Slowly a conscious slipped back into the world, a world it had intended to leave. His eyes were still closed, his breathing didn't change, nothing showed that he was awake. He took a deep slow breath. It smelled clean and a little sharp. The hospital wing Harry thought to himself. Of course. Of course, he would be brought here.

But while he might hide the fact that he was already awake from most, there was one in the world who instantly recognised his rising thoughts. Harry's eyes were still closed but he felt something warm and feathery collide with his face when Dawn rubbed herself against his cheek. Harry opened one blurry eye. All was out of focus without his glasses but still, he could see something like a golden pool staring back at him from a backdrop of black feathers. The room in the back was filled with an orange shine, suggesting that is was the evening sun shining through the tall windows. His one hand rose from the sheets, stinging a little as he raised it up and run it down her back. The phoenix cooed softly, pressing her back against his hand with a gleeful feeling in her mind. The bond pushed it over to Harry, who got a soft and sad smile on his face.

"Hey, girl." He whispered into her feathers, while Dawn cooed again this time a little louder, still gleeful. Harry felt so many feelings from her. Worry, sadness, relief, anger, fear. But more than anything he felt her love for him. If the other feelings were tiny waves, made by a pebble dropped into a still pond so this was a tidal wave. It washed over him and filled him from toes to the spikes of his hair. He hadn't felt this for a long time, he thought. Harry pressed his nose deeper into the black feathers, smiling slightly while his hand caressed the body of his familiar once more. Dawn cooed a third time, rubbing her head against his forehead. For a moment they just were there together, while slowly it returned to Harry what had happened before. Shame washed through him. For what he did. For what he did to his beloved girl.

"'m sorry Dawn." Harry murmured into the feathers, a single tear dropping into the black plumage. Dawn rubbed her head against him once more, cooing. Then she did something she had never done before. Her wings spread and she placed them around his head like a hug would be. Harry remembered the time in the Potions classroom when the Flamel phoenix Ember had done the same with the much smaller Dawn. Now his girl, whom he couldn't live without did the same gesture of love and comfort to him. Harry breath hitched in his throat and he raised his second hand, pulling Dawn closer, while more tears were unseen in black feathers.

They stayed this way for a few minutes until the sound of footsteps broke the peace and quiet. A hand gripped the curtain around Harry's bed and pulled it open a little gap. Madam Pomfrey, or at least Harry guessed it was the matron without his glasses, stepped through and pulled it close.

"Ah, Lord Peverell, you are awake as it seems." The voice confirmed that it was, in fact, the female healer of Hogwarts. She stepped closer, seeing his squinting eyes and handed him his glasses. Harry put them on blinking as he could see more clearly. The plum and motherly matron smiled softly at him.

"There you go." She said with an equally warm voice. Harry wasn't sure what to say.

"T-Thank you." He murmured out, not ready to look at her really. The woman didn't seem to mind as she pulled her wand and waved it over his body while whispering complex spells.

"Your vitals look good." She said, still waving her wand and muttering. Harry stared down at his white blanket not able to look at her. Dawn had settled into his lap and cuddled close to his stomach. His hand found her feathers and petted her. Madam Pomfrey continued a little before putting her wand away.

"How are you feeling Lord Peverell?" She asked, standing next to his bed, with her hands now folded in front of herself.

Harry shrugged a little. "O-Okay I guess." He again murmured out. Madam Pomfrey frowned a little and pulled a chair closer, before sitting down.

"Should I call for Lord Black?" She asked again eyeing him carefully. Harry merely shook his head, not looking at her. He didn't want to see his godfather. The man would be angry or sad about what he did. He would yell and more. Harry didn't want him to be here, didn't want to look into his eyes and see the hurt. For a moment Poppy was quiet, thinking about many things. Then she sighed.

"Lord Peverell, may I talk to you for a moment?" She asked, folding her skirt a little. Harry eyed her for a moment from the corner fo his eye, not sure what to say. In the end, he nodded for a moment.

"Lord Peverell...Harry." He looked up at that. Madam Pomfrey had never called him by his first name ever, not even after the whole Basilisk business. She on the other hand now wasn't looking at him but instead looked at Dawn.

"I have been the Hogwarts matron for over forty years now. In all this time, I have helped students through all kinds of illness, hurt and pain. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes I fail. But still, I walked on, because there were more to help. Do you know why I choose to do this? Why I became the Hogwarts matron?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.

Harry looked over at her before looking away again. He shook his head. He had never thought about it, it never came to his mind.

Poppy nodded. "Most don't do it. I have been here so long, most remember no time I wasn't here. Of course, that wasn't always this way. I would like to tell you a story. Some people know from the young age what the want to do with their life. I wasn't the same. I had a new idea every few weeks, from duelling to potions, to the professor, all of it came up. I wanted everything but nothing really when I came to Hogwarts. Long ago, I myself walked these halls as a student as you can imagine. In fact, I was in the same year as your head of the house. Minerva and I have been friends since the day we met on the Express and stuck together since then." She got a wistful smile on her face, one of remembrance and a memory of happy days. Then her face faltered. "Bt we were three. Minerva, I and then there was Elizabeth. Like Minerva, I met her on the train and like Minerva and me, she was sorted into Gryffindor. We were inseparable, we learn together, we ate together, we spend the summers at each other's houses and we grew up together. We shared a dorm for four happy years." Her eyes looked so sad as she remembered the laugh of a blond girl who always had a smile on her face and a shoulder to cry on. "Elizabeth was the medium between my more subdue soul and Minervas fierce boldness. She would get us together when they needed it and let us have their space when it also happened. She always tried to help others. She was the one that sat down when a younger student had problems with his homework."

"What happened?" Harry asked, somewhat quickly pulled into the story of the older woman. Poppy smiled sadly looking over at him for a moment.

"She died. A potion accident, something went wrong and the cauldron exploded. A shard of the cauldron hit her head. It went by so quick, one moment she was there and then she was gone."

Harry looked down again, rubbing Dawns back. "I'm sorry."

Poppy shook her head, still smiling sadly. "It is not your fault. It is almost fifty years ago now. Bt it had more consequences. I was her work partner that day and for a long time, I thought I was the one who put the wrong substance into the cauldron. I thought it was my mistake that killed her. I was broken after that and went down a dark path."

Harry flinched a little, that sounded familiar to him. He carefully looked up at the woman.

"What happened?" He asked carefully. Poppy smiled at him.

"Like I said I went down a dark path. I distanced myself from Minerva, I didn't care for school. Boys and Booze were where I went and it wasn't for good reasons. Until one day I had no booze and just broke up with the last of a long line of boyfriends. So I was alone."

With that, the Matron unbuttoned her cuff and pulled her sleeve back. Her index finger slid over a thin scar along her wrist.

"I was lucky that Minerva found me that day and got me into this exact room here. It is where I woke up, finding Minerva sleeping with her head on my bed and I just cried. I felt so ashamed for what I did. It was the worst feeling I had felt at that point in my life and I can say not many excided it." Her face scrunched a little in embarrassment.

"Over the next few months, I had a special counselling and a lot of help. I redid my fifth year, because of that. And you want to know the amazing part?" Now her eyes gleamed a little as she eyed Harry, who still steamrolled from the story.

"I wasn't as alone as I thought I was. Minerva redid her year too, just to stay with me. To this day, she waves it off as that it was nothing and that I shouldn't mention it, but I know what it was, an act of true friendship. At that day, when she said she would redo her year just so I wouldn't be alone, I knew, what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be like Elizabeth and Minerva. I wanted to help people so that there would be fewer children that felt the way I did at that time. I trained, I learned and I became the assistant for the former matron, Madam Rover. A few years later, Minerva joined me here and a year after that, I became the matron. Since then I helped hundreds of students, some with smaller illnesses, some with bigger and a few who tried to do, what I did all those years ago."

Now Harry looked down again, while embarrassment crept through him.

"Some were angry that they didn't succeed in their wish of an end. Others were numb and didn't react at anything. Again others were looked back at their action and felt the only embarrassment for something that was a dark moment of theirs. I will not pretend I know what you feel right now."

Harry flinched a little at that. But Poppy only smiled and continued.

"But there was one feeling I came across again and again. Loneliness. The feeling of being unwanted. The feeling of missing worth." She said now intensely looking at Harry. The boy lowered his head more than before. That was right he felt this way. They would leave him alone, disgusted by this.

"Harry. I have seen you come here more times than probably any other student, maybe with the exception of our own Weasley twins. I dare say, I have grown close to my heart, even though I should act equal to all of the students. So let me tell you this. Lord Black has never left your side the last day." To emphasis her words, she pulled the curtain back, revealing a Sirius that was lying on the next bed, sleeping. His face was scrunched slightly, but his eyes were closed. Hair uncombed, robes ruffled. Poppy dropped the curtain back.

"I had to put a sleeping spell on him and placed him there. Your friends would have spent the night in front of the hospital wing if Minerva hadn't shooed them into their dorms, only to return about ten times in the last four hours herself, taking every excuse for it, to look for you. Hagrid wasn't as subtle, came here more often than not to ask for you, as did every other teacher." Harry raised an eyebrow at that and Poppy smirked a little.

"Professor Snape might have been an exception." Harry smiled a little bit. Poppy smiled back.

"There were more who came, a few from the foreign delegation, students that aren't your normal circle from what I have gathered and so on." Harry flinched a little.

"So they all know?" He asked with a worried voice. Poppy nodded but put her hand on his shoulder in a motherly fashion.

"Yes, they do. Hogwarts tends to be that way. But I wouldn't be too worried about this. You might want to ask your friends what happened this morning in the Great Hall when they visit." Popp pulled her hand back and folded it again in her lap.

"The point I meant to say is, there is a great deal of people who are willing and ready to be there for you. That includes me. It is your decision if you are willing to let them in." With those words, she rose from her chair and pushed it to the side. She picked up a glass from the bedside nightstand and turned to the curtain pulling it back. But when she was about to step out of it, a small voice behind her stopped her.

"Could...Could you wake up my godfather please?" Harry asked, now looking at her. Poppy turned and smiled at him. The boy looked scared but at the same time a little hopeful, something at least. She nodded and moved over to the sleeping black-haired man. Pulling her wand, she tapped it at the foot of the tall man and then moved on to do something else and leave godson and godfather to themselves. On her way, she pulled the curtain around both beds.

Sirius twitched slightly for a moment, then suddenly his eyes sprang open and he sat up with startling speed. Harry flinched slightly. Sirius blinked rapidly, staring around for a moment, getting his barrings. His eyes searched for a second but when he saw his godson in his own bed, they zeroed on him. Harry flinched at the intense stare of his godfather, burning like a pale grey sun. Hate. That was that stare. Harry knew it. Sirius hated him for doing this. He hated him for- Sirius all but leapt out of his bed and before Harry could even move the tall man was at him, stretching out his hand. But the hand he feared to be slapped across is face like Uncle Vernon had done so many times, instead moved past his face and to the back of his head. Harry blinked in somewhat of a surprise when he was pulled into a deep and almost desperate hug by his godfather.

"Thank you. Thank you for being okay." Sirius whispered into his hair, strengthening his grip once more. Harry's arms were hanging down on his sides, confused and surprised.

"S-Sirius." He mumbled out, slowly his arms raised and he gripped into the folds of Sirius dark robes and closed his eyes, trying hard to keep his tears back. His hands were shaking madly and he gritted his teeth, still trying to hold it in. Then he took a single breath through his nose, breathing in the sharp spice like the smell, feel it rushing through his mind. It smelled like home. It smelled like family. It smelled like Sirius.

All the sudden he didn't want to fight back anymore. He didn't want to keep all those feeling in, he didn't want to hide his emotions, his pain his wounds anymore. Harry made a croaking sound, his throat was tied to a knot at the moment.

"P-Padfoot, I'm sor-ry." He said with so much pain in his voice. And there it was. Sobs shook his body and tears rolled down his face like a stream. He gripped harder into the folds of the robe, like on a lifeline. His throat burned like fire and his eyes stung but Sirius strengthened once more his grip, whispering into his hair and it felt so good.

"It's okay Prongslet. I love you." These words, while often thought hadn't come over Sirius's lips before but it made Harry shake even more and he sobbed harder at it, desperately holding on to his godfather. Harry's hands trembled as snot and tears run down his scrunched reddening face. Harry pulled back, staring into Sirius eyes which were equally filled with tears.

"I...I love you too." He stuttered out, stopped by a croaked try to take a breath before he dashed forward again into his godfather's warm arms.

In his lap, Dawn opened her beak and started singing a song of pain and happiness, of hurt and comfort, of love and suffering. A song that reflected her bonded partners feelings.

Somewhere deep in the ministry of magic is the Department of Mysteries, short DOM. In this department, the most obscure and strange phenomenons of the magical world were studied. Time, Space, Love, Death, Life and Birth and many more. Strange almost sculpture-like trinkets were spaced out across halls, tanks filled with liquids, mater and even with sounds or feelings were lining walls. Others seemed almost empty.

In one was one a single archway made from obsidian and a veil hanging from it. Another room had a gash in it that seemed to go down and down and down and from the inside blue and yellow flames roared upwards. In yet another room, the senses of everyone who entered it changed. You could taste colours and hear a sweetness. There was a room filled with a sphere, which constantly changed it's colour from red to green to blue to black to a colour that was found nowhere else in the world. A masked man stood next to it, staring into the depth of the orb. An Unspeakable. Those were the man and woman who worked in the DOM. Each one of them had a second job in the ministry, a strawman occupation that had no meaning and was kept saw by memory charms. No one knew who they were and what they did down there. Not their friends, not their enemies, not their families.

And then there was one room. In it, the walls were filled with bells of different sizes, each an alarm or information. ome were made from bronze, some from gold others tin or iron. Some told quite often, like the bell that signalled a case of accidental magic or when an obliviator squad had to be dispatched. One, in particular, rang all the time, it was the one that said a goblin had taken gold from a wizards vault. It had been hung there in the early days of Gringotts when only a few wizards would deposit there and they were worried about theft. The problem was once a bell was hung it could not be taken away again. So the bell rung and rung and rung and these days it was silenced because there was no point in it anymore.

Other bells only rung rarely, like the bell of lords, which would mark when one of the Lords of the Wizengamot died, or the bell of fire, which alerted when something came up the before mentioned gash. No one knew what was on the other side, but sometimes horrible creatures came through.

Then there were the bells that had never told. Like the big iron bell which would only ring when the Ministry was disbanded or the black Bell of Death, which would alert the Department if something came out of the veil.

It was late in the Evening and Unspeakable Cold, In real life called Jeremy Clackson, was sitting there, reading this days Prophet. Every Unspeakable was obligated to sit in the bell room for a time. It rotated and this week it was his turn. Mostly it was boring. He perked up when a slight chim came to his ears. He raised his head, looking around. There, the silver bell number 657, the bell of the magical eruption. It was to alert about strong happenings of magic everywhere in the country. It wasn't one that told every day, but not one you would only hear every hundred years. So Unspeakable Cold sighed, turning to the empty painting frames that lined the back of the office.

"Lord Rockwood." He addressed the frame. A dignified man with long dark robes and a mask in his hand strolled into the frame. He had short black hair and a goatee, thin features and watery unhappy eyes.

"You called for us, please?" The painting addressed the Unspeakable with an arrogant and snotty voice. Rockwood had been the department founder almost two hundred years ago and to celebrate that, his portrait was used for communication. Not a good deal Cold thought to himself.

"Inform the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. There has been an eruption in the sector." He turned to the bell and read the piece of parchment that had appeared below it. "62343. It told seven times." Which in of itself was remarkable. The more a bell told the more powerful the eruption had been. The highest ever happening was nine times.

The painting sniffed dignified. "We will do so." Like the painting had any choice, it was forced to do the job. With a swirl of its robes, the painting of Rockwood left the frame and Unspeakable Cold sat down, picking up his newspaper again. A sever, how curious, he thought, before minding his business again.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, leaning back and placing his half-moon glasses down on the dark wooden surface. He raised his long fingers rubbing over his eyes with a sigh. He had worked all day, reviewing memories and corresponding with the DLME. He had pulled up everything he knew about the Carrows or their master. Every hiding hole, every safehouse the order knew about during the war, everything. But it wasn't much. Most safe houses were hidden very very well. Tom was many things. He was cruel, he was power-hungry and he was insane. But he wasn't stupid. Far from it. He was probably the smartest student Dumbeldore had ever seen walking these halls. The only person who came even close to competing with him was a certain bushy-haired girl that was right now sleeping in the Gryffindor dorms. At least if Minerva had been able to force her there. Probably locking the girl in her room. Otherwise, Albus wouldn't put it past her that she had sneaked out just to get back to the hospital wing. Hermione Granger wasn't a rulebreaker but she was loyal and determinant that Albus knew, while he smiled thinking about it.

Hermione Granger was the kind who would put their life on the line for her friends, in fact, she had done it before. This brought his thoughts to Harry and the smile on his face melted like a piece of chocolate in the summer sun. How much he had failed the boy, Albus thought with a wince. Every time he tried doing something for his good, it only got worse. He placed him with the Dursleys to keep him safe and he wasn't and that was just a start of a long list where he wronged him, comulating in the fact that he told the boy about being polar of Tom. It was something even an adult would have trouble to handle, never mind a boy of mere fourteen years of age. Dumbeldore brushed through his beard, thinking. He would need to apologise to Harry. For this and so many things, he had done wrong over the years. For all those burdens he had loaded onto his young shoulders and all the misery he had caused him. He was awake at the moment probably, but even though his guilt was strong, Albus had long ago learned that waking the wrath of Poppy was something he shouldn't do. Tomorrow would be fine too. While this was his responsibility he had others too, others neglected the last two days while searching for Petunia Dursley.

She was another person he had done wrong to. He had promised her that he would keep her safe, for taking in Harry. He had broken that promise too. She might have had her flaws but she still was someone who expected him to do the right thing but he didn't. Dumbledore knew he would have a lot to account for when he moved on. When the day came he would walk a new path, like a certain grey-bearded wizard in one of his favourite muggle fiction, had described it. He picked up a letter from the Australian Wizards Parliament. It was about an Auror named Lazarus White and his encounter with a pack of werewolves, on which the Parliament had a few questions. He was only halfway through the letter when someone knocked on the door.

Dumbeldore put down the letter again, calling out. "Please come in."

The oak door was pushed open and his old friend Takeda walked in, leaning heavily on his cane. Shiro the white raven took off from the old man's shoulder and swept throught the room, landing next to Fawkes on his perch. The phoenix looked down on the white animal and took a step to the side, making a little room between the two. Shiro and Fawkesnever saw eye to eye really, which in Dumbledore's mind mainly was caused by the mischievous character of his friends familiar. Right on cue, Shiro closed the gap between him and Fawkes, cackling a little while doing so. Albus smirked feeling the annoyance of Fawkes through the bond, while the magnificent phoenix turned it's head to the side. Dumbeldore returned his eyes to his old friend who carefully sat down an armchair that appeared in front of his desk. The old man sighed a little in relief when he finally sat in place. He folded his hands over his cane and smiled towards Dumbledore. The ever so slightly younger man eyed his old friend.

"My friend, what a welcome surprise. What brings you to me in this late hour? Is something wrong?" Dumbledore watched the old man blink once slowly and a soft smile appearing on the old Japanese man's face.

"Why my dear Albus do you think something is wrong?" He asked with a soft and quiet voice.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrow. "So everything is fine?"

Takeda tilted his head slightly. "I didn't say that." He simply answered.

Albus blinked. "So something is wrong."

Takeda still smiled. "I didn't say that either."

Dumbledores eyelid twitched a little at that. Takeda Nobunaga was a wonderful man and someone he greatly liked, but sometimes he wanted to throw him out of a high window. He could be so evasive and with a tint of embarrassment, Dumbeldore thought, it was annoying when other people did exactly the same thing to him as he did to them. So Dumbeldore took a different route. He raised the bowl from his desk, offering it to Takeda.

"Lemon drop?"

The old man smiled brighter leaning forward and aking one.

"Ah, I'm sure young Tokugawa-chan would not be amused for me eating sweets, but then what she doesn't know." And with that, he winked at Dumbeldore while putting the Lemondrop into his mouth. Dumbledore placed the bowl back on the desk taking a sweet for himself. Takeda smiled and for about half a minute it was quite between the two of them. Then Takeda nodded once, his smile fading.

"Albus-kun my old friend, there is something we have to talk about." He said. Finally, Dumbledore thought. He sat more upright, waving his hand.

"Please my friend, how can I help you?"

Takeda closed his eyes for a moment.

"I was just walking under the moonlight through your wonderful castle." He said.

Albus smiled. "This isn't my castle, I'm the mear headmaster, but go on."

He wasn#t showing if he had even heard what Albus said, when Nobunaga continued, his old hands firmly grasped around his cane.

"When Omoikane granted me a small gaze into her plans." This definitively had Dumbledores attention. His friend rarely referred to the Japanese god wisdome. While he didn't believe in gods, the old headmaster was careful about everything his friend said in context to those beings.

"What did she grant you?"

Takeda stared at him and relayed the words.

"The last son of the line of snake will not die to any enemy. Not sword, not wand not curse will end him. Not man, nor woman nor child will end his path. But he can fall, defeated by the power that is in our every life, every second of every hour of every day."

Dumbledore blinked, then his complex mind went to work. The last son of the line of snakes could only be Tom. He was Salazar's heir and that could only mean him. But the rest? Does this mean he was impossible to kill? Maybe. He was in wraith form and couldn't be ended that way. Could that be it? Maybe, but he wouldn't bet on that. He needed to find a way to stop him. And then there was the thing with the power of our every life. What was it? Life? Was that it? That would make sense because life would make him vulnerable. But it could everything else. Every minor thing in our lives could be it. Was it love? His forehead creased up, while he thought.

"Stop that Albus-kun." Takeda interrupted his thought process. He looked up. The older man stared at Dumbeldore with intensity.

"You are trying to control fate my friend, but fate only dances to her own tune. You can't control her, you can't change her. All you can to is accept and live your life to the fullest."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I have to prepare, maybe there is a way. It is my responsibility."

Takeda shook his head, while the white raven flew over and landed on his knee. "Albus-kun, this is what holds you back. You think the world can't turn without you. It is your biggest flaw."

Dumbledore frowned. "So I shouldn't live up to my responsibilities?" He asked. Takeda once again shook his head.

"No, but you have to let go of the illusion of control. Think of a peach tree. I can't tell it when to grow, or when it should drop it's fruit."

Dumbledore frowned. "But there are things you can control. You can plug its fruit, you can plant the seat."

Takeda smiled. "Yes, but where every you plant the seat, it will grow into a peach tree."

Dumbeldore rubbed over his forehead. "Be that as it may, but still, I have to try and figure this out. Thank you for bringing it to my attention." Takeda rose, still smiling.

"Of course old friend, but don't think too much."

Dumbeldore smiled back. "Of course. As long as Voldemort is still a wraith we have time."

Like on que a hand knocked on the door. Dumbledore frowned, looking over at Takeda for a moment, before calling out.

"Come in."

The door opened revealing Severus Snape. His black robes swirled behind the young man as he moved up into the office with a fast and firm step. To the headmaster's surprise Severus looked nervous and tense. Also a little winded. If Dumbledore didn't know the man better he wouldhave guessed Severus ran here.

"Severus, what can we do for you?" Dumbledore asked the younger man, who didn't answer. He moved around the desk, careful to turn his back at Takeda.

"Headmaster, we have a problem." He said, pulling up his left sleeve. On it, the once faded dark Mark was almost burning black and red, angry against the backdrop of Snapes pale forearm.

The gods of fate didn't like to be tempted.

The note about Lazarus White is a nod to TheSinister_Man and his Story "The Prince of Slytherin." a very well written story, I can only endorse it. This is also the story where I took the idea of the Bell room in the DOM from.

Writing Harry will be a little difficult at the moment. Healing him is important but on the one hand I don't want to do it too fast nor to slow. So I will probably cheat a little, later more on that. Also, this is the first time Harry and Sirius said each other I love you, something really important for me. Also, it is quite different from the moment when Harry returned from the first task.

Dumbledore. For those who think man he is taking it strong with the "it is all my fault.". For me Dmbeldore has this god complex, thinking he is responsible for everything hence his many jobs. Nobunaga is point on with his comment about him thinking he could control fate. Speaking of him, of course, his talk about the peacch tree is an homage to Oogway. Just love him too much.

There isn't much said to this anymore. Do you have questions, ideas thoughts? Let me know. Also I have a question. Up until now I answered reviews through PM's. Do you want me to answer those in author notes at the beginning in future or what do you think? Let me know and have a great day.

Next up: Meeting

Greetings Rouven