that to Fudge, the man would think him a lunatic, well more so one that he already was.
"Is that all Harry?" Fudge whispered dangerously.
"Yes." Harry muttered softly without shaking his head.
Fudge looked at him suspiciously, as if he did not believe Harry's story. Why he wouldn't, Harry did not know. He had told Fudge everything that he remembered, well everything that the man would want to know.
"Harry, do you remember doing any magic? We found traces of your magical signature all over the house. Then there was the Death Mark above the Dursley's house. Your signature is all over that too." The man asked, almost viciously.
"No, I didn't." Harry pleaded. "Please sir I did not do anything wrong. I was just going outside. I swear I did not do anything wrong." It hurt to talk, but Harry had to relay this information to the man. It was important. He was guilty for many things, including Cedric's death, but he refused to be accused of something he did not do.
"Harry are you sure you do not remember anything else?" The man leered closer towards him, as if to intimidate him.
"No." Harry whispered softly. "That's all that happened."
Fudge stared at him for a second. He then turned around allowing the sun to shine past him. Harry was glad that he was now sitting up, even with the effort it took to stay in that position. The sun did not glare into his eyes this way, it just passed right by him instead.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, what is the verdict?" Fudge asked. "He claims that he did not do anything wrong. But if he was a Death Eater he would not consider killing his victims as something wrong. Look how he twists the words and turns them into something that sounds so innocent. So what is your vote?"
Harry stared at the Minister in surprise. Their vote for what? For him being a Death Eater?! Now that was outrageous, why on earth would he want to be a Death Eater? He wanted to tell him that he wasn't guilty, that he did not destroy the Dursley's house, that he had not done anything wrong. He wanted to beg them not to take him to Azkaban. He knew, beyond a doubt, that he would not be able to stand the prison for more than a few weeks, even without the dementors looming over him. Please no–
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
The voices all called out. Not a single one thought him not guilty. He wanted to beg them that he did not do it. He was not guilty for destroying the Dursley's home. He had not used any magic. He hadn't touched his wand since early this morning, or was it last night?
"Harry Potter." Fudge said still standing. The man was now looming over him, glaring at him coldly, as if he was a dirty mutt found on the streets. "You are guilty on three counts of murder. The murder of Cedric Diggory, the murder of Mrs. Petunia Dursley, and the murder of Mr. Vernon Dursley. You are accused of attempted murder on a Mr. Dudley Dursley. We have reviewed the evidence and it all leads directly to you. You are accused of the use of Dark Magic, and the use of two of the Unforgivables, the Crutiatus curse and the Imperious Curse, used during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We have taken into account the charges. Mister Harry Potter, due to your age we were not able to sentence the Dementor's kiss." Harry almost begged him to reconsider, at least then he would be taken into oblivion, this was a nightmare, even worse than one of Vernon's beatings. "Mister Potter you are sentenced for life to Azkaban."
Harry felt any hope of rescue fade. He was done for, his life was over. He would die in Azkaban, with no one to rescue him. Sirius was not going to come rescue him, he had no hidden family relations that would come take him away from the Dursleys. Every dream, hope and wish he had ever had was shattered. He felt something break inside of him right then, something that even Vernon Dursley, with all his punishment had been unable to break. Something that may never be able to be fixed again.
***************
The man stared at the small boy clutched in his arms. The boy was too small to be fifteen years old. He had seen an eleven year old larger than this boy, an underfed eleven year old at that. It wasn't just the boy's size that worried him. It was the bruises that decorated his face. Minister Fudge had said it was because of the explosion, but the man thought, no knew, that it was something else. Those bruises were too old to be just given to the boy. He knew that. He had always been getting in fights with others. Those bruises were days old. But Minister Fudge was usually right.
The man sighed. He did not like questioning the Minister. He had seen where it had gotten others. He wanted to go somewhere, not just sit at the bottom or be fired. Fudge was usually right. When the Headmaster of Hogwarts had told the students that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, he had spent days reassuring his son that the man was a senile old fool trying to scare the children. How could You-Know-Who be back? It was not possible, even in the Wizarding world it was not possible for the dead to come back. The dead were dead.
He shifted the boy in his arms. Still those bruises were days old. Maybe the boy had hit his head against something. Yes, that was it. The boy had probably been playing some cruel game with his cousin and hit his head on something.
But one of those marks looked suspiciously like a hand. Right on the boy's cheek. He had seen a mark like that before, on his own face in the mirror. His father had given it to him as punishment for something he never could quite remember. It looked almost the same. But it couldn't be. No one would dare hurt the boy. Why on earth would the boy's relatives attack him? They had no reason to, they had a famous wizard living with them. The boy probably was treated with great care, maybe even better than his cousin was. So what was that mark from. Maybe it had been because of a fight he and his cousin had had. From his son he knew that the boy was known to insult Draco Malfoy in the halls, and try to attack the Slytherin. That was probably it.
Then why was the boy so small?
Because, a small voice in the back of his head said, the boy was probably being abused.
The man ignored it and continued on. There was nothing in that house that would indicate the boy was being abused. Nothing at all.
There was another thing that worried the man though. The boy looked suspiciously like someone he known years ago, someone who had been a really good friend. He could not quite place it. The boy did not really look anything like the Harry Potter in the newspapers. Now the boy's facial features were different. If only he could place it. He knew though, that this boy was Harry Potter. The tell-tale scar, lay blandly on his forehead, refusing to be hidden by the tuffs of black hair that fell behind him.
The man shrugged it off, even though he knew that it was going to bother him for days on end. Maybe he would bring out the old photo album and look through that. See if he could place the name.
He slowly walked towards the docks. He really hated going to Azkaban. As a matter of fact, he hated it. Everyone there was raving mad. There had only been one prisoner who had managed to stay sane . . . No he did not want to think of that. He still blamed Sirius for the deaths of Lily and James Potter. Well now everyone in there was mad. He hated listening to their voices cry out in pain at certain memories. Or beg for mercy. He hated their pleas, their begging voices. And most of all, he hated the Dementors. Even though those creatures were moved to different areas when the men came around, he could feel a certain residue in Azkaban, left from the Dementors.
He looked down at the boy. Even if he really did do those crimes – He did a part of his mind shouted – the man pushed that thought away. Even if the boy had done those crimes he was accused of he should not have to suffer behind the bars in Azkaban. He had heard what had happened to Harry Potter when he was near the Dementors. His son, Robby, had written to him then asking about the foul creatures and telling him how Harry Potter had fainted when he met up with them. He honestly did not blame the boy, especially after seeing his parents murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
The man shuttered at that thought. He was glad that he was able to take a vacation after this. He would then be able to spend a month with his son. That was worth a million trips to the Dementors.
He slowed down even more as he approached the ferryman at the dock.
"Mr. Brown, I'm surprised ta see ya so soon." The ferryman muttered. "Ya said ya was na goin' to come bac' agin."
Mr. Alexander Brown, for that is what he was called, grimaced at the man's words. The man was right, he had said that he would not come back again. But there was really nothing the man could do about it. As one of the strongest aurors there was, he was required to take the boy to Azkaban.
"Yes. Minister Fudge decided that the boy should not run free any longer. He is to be situated in Azkaban where he will no longer cause trouble." Alexander said stiffly. He really did not like the ferryman. The man was a squib who had grown up on the docks. The man's accent bothered him greatly, he really did not like spending time in areas like these, where thieves and cutthroats lived.
"Alrigh' if it is Minister Fudge's orders. Le's see th' papers." The man told him, the accent grated on Alexander's nerves.
He shifted the small boy once again and pulled out the papers, placing them into the man's waiting hand. He was careful not to touch the ferryman's hand. This man was almost as mad as those who were kept in prison.
The ferryman just nodded, probably sensing Alexander's dislike for him. He motioned for the other man to walk onto the small ferry and they set off.
Alexander never really liked riding in boats, if on one long enough, he would throw everything he had eaten plus all his organs up. He was thankful that this ferry only traveled a little way. Long enough that he would start to feel queasy, but short enough so that he did not feel like spitting out his guts.
He was glad that the boy in his arms remained unconscious, he did not think he could deal with the boy as well, especially if he started fighting. But Alexander did not think that the boy would start fighting, as a matter of fact he was almost positive that the boy would not fight. He had seen all the fight left in the boy leave him as soon as the teenager had heard that he was going to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. The boy had fainted after that. But Alexander had seen it in the teen's eyes. The young boy had given up hope. He had lost everything that he had ever fought for.
"We're 'ere sir." The ferryman said brining Alexander out of his thoughts.
The brown haired man just nodded and left the small moving boat. He knew that the ferryman would wait for him, he was expected to wait for all aurors no matter how long they stayed there for.
Alexander quickly brought the boy to the office, he did not want to spend any more time with him than he had to.
"Prisoner for Azkaban." He said gruffly to the commanding officer. "A Mister Harry Potter."
The man just nodded. "Follow me." He answered back. At least the man would not waste time.
He followed the short, stocky, bald haired man through the maze of Azkaban. It was a death trap to any who tried to escape. There were curses and spells everywhere. Alexander could feel the magic hovering in the air around him. He shuddered.
Alexander almost closed his eyes and followed the man blindly. He decided against it, since one of the other prisoners could snatch him. That was not a very entertaining situation. He had been there before. He moved away from that memory and concentrated on the commander's back.
He was led down to a small holding area, used for the high security prisoners. Alexander wondered why they would bother. The boy had no fight left in him. He would not bother trying to escape the prison. He knew that he had no hope to survive.
"In there sir." The commander stated formerly, pointing to one of the smallest cells in the corner.
Alexander quickly put the child in the cell. This was the exact place where Sirius . . .NO he would not think of his one-time friend. He placed the child on the bench as carefully as he could. Despite the fact that he believed the child guilty of murder, his paternal instincts kicked in and would not allow him just to throw the boy in the cell.
As he placed the child down, a corner of the too large shirt was pulled away from the child's neck. Alexander froze. He stared at the small patch of skin that was revealed. Around the boy's neck there were bruises that looked exactly like handprints. The man started to breathe faster. Memories came flying back to him. He quickly pushed them away before he had to relive his painful past.
He turned around. He could not look at that mark anymore. Quickly he left the cell, leaving behind an exasperated officer. He ran down the maze that was Azkaban and left through the doors into the sunlight.
Gasping for air, Alexander stopped on the stones. He knew what those marks were, where they had come from. Someone had tried to choke the boy. He knew that the marks on Harry's face were not just bruises from the explosion. Someone had slapped the teen.
He knew what he was going to do. Somehow he did not believe that the child was guilty anymore. He had to prove it somehow.
Alexander ran for the boat. He needed to talk to someone and quickly.
***************
Minister Fudge sat in his office chair. A triumphant smile decorated his face. The fools had actually believed him, they had condemned an innocent boy to life in prison. The fools. How could they even believe that Harry Potter, the boy who had defeated You-Know-Who was a Death Eater? It was beyond him. But it worked. This way he could kill two birds with one stone. The boy would be blamed for everything that went wrong so far, including the attacks that had been recently reported and he would be able to stop Albus from telling the world that You-Know-Who was back. There was no evidence to back the man up. He smiled even more.
Now he would be able to keep his reputation from being destroyed. He liked the power of being able to control the wizarding community. He almost understood why You-Know-Who did what he did. Almost, not quite.
Now all he had to do was make sure that Albus was going to keep fighting You-Know-Who and his evil minions. If the senile old man kept fighting him then none of the public would know what was going on, and they would still trust them.
He had worked so hard to get this position. He would not allow some crackpot old fool and a boy to ruin his chance for greatness. Ruin his chance as a leader. It was a pity he could not use the boy for something else, in some other way. Why would the boy not co-operate with him and just give in, just tell the world that he was telling a lie, that Cedric had died some other way.
But no! The boy had told him a story about the Dark Lord coming back. Oh well, at least the boy had been of some use, just as his godfather had. Fudge grinned. The boy's godfather had conveniently been right where Fudge had wanted him. Oh, he knew that Sirius Black would never kill James and Lily Potter, the man was too loyal to his friends than that. He knew that what Black had said had truth to it. He had used the fear people had against Black. He would make sure he thanked the man just before he was given the Dementor's Kiss. That was when they caught him. Fudge scowled again. That good-for-nothing innocent convict still escaped his clutches. True he was working on other things, but still . . . Fudge grinned. The man was loyal to those he loved and if Fudge had any idea he knew that the convict cared more about the boy than he did about himself. The boy would lure Black out of hiding. That was three birds with one stone. This was just getting better and better.
Now if only he could find some way to discredit Arthur Weasley, that man was gaining too much power, too many wizards were starting to believe him . . .
***************
Alexander passed another nurse. He really did not like hospitals anymore than he did Azkaban, but something about the story was not adding up. He needed information. He needed to know if he had just put an innocent boy into Azkaban. He did not think he could live with that. He quickly strode down the halls of St. Mungo's. Luckily he was an Auror so no one questioned his authority.
Room 112. That was the one he was looking for. That was the one that held Dudley, Harry's cousin. It had been decided by the Minister that the boy would be sent to the hospital until he was well enough, then his memories would be erased. Alexander hoped that it would not be too late.
He pushed open the door, probably harder than he should have, only to come face to face with a large boy with blond hair. Dudley Dursley.
"What do you want?" The boy whispered softly, as if afraid of him. The boy seemed to shrink further into the blankets. Unlike Harry, Dudley seemed very well fed, he actually was quite overweight. The only bruises on the boy's face were from that day, was it really only today that the house exploded?
"I just want to speak with you Mr. Dursley." He said softly. It would do no good if he frightened the boy. He did not want the nurses to interfere with his questioning, if anyone found out then his chance to save Harry would end. "Is that alright?"
The blond boy just nodded.
"Did anyone in your family beat Harry?" Alexander asked. He decided to get right to the point, incase someone came in.
The boy stared at him, going paler than the bed sheets he lay on. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again and again. Alexander could have sworn that he saw the boy shaking underneath the blankets.
"It's alright, I won't do anything to you, I just need to know how Harry came to have those bruises all over his body." He said softly.
"It was dad." The boy managed to finally spit out. "He was fed up with having a freak in the house. He wanted the freak to do his share of the work instead of being lazy. So he started to give him lots of chores to do and as a punishment he would punch Harry and beat him."
Alexander felt his face become pale. So it was true. Harry had been abused. "H-how long has this been going on for?" He asked softly almost afraid of the answer.
"Dad just started to beat him this summer." The large boy mumbled under his breath, trying to dig deeper into the blankets.
Alexander almost sighed in relief. That was until he realized that the boy had lived there for more than a year. "W-what h-happened to Harry before that?" He was starting to fall back on his old habit, that was not good.
"We ignored him mostly." The teenager said almost arrogantly. "Except one year dad locked him in his room and we barely fed him anything. And before he went to that school, we use to lock him in the cupboard." Even as the boy spoke, Alexander felt his face grow paler and paler. The boy seemed to believe that the wizard was becoming frightened, for he started to almost brag about what happened to his cousin. It was then that Alexander realized that the boy was starting to reflect his true colours. The boy hated his cousin. He seemed to enjoy the fact that Harry had received the kind of treatment he did. "This summer he got what he deserved." The chubby boy announced daringly.
Alexander felt anger grow inside him. How dare this boy believe that another human being deserved to be beaten! How could a human be so cruel? Was this what Harry had to live with? Alexander feared it was probably much worse for the boy. He remembered the pictures in the Daily Prophet of Harry, the boy had been trying to leave the picture. He had never really thought about it before, but it made sense. The boy had been ignored for most of his life, told he was 'freak', as his cousin put it, a no good creature, who had been thrown on that family. The poor boy probably just wanted to be left alone.
And Alexander Brown, Auror, had taken him to Azkaban. One of the worst places he could have possibly gone to. Guilt sudden ran through him, as if in his blood stream. He had sent an abused boy to Azkaban. A boy who had spent his entire life being put down. He highly doubted that Harry had created that explosion, it would take years of study to be able to do that and from what the blond boy had just told him, Harry was probably not allowed to do any homework, or read any books about magic, they were abnormal to muggles. There were spells that could be used to cover one magical signature with another. Whoever had blown up the Dursleys' house had probably done that. He had just sent an abused, innocent boy to prison.
He glared at the boy who lay in the hospital bed. It looked as if the boy had been given the lap of luxury, while his cousin slaved away doing chores that would have made even an adult sweat. He gave the boy his best glare, one that stopped his colleagues from asking more questions. The boy turned away, frightened. Alexander knew he would be back, if only to tell the boy off.
He quickly walked out of the room. He wanted to check out his second suspicion. Who was it the boy reminded him of?
As soon as he was out of the brightly lit, whitewashed hospital he apparated home.
***************
Alexander pushed the box away. It was the fifth box he had gone through. There had been old photographs, but not what he had been looking through. He pulled the sixth box towards him. He would have to clean that attic soon, his wife would not, she was busy with her work.
He slowly searched through the box. It seemed almost pointless, especially since the other five boxes had shown nothing but family photos. He pulled out the first few pictures out of the box. They were old. He stared in amazement at them. They were his old Hogwart's photos, the ones he had taken during school. He grinned. He had thought that his wife had thrown them out along with the rest of his 'junk'.
One innocent looking photo caught his eye. A photo with five boys standing around in graduation robes waving at the camera. There he was with the famous Gryffindor quartet, the Marauders, his friends. He looked at James, studying the man, whose son he had just condemned. The boy looked nothing like his father, despite what everyone said. So why did the boy look so familiar. He studied Peter Pettigrew, the smallest of them, who stood timidly waving beside him. He eyes moved to the straight figure beside Peter. Remus Lupin, a werewolf, who stood straight and tall, as if prepared for anything the world could throw at him. He skipped over the picture of himself, he knew what he looked like and besides, he did not want to feel old. His eyes fell upon Sirius Black. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera.
Alexander gasped.
Harry Potter did not look like James Potter. Harry looked like Sirius Black.
So was Harry, Sirius' son? Did Black betray James before that fatal day. No it was not possible, he had seen Black and James together after Harry was born. There was not even a little bit of guilt in Sirius' twinkling eyes. The man looked proud, even more so than James. So what was the true story? Did James know of it all along? Did Sirius really betray James and Lily?
Alexander felt even more guilt flush through him. He knew the answer to that question. He had seen Sirius in Azkaban. The man was innocent; he was not the one to betray Lily and James.
The Auror stared at the picture in fear. The more he learned, the more frightened he became. And somehow he knew that this was not the end of the tangled web of lies and intrigues. He had only begun to unravel it.
***************
"Beware of the tangled web you weave,
When you learn to deceive."
Anonymous
***************
End of Chapter II
A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews. Thank you, thank you, thank you. They are just so encouraging and it makes me want to keep writing more and more. I even managed to finish this chapter quickly.
Death Eater: You really think that the story is that good? I didn't think it was. I noticed that I was put on your favorite story page! I can't believe it. Thank you so much, you do not know how much of a compliment that is. Thank you so much.
Lady of Arundel: You actually reviewed my work? You think it is amazing? Thank you sooooo much. Don't worry, Harry will be saved, eventually. I read your story, Color of Crimson. It's excellent, I loved it. I hope you update soon as I can't wait to see what is going to happen next. I don't like waiting for the next part. What happens to Harry? Is he saved. Please update your story soon.
Evian: You really liked it? Thank you. Don't worry there will be another chapter, soon I hope. I don't know how long I will have to write with homework so I'll try my best to update at least every week.
siriusbpadfoot: Actually the last chapter was suppose to be a part of this chapter, but I decided that since I received so many reviews on the prologue, I would be nice and let everyone read the next part. I know what it is like waiting for another chapter of a story. So since I wasn't done the last part I decided to post anyways and it ended up being a cliffhanger. I don't like cliffhangers either, I'll try not to make too many, but no promises, its just so easy to make them. Thank you soo much for reviewing, I'm glad you liked my story.
The Serious One: You think it is intriguing? Really? I'm speechless. Thank you so much for your compliment. As I have written before, I will try to update as soon as possible.
darkphoenix: You really like where I am taking this story? I hope I didn't ruin it with this chapter. I hope its still good. I wrote this chapter almost in one sitting, so I don't know how well it will turn out.
ratgirl: Thanks for the review. I'm sorry I confused you with the broken arm. I myself have never actually broken my arm, only badly bruised it, so I don't know how someone would fair with that. I will try to fix it as best I can. What happens though is that Harry just keeps it still as much as possible and uses his other arm to do everything. Thanks for catching that, I never realized it before.
katzztar: I'm on your favorite story page too? I can't believe it! Do you really like the story that much? Is it that good? Thank you soooo much. Thank you thank you thank you. You don't know how much that means to me. Thank you so very much.
A/N: Thank you sooooo much (again) for reviewing. You guys are great. The more reviews I have the more that I want to write, so please keep on reviewing. Tell me what you think, suggestions, comments, anything, I'll even accept flames. Please note that Alexander will make an appearance again, he is important to the plot, however it shall only be for a little while, I'm not too find of other characters myself, but he is necessary to the plot. Oh and please feel free to correct me on any mistakes, especially with words from the Harry Potter books, I do not own any copies, so in order to look it up I have to borrow my brother's copies, which won't happen too often.
Thank you again.
Up next: Sirius and Remus return.