Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything you can recognise from any books or TV series or movies. I do however take liberties with the plots or mentions provided by JKR or other writers. The only profit I'm getting out of it is improving my English.

Title: Secrets & Keepers – Entropy

Rating/Warnings: R/M [AU; Manipulative Dumbledore (therefore not Dumbledore friendly); profanity; canon typical violence; frank discussion of past child abuse (Harry but not only) and of past child abuse of sexual nature (not Harry); not very detailed descriptions of torture (not Harry); Black family feels; identity crisis; pureblood politics; good Slytherins]

Characters and pairings: Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Regulus Black, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Bathsheda Babbling. As well as Hermione Granger, Arcturus Black, Larry Lawrence (OC) and Josephine Turner (OC). The rest of characters will appear as the story progresses.

All adults are more or less paternal towards Harry or grandfatherly towards Hermione as well as generally friendly or at the very least civil towards each other once they sort out their differences.

References to past and present relationship of sexual nature between Snape and Babbling. Occasional mentions of one sided Sirius/James, not one sided Sirius/OFC (the woman of many names). Contains mentions of Remus/Tonks, eventual allusions to Larry/Josephine and background Arcturus/Melania. No Harry or Hermione pairings because they have a lot on their plates and won't have time for teenage nonsenses for a longer while (at the very least through PoA timeline).

Spoilers: All seven books with occasional, brief references to ground work for HP & CC main plot as well as Secrets & Keepers – Collision Course and Secrets & Keepers – Supernova.

Summary: Harry & Hermione learn that as weird as everything become in the aftermath of learning devastating news is that the life actually goes on. There's a Dark Lord to destroy, a manipulative Headmaster to overthrow, family bonds and new friendships to establish and old ones to maintain. Direct sequel to S&K - Collision Course and S&K - Supernova.

Chapter summary: Sirius visits Black Manor in Derbyshire, finishes claiming ritual and has a long-overdue talk with the undead.

Word count: About 12 700.

Author's note: It's the longest chapter that I've written for Entropy in so far and most likely will remain as such for a longer while. I could have separated it into two chapters but the split was very uneven and rather big part of me wanted to keep all of it in one place. I might have gotten a little overboard with the use of pensieve but the issues the memories concern are better seen than heard about. And let's be serious, Arcturus is a drama queen and Sirius's mischievous streak has to come from somewhere. The timeline of this and next chapter might be tad confusing but for various reasons, I decided to keep the order in which they were written since neither of them affects the other. And yes, it's still 8th August but very soon we will say goodbye to that date.

Posted on Tuesdays.

Beta read by Regnbuen (Nitraz).


The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said.

~Peter F. Drucker

Secrets & Keepers – Entropy

Chapter five: The Head of the House of Black.

Sirius Black, 8th August 1993, Black Manor, Derbyshire.

As he stood at the top of the small hill, just within the perimeter of the wards of Black Manor, having apparated straight there from the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, he reflected on the lessons his grandfather had taught him about people. That the most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said.

And he listened, Merlin, did he listen. First thing was the hunch that stirred in his gut when he heard about the bequests made to his grandmother Melania. They didn't surprise him, they were fairly mandatory all things considered. But there was something else in there, the distinct lack of information about her, specifically from Regulus. He did mention that Grandpa Arcturus had passed away but he didn't say a word about Grandma Mel. Which implied two things. One that she had died when he was out of commission or that she was still alive.

Both were quite likely. He didn't hear a lot about her in the last two years before ending up in Azkaban, but by accident he did overhear Rufus Macmillan talking to some buddy of his over drinks, saying that it was sad what happened to Aunt Mel. What precisely it was had slipped from Sirius's mind back then before he reached the bottom of his own glass, and in the chaos of everything that followed it simply slipped from his mind.

Only to come back with vengeance today. Grandma Mel, much like Grandpa Arcturus, had for many years of Sirius's early childhood felt more like his mother than his own had ever been. And sure, Grandpa was a stern teacher, but he was also fair and understanding, he didn't set goals before young Sirius that he wasn't able to achieve, and he always appreciated the efforts that Sirius made, even though the effects of the things he set before himself were far from ideal. But Grandma, Grandma was the benevolent one, the one that soothed cries, kissed cheeks, ruffled hairs and healed scraped knees or hands with the magical touch of a loving mother rather than a swift flick of her wand. Young Sirius and Regulus both adored her.

For as long as they had any use for her, an ugly thought butted in.

But there was more to it. Of course there was more to it. The bequests to Lily, to Harry, to, for Merlin's sake, the Muggle hospital in which Regulus was recovering in a coma. And while there was no specified bequest to Regulus himself… But the thing that had really taken him aback was the mention of Mirzam's birth name, Miranda Black in relation to that hospital.

The loss which my family has suffered, his grandpa had called her demise. My family, not a word that Grandpa Arcturus lavished on people that weren't technically family, but to use it in relation to a seeming Muggleborn? Unheard of, just like had been awarding the sole custody of James and Lily's children to Lily in a divorce.

So he continued asking and the more he asked the more certain he became that there was something fishy about Grandpa Arcturus's death. For Merlin's sake, it was a ministerial death claim, and they were hardly accepted anymore, especially by goblins, even more so considering the family wealth.

It was just his luck that prior to ascertaining that he had put on the Head of the Black family ring, he managed to use a mild Confundus charm on the room, for neither Bathsheda, Snape nor Proudclaw to find it alarming, that from that moment forwards visiting the manor had moved from long-term plans into something that needed to be done immediately.

Luckily he had an excuse in the completion of the family ritual, and as they differed from family to family, Bathsheda couldn't suspect how much leeway in finishing it he had, and accepted his haste as something obvious.

And as much as he hated leaving Harry behind, there were some things which needed to be done before moving forward with anything else. Like checking how dead the dead man was.

The manor loomed in the distance, a spread out stone mansion, very Georgian in design as it was the style which Sirius's great-grandfather and his namesake had decided suited the family best. In previous incarnations it used to be a wooden hillfort, and once upon a time, a castle that had been demolished over and over by new generations of the Blacks until it was decided that no further change to the building's structure would be made that would drastically affect the building.

It suited Grandpa Arcturus just fine and the only drastic thing he had done, that would surely have pissed off his own father, was adding a garage for the automobile which he obtained prior to taking his job as England's ambassador in Czechoslovakia. It was a black Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud, slightly menacing, because obviously, if a Head of the Black family was supposed to travel like a Muggle then at the very least he should do so in style. Not that young Sirius complained, because the car had been awesome and he spent many tranquil hours in there, watching how Muggle villages were passing by while next to him at the wheel, Grandpa Arcturus was either showing other motorists that they were no match for him, or lazily gliding at a leisure speed.

That said, there wasn't any nook or cranny within a one hundred mile radius from the manor which at one point or another Sirius didn't visit. Regulus didn't mind the car, but only joined Sirius and Grandpa if Grandma was also coming for the trip. At the age of thirteen Sirius also learned how to drive that car, but only on the premises of the manor, and at glacial speed. Not that he minded.

He shook his head, dismissing the memories of his childhood before he leapt forward, transforming into Padfoot mid-air. Technically on the premises of the manor he was safe, but he didn't exactly wish to attract anybody's attention.

After all, the chief weapon of the Spanish Inquisition was surprise. Surprise and fear, and an almost fanatical devotion to the pope.

He made his way to the manor in a slightly roundabout way, through the groves and clusters of trees by the main road to the manor, a path he'd run through many times as a child when playing hide and seek. It was an excellent road for Padfoot, much less the beanpole that Sirius had always been and soon enough he found himself by the main entrance to the manor.

In the afternoon sunlight, with windows gleaming in partially reflecting light, the manor looked inviting and not at all menacing in spite of its size.

I'm home, sprang to his mind. And he was. The manor was the only home in the Black family which he had known, with people whom he didn't fear or hate. This was the only place he had been happy aside from Hogwarts, or his tiny flat in a very brief period of time when both his heart and his head had been in the right place.

And now, he was returning here as its master, or master of the master depending on how dead his grandfather actually were. If Grandpa was watching, and it was highly likely that he was, then he only had one chance at making a new first impression.

He transformed back into his human form, transfiguring his shirt and jeans into something that bore some semblance of his old, black Auror uniform, before, after a moment of hesitation, he transfigured a leaf he picked from the ground into a cloak.

Properly attired, as a Black should be, he stepped out of the grove and into the wide path leading towards the entrance.

No one had disturbed him during his walk to the front door, which had opened just as he extended his hand, as they should. He wasted no time in admiring the entrance hall, only making a note of the vases filled with fresh flowers that decorated it. From there he continued deeper into the manor, to the inner stairwell that lead down to the basement.

Heading down, he passed the cellars, wine and storage respectively, and spared only a brief glance at the door leading to the holding cells, which to his knowledge had never been used, until he reached the bottom floor of the basement level. It was the level, which for Regulus had always been perplexing as it ended with solid walls on all sides.

But to Sirius, the Heir of the Head of the Black family, there was something in there which Regulus couldn't see. Straight ahead from the last turn of the staircase, there was a set of mahogany double doors that had always been locked.

This time, they both opened wide as soon as he extended his hand towards them to try and cast an opening charm. He passed through with no hesitation in his step, except for the one that he felt in his soul. Once he was inside, the door closed shut and darkness surrounded him.

He took a deep breath through his nose and slowly let it out.

"I'm your master, show me," he whispered into the room.

For a moment nothing happened, and then, very slowly, a small slivery light appeared on the wall opposite to the door. He passed through the room, narrowly avoiding a collision with that bloody ritual bowl that he knew he would find in there, and on the tapestry that covered the wall on his eye level, he found his own name covered in a soft silvery glow.

Squinting, he glanced to the right of his name and found nothing alarming, or true, he realised as he found Regulus's name with both his birth and death dates under it. Then bypassing his father he glanced up at Grandpa Arcturus's name, only to find it also adorned with birth, and supposed death dates.

He snorted under his breath and held up his left hand, palm slightly raised before he slashed it open with a flick of his wand. Then he pressed his bleeding palm against the tapestry.

"Show me the truth but keep it here," he commanded as he willed his magic into the wall.

In response, the family tree lit up like a Christmas tree with sudden zigzagging flashes of gold and silver before it settled into emanating a soft pale glow.

Immediately his eyes settled on Grandpa Arcturus's name, now missing his supposed death day.

"Conning old bastard," he snorted to himself as he looked lower to glance at Regulus.

Except then his eyes had stopped on his own name, and then the golden thread that linked his name with that of Miranda Black.

The loss which my family has suffered, echoed through his mind.

He stared at it, but it didn't change. Neither had it changed after he blinked a couple of times. He was still married to Miranda Black, well at some point, as the tree didn't specify neither the days of marriage or birth and death dates for spouses.

And there was only one Miranda Black that he knew.

Now would be the best time to show up, he thought frantically as he tried to summon the ghost apparition of Mirzam.

"What for?" he received in an answer. "It's not as if I would be able to confirm or deny anything. I'm only the delusional apparition of her memory, nothing more."

But one that woill be able to jog my memories of her, he pointed out, not daring to say it out loud in case that old scheming fart hovered somewhere in the shadows.

"Why does it matter?" she asked. "It's not as if some thread on the tapestry changes the fact that I'm dead."

It changes things for me, he objected. What could possibly have led him…

"Why don't you ask him instead of me?" she offered. "He's the one that has been sitting on it for a number of years, and considering that there are no legal documents confirming our marriage that you know of, then it had to be done the old fashioned way."

And as the Head of the Black family he would have to participate in it, he agreed.

"Good talk," she agreed with a soft chuckle.

He shook his head, finally allowing himself to look at Regulus's name, now missing the day of his supposed death. For good measure, he also looked around, confirming to his intense relief that his father was still dead, as was his mother and a number of his other relatives.

Once he reached some semblance of calmness, he stepped away from the family tree and turned towards the ritual bowl. He approached it with no hesitation and placed his wounded palm at the bottom of it.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, son of Orion Arcturus Black, grandson of Arcturus Sirius Black, claim the position of the Head of the House of Black as my birth right and honour bestowed on me by the former Head of the House of Black. I swear to lead it with justice and the integrity expected of me. I swear to not turn away the lost, the unwanted, the scorned, the wounded, the suffering, the overlooked. I swear to uphold the honour of the Black family justice code, and to not abuse it. I swear to destroy our enemies and to aid our allies. That is my promise to my ancestors and I swear it in my words, blood and magic. Et in nomine patris et fili. Semper nigreos. Et in nomine patris et fili. Pater meus Arcturus Sirius Black, fili mi Harrison James Potter. Et in nomine patris et fili. Meum nomen est Sirius Regulus Arcturus Black et heredes mei memores. Et in nomine patris et filii, et sanguinem magicae."

As he was spoke, he could feel his blood draining into the bowl in a steady stream that left him light-headed enough to cling to the stone pillar on which the bowl stood on. But he prevailed and didn't collapse, even though black spots started to dance before his eyes.

Just as he spoke the last word of the oath, he felt the blood rushing back into his wound and further into his body, and with blood came magic. Heady, dark and menacing magic that drowned his senses and almost made him scream.

"You're not my master," he choked out through gritted teeth. "I command you, not the other way around. I will summon you when I need you."

And just like that, the magic left, fleeing into the ring like it was supposed to, only to be summoned in the dire need of family judgement. Barely a second after that his knees gave up and he slid down the stone pillar to the floor.

Not something that I would have subjected even that bloody lunatic to, he thought to himself. No wonder why Grandpa never used it.

As in a response, the ring throbbed gently and warmed up slightly.

"Oh, shut up," he growled. "You're dead, and this family is mine to command now. So if I choose to never summon you, then it's my choice and my right. Although if you behave I might reconsider judging Bella, so calm the fuck down."

In response to that, the ring throbbed once more and quickly grew as cold as it was supposed to be.

"First sign of madness, talking to oneself, dead people or inanimate objects," he muttered out loud.

Not that you were a paragon of mental health to begin with, he could almost hear Regulus saying.

"Moving on," he said to himself as he hoisted himself from the ground.

Although he could now apparate all over the manor as he fucking pleased, he chose to head upstairs the old fashioned way, and the further he walked away from the heart of the manor the more at peace he felt.

Once he was on the ground floor again, he looked around, wondering where he could find his grandfather. The most logical hiding place, at the very least for Grandpa Arcturus, was either the library or in the studies. Opting to look for him in the latter first, Sirius turned left from the staircase to the part of the manor that overlooked the lake.

On the ground floor and opposite ends of the family wing, were two rooms that Grandpa Arcturus used as study. The one that was located just off the entrance hall was a lavishly but tastefully decorated room meant for meeting business associates, and hardly ever used for anything else. It had a splendid view at the edge of the lake and the main road leading to manor's entrance. According to the stories that Sirius had heard, this particular office had been favoured by his namesake, as his great-grandfather preferred knowing the comings and goings of both the family members and servants.

The study that Grandpa Arcturus favoured was located on the opposite end of the wing to that one. It was just as big as the other and decorated with a mixture of taste, practicality and a little bit of luxury. As the last room of the wing, and due to the unfortunate placing of the fireplace and entrance to orangery, it didn't have direct access to the corridor that ran along the wall of the inner courtyard. The only access to the room was through the orangery itself or Grandma Mel's little study, which Grandma used for writing letters, and family miscreants used as a waiting room before a talk with Grandpa.

Bypassing the door to Grandma's study, Sirius passed through the open door to the orangery, making a note of the blooming clementine trees in their pots that stood between the entrance to the orangery and the entrance to Grandpa's study. Clementines were Grandpa's guilty pleasure, and pride and joy of Nina, the main gardener. And just like there was no amount of clementines that Grandpa Arcturus couldn't put away, for Nina there was no shape absurd enough to shape the growing trees into. The potted trees, like he expected them to, came in various sizes and shapes, but the giant clementine tree in the middle of the orangery stood untouched, just like when he saw it last, weighed down by a heavy coat of flowers. In the far corner of the orangery he also spotted pomegranate tree, a couple modest sized orange trees and forever solitary grapefruit one.

Some things never change, he mused as he reached out towards the handle that clicked open and opened before him.

The room in which he found himself hadn't changed much since the last time he saw it. The big leather couch in front of the enormous fireplace, located in the left corner of the room, looked as inviting as ever, even though the fireplace itself was cold and empty. Floor to ceiling bookcases covered all the inner walls and the room was filled with armchairs and side tables. In the corner where the outer walls met, stood a huge desk that curiously enough was devoid of any paperwork, a sight so unusual that it made Sirius frown before his gaze settled on the man himself.

Grandpa Arcturus stood by the window closest to his desk with his back turned to Sirius. His hair, jet-black that Sirius had remembered, was steel grey but like always tied up into a neat ponytail just over the nape of his neck with a narrow black ribbon. Like always however in a home setting he wore no outer robe favouring very Muggle looking combination of dark trousers, implacably white shirt and a dark vest. Had it been later in the day, and after dinner, the vest would have been exchanged into one of the dressing-gowns.

For a very brief moment Sirius felt as if no time had passed, and instead of nearing thirty-four (well, by a long stretch, but still his thirty-fourth birthday was closer than further in time) he was nearing sixteen again.

An illusion, he told himself firmly as he stepped fully into the room and closed the door with a loud thud.

"Sirius," Grandpa Arcturus said softly, turning over his left shoulder towards Sirius.

"Grandpa," replied Sirius curtly as he looked at the older man.

It seemed as if for the man, no or hardly any time had passed. Even from a distance, he looked just as lean as he had been in Sirius's memory, and Sirius could hardly see any new lines on his face.

"What's your name?" asked Arcturus quietly as he looked at Sirius expectantly.

Sirius could hardly resist a smirk but he only allowed his lips to twitch slightly before he replied simply, as if he was making an observation about the weather, "Sirius Regulus Arcturus Black."

"An interesting choice," Arcturus observed carefully after a brief moment of silence.

"Better than the one I was dealt on my naming day," replied Sirius, doing his best to keep the ice he felt in his soul at the thought of his father, from his voice, and knowing that he was failing miserably. "I want to have nothing to do with the man you called son, and while I cannot change the blood I can change the name."

"I know," sighed Arcturus heavily.

Sirius's blood ran cold and he barely kept himself from spitting out the question, "He admitted?"

"He?" asked Arcturus grimly. "Have you met him? He would have denied being on fire even if he was burning to death," he added with a snort. "No, my dear boy, it wasn't him. It was Miranda."

"Speaking of whom…" started Sirius briskly.

"How about we sit down and handle it like adults?" offered Arcturus as he gestured towards the desk.

"I'd rather stand if you don't mind," replied Sirius coldly knowing very well how exactly Grandpa would sit them down.

"Your house, your rules," sighed Arcturus.

"Start from the beginning," Sirius ordered him.

"Which one?" asked Arcturus pointedly. "Because there are a couple of them."

"Miranda," grunted Sirius.

Arcturus stepped away from the window to lean against the wall next to it before he answered, "I knew who she was the moment your head had turned towards her when we came to pick you up after your first year. The likeness was…" he paused "overwhelming," he finally decided on a word.

"To whom?" pressed Sirius.

"Abigail Sarah," sighed Arcturus heavily.

"Surname," muttered Sirius.

"Abigail Sarah… Babbling," he added the surname as if he wasn't sure if he could say it, "an old friend of your grandmother. Poor thing," replied Arcturus and sighed again.

"What happened to her?" asked Sirius.

"Her brother," replied Arcturus with a snort. "She was younger than him, much younger. Like the rest of them she was a Ravenclaw, smart, talented… and attractive."

Something heavy had settled in Sirius's stomach.

"He raped her, didn't he?" he whispered softly.

"Many times," confirmed Arcturus grimly. "One of those rapes concluded in a pregnancy just after she graduated from Hogwarts. Couldn't stand even the thought of bearing her brother's child. So one day shortly after she found out, she took your grandmother out to their favourite look out point, not too far from Hogwarts, and handed her a letter detailing everything that her brother had ever done to her, told her to read it while she would go for a solitary walk. She threw herself into the ravine just as Mel finished reading her letter."

"I'm sorry," whispered Sirius.

"So am I," sighed Arcturus heavily.

"And Solomon?" asked Sirius grimly.

"When I presented the copy of the letter to him and his father, he claimed that they were the ravings of a lunatic. Abigail's mother had been a Selwyn, one of the touched in the head ones as they had claimed. David, the idiot, believed his son over me and his own daughter. I left the copy of the letter with him, in case he changed his mind, but the original has been in my possession for ages. Came in handy every time I needed to wrangle something out of that sycophant."

"Like say warding an old house in Hogsmeade for the use of one teenage werewolf?" asked Sirius pointedly.

"That was a joint effort," admitted Arcturus with a grimace. "And one that, in retrospect, I could have done myself but I wasn't certain at the time," he paused, and with another grimace he added, "Well, hindsight is always 20/20."

"Why would you do that?" asked Sirius curiously.

Arcturus stared at him, clearly not expecting this kind of question from Sirius.

"Because it was a decent thing to do?" he offered finally. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Remus Lupin one of your friends?"

"Who he was doesn't matter," replied Sirius stiffly. "What matters is why you signed on it? You, with your everything…" he gestured around the room.

"I could never deny solid reasoning, especially when it was something that came out of the mouth of one of my oldest and probably most sincerest friends," replied Arcturus with a shrug. "Damocles Greengrass had for many years an idea for a social experiment concerning packless, underage werewolves. It wasn't exactly something that either your great-great-grandfather or Dippet would have signed on, or something that a man of his political position would have proposed to anyone, but…" he paused. "When Dumbledore came to the four of us with a proposition to admit one such a child, and a descendant of one of the former graduates, I knew where he stood. He had no problems with convincing the other two, and he knew that I was only protesting for the sake of appearances, but you remember him… There was no law that could prevent the boy from being accepted to Hogwarts, as long as the school could provide for his special needs."

"Ones that I'm quite sure required some expenses, didn't they?" asked Sirius pointedly.

"They did," agreed Arcturus. "But I didn't spend over fifty-five years in the position of treasurer because I couldn't have easily overthrown whichever idiot was in charge at the time."

"Because the one who controls the source of money actually controls everything else," supplied Sirius with a quick smile. "I do remember certain things."

"I'm glad that you do," replied Arcturus with an answering quick smile. "Not that my job had actually been easy once that twinkling scumbag ascended into the high chair. But at the very least he proved to be a challenging opponent, and constant attempts to restrict his schemes allowed me to flex my creative thinking. And as long as I could thwart his elaborate plans to swindle money out of the board, I had no problems with reaching into my own pocket. Not that I had to do it often."

"Did it work out?" asked Sirius pensively. "The social experiment I mean."

"I'm afraid not," replied Arcturus with a grimace. "We were so concentrated on the end goal that we forgot to factor into the social experiment the social part of the equation. Let's just say that we all agreed that the experiment shouldn't be repeated ever again."

Sirius lowered his head.

"As for Miranda," started Arcturus slowly. "Her sister was fortunate enough to have her features smoothed out by Ruth Babbling's distinct Irish beauty, but just in case, every year, on the anniversary of Abigail's death, until the girl entered Hogwarts, I sent a copy of the letter to Ruth. Merlin only knows that at the time I believed that I was doing what I thought was best for them."

"She told you," guessed Sirius, softly in a voice barely audible to his own ears.

"It came out at some point," sighed Arcturus. "In an explosion of expletives concerning the state of my brain. Something to which she voiced once she felt secure in her position."

"And that position was precisely which one?" asked Sirius pointedly, a little louder than before.

"How well do you remember your extended stay in St Mungo's shortly after your graduation from Auror training?" asked Arcturus in return.

"Bits and pieces," admitted Sirius grimly. "Mirz… Miranda holding my hand, telling her how much she meant to me, listening to her telling me how much I meant to her," he whispered. "It gets fuzzy later on."

"With good reason," sighed Arcturus heavily. "Why don't you let me show you?" he asked as he gestured towards the stone basin that stood on the desk.

"I'm not getting into it with you," objected Sirius.

"Oh relax, it's an old family invention so it doesn't work like others do," said Arcturus swiftly. "Shall we?" he asked.

Sirius grunted in reply. He didn't like the idea very much, but it was better to comply than object because knowing Grandpa he would have ended with complying anyway.

Arcturus waved his wand towards it and from the basin a silvery mist lifted, transforming the room around them but only slightly. The changes in the room were miniscule. The furniture didn't change but the grey wallpaper of present day was sage green with tiny white accents. The curtains that in present moment were pearly white, in the memory had the colour of graphite grey. The only furniture that changed place were a couple of armchairs in the corner of the room, by the entrance to Grandma's study, but their placing was something that changed on a regular basis.

But the desk in the opposite corner of the room to the fireplace, remained where it had stood for ages, and just as Sirius remembered it was covered with piles of parchment. At the desk, with hair as jet black as a raven's wing, sat a much younger Arcturus.

Sirius glanced at the real Arcturus. He had no idea how old the memory they were viewing was, but considering that Mirzam had been dead for thirteen years, and he asked Sirius about his stay in St Mungo's that happened over fourteen years ago, the memory should be taking place sometime between these two. Overall he didn't change much, aside of losing the blackness of his hair to Black family version of greying and gaining a couple of new and not very deep lines, his back was as ramrod straight as Sirius remembered and he was still a tall and lean gentleman.

Arcturus of the memory appeared to be quite busy with the paperwork on his desk, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment before reaching for another to check something, before he returned to scribbling. At the very least until he was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by the entrance of a house-elf. Judging by the way in which the tuft of white hair was tied back, it was Tommy the Blackmane, Arcturus's personal manservant, and as Sirius recently had learned his steward. Just like Sirius remembered, Tommy was wearing a quite nice grey shirt that was tied around his middle with a narrow black belt.

"Yes, Tommy," asked the younger Arcturus.

"Master Black has a visitor," said the elf. "The one who wrote to the master today. Should Tommy send her away or does Master Black wishes to see her?" he asked in a sceptical tone.

"She did want to speak to me," replied Arcturus.

"Tommy's Mam always said that what one wants and what one gets aren't always the same," said the elf. "Tommy will show her in. Would Master Black require tea?" he asked. "Master's teapot appears to be empty."

"Thank you," said Arcturus. "I didn't even realise that."

"Should Tommy provide a second cup?" asked the elf.

"Do so but make it invisible for the time being," replied Arcturus.

The elf pointed his finger at the tea tray which disappeared before he marched through the room and then through the door, closing it behind himself. A moment later a new tray with a solitary teapot appeared and Arcturus poured himself a cup.

About a minute had passed before the elf appeared in the room again, leading behind himself Mirzam, and although Sirius felt mentally prepared for seeing her, he couldn't help but let out a shaky breath when he saw her. She was wearing a utilitarian uniform, similar to the one that Sirius was wearing now. The only difference between them was that she was wearing a cape instead of a cloak, that billowed slightly after her as she walked.

Unable to resist the desire to continue looking at her, Sirius followed her and the elf to Arcturus's desk and stopped by the narrow side so he could look at both Mirzam and the younger Arcturus. Older Arcturus meanwhile stepped to the other side of the desk.

The elf led her to the armchairs that were standing in front of the desk, but made no move to invite her to sit down before he bowed his head and disappeared. For some reason she remained standing before the desk, her back ramrod straight, arms hanging by her sides in a way that was supposed to appear at ease, but one only had to look at her slightly clenched right fist to realise that she was far from relaxed.

"Lord Black," she said in an even voice as she slowly uncurled her fingers from a fist.

"You wished to see me, Auror Black?" asked younger Arcturus in equally even tone.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she all but glared at the man and briefly opened her mouth only to close it again a moment later, as if she changed her mind about what she was going to say.

"It's Auror Verascez," she said finally, in a tight voice. "Mirzam Verascez. I'm not expecting the courtesy of acknowledging me by my first name but I do request honouring my legal name."

"And Miranda Black is your legal name, is it not?" asked Arcturus in a tone that almost sounded bored. "Much more appropriate for someone of your ancestry than that garish pseudonym under which you're known. Verascez stands for truthful in Spanish, does it not?" he paused. "Ironic name for someone who hides their true identity from other people. Then there's Mirzam, the herald, of what precisely may I ask?"

"Verascez is the name of my adoptive father, a surname as ironic for him as you claim it's ironic for me. His name is Clemente and he was anything but such. His wife's name is Immaculada, just as ironic. But I didn't come here to discuss my right to carry whichever name I chose to go by, Lord Black," she said in a calm, even voice that somehow managed to border on icy.

"Then pray tell, Auror Black," said Arcturus calmly, laying all of the accent on the surname, "what brings you here?"

She took a slow, steading breath before she said softly, "It's your grandson, Lord Black."

"My grandson," Arcturus repeated the word. "What do you wish to tell me that I haven't already heard through the grapevine? That he didn't put himself in harm's way because of you?" he paused. "A friend of his has been heard making comments about his slow but steady recovery…"

"Wouldn't that friend happen to be named James Potter?" she asked flatly.

"Yes," confirmed Arcturus. "A good friend of his from what I heard, and a relative, in case you didn't know."

"I do know, Lord Black," she replied in the same flat tone, "seeing that I supported your grandson through their latest spat that steamed out of Mr Potter's inability to accept their relation. Haven't you heard about that too?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not," said Arcturus slowly. "I did hear about the passing of Fleamont and Euphemia though. I just assumed that the distancing from his friend was a sign of grief. I expected them to tell their boy about their relation to his friend a couple of years ago."

"Well, they didn't, and for some reason Mr Potter decided to hold your grandson accountable for the decision of his de facto parents. As if he was a deciding party in it, considering that at the time of Mr Potter's birth he was barely strong enough to sit on his own," she replied.

"My mistake as much as theirs," admitted Arcturus. "If not greater," he sighed as he rubbed his temple.

She said nothing.

"And you're neither confirming nor denying that I made one," added Arcturus slowly.

"I'm in no place to judge your actions, Lord Black," she said simply. "Whatever you did, for whatever reason you had chosen as valid, you gave Mr Potter a loving home and happy and unrestrained childhood. Something that your grandson quite justifiably envied."

"And for that you judge me," said Arcturus harshly.

"Not you, Lord Black, his parents," she replied calmly. "You I judge for your inability to see their faults because if you had, at any given point of time, it wouldn't have been the Potters household to which your grandson would have fled but yours. But that's not the subject of our discussion as I'm sure that in the passing years you came to regret it."

"Then what it is?" sighed Arcturus.

"His recovery," she said slowly.

"Not as steady as it's supposed to be?" asked Arcturus cautiously. "But wouldn't Mr Potter be aware of his state as his next of kin…"

"He would have been aware of his state if he indeed was your grandson's next of kin. As things stand your grandson revoked that privilege following their spat to a slight relief of our administration. They aren't exactly fond of having their unmarried Aurors handing the status of next of kin and power of attorney to people unable to recognise the direness of certain circumstances. The privilege of being your grandson's next of kin and the power of attorney instead has been handed to me," she replied calmly.

Arcturus motioned at her to sit down, finally. She did so, choosing the armchair on her right, finally slouching slightly even though she didn't lean back.

"As things stand everything that Mr Potter hears from your grandson's healers is filtered through me and I…" she hesitated. "I told them to relate to Mr Potter and the rest of his friends only the things that relate to his current state and not his prognosis."

"I won't ask why, as I do know the boy," muttered Arcturus. "What's Sirius's prognosis?" he asked and he sounded genuinely concerned.

"Bleak," she whispered softly. "He is stable now but getting weaker with each passing day and…" she hesitated and clasped her hands together in such tight hold that her fingers paled. "The curse in front of which he stepped…" she hesitated again. "The healers claim that it would kill him within three weeks if he's lucky and a fortnight if he's not. He receives blood replenishing potion every six hours right now and within two days, three at the most the dosage will be increased to every four hours. Within a week they're expecting him to require the transfusion variant and already asked me if I would be able to contact a willing donor…" she paused again.

"So you came here to ask for my blood," said Arcturus slowly.

"No," she said softly.

Arcturus frowned and he whispered back, "No?"

"I already made contact with the willing donor," she explained slowly. "He doesn't know that I will ask him for it but I have no reason to doubt his willingness to extend your grandson's life."

Arcturus's frown deepened for a moment only to give way to a thoughtful expression before he nodded and said softly, "Regulus."

She nodded slowly.

"Then what did you come here for if not blood?" asked Arcturus pensively. "To tell me that if I want to pay my respects to him then I should do so now rather than later on?"

"No," she replied quickly.

"No?" repeated Arcturus praising her denial as a question. "Why did you come here then, Auror Black?"

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out before she opened her mouth only to close it again as she closed her eyes.

"Your grandson," she started slowly, "was hit with two curses simultaneously. The first that hit him was Acid Spear of Jerusalem, caught him right in the chest, causing him to stumble into the path of the curse that was meant for me…"

"Acid Spear of Jerusalem to that area alone should have killed him instantly," said Arcturus softly.

"It almost did," she replied softly. "His heart stopped beating immediately and he collapsed. We had no potions on us and our healer training was rudimental at best. Nothing that went beyond what Madam Pomfrey taught all of the Auror candidates. So I had to resort to Muggle CPR, I got him steady enough for transport but in St Mungo's his heart stopped again, the healers managed to stabilize him but informed me quite sternly that most likely he wouldn't be able to survive the night," she paused to take a deep breath. "But he pulled through and for a while it looked like he was getting better…"

"Before his health took a turn to worse," finished Arcturus quietly. "What was the spell that was meant for you?"

"Blood Purifier," she whispered.

Arcturus paled considerably.

"It took the Healers two days to find it and two minutes to disillusion me that they would be able to provide him with more than palliative care," she said quietly. "Had he been in full health when the curse struck him the progress of the course would be hindered and it would have taken him between two to three months to succumb to it."

"Closer to six," sighed Arcturus. "Blood Purifier is a slow and deceptive murder weapon, Auror Black. Luckily it was quite treacherous to the caster too which is why it was lost in the darkness of history. It still lives in the memories and libraries of wizards of old though."

"I know," she whispered.

"And that's why you came to me," said Arcturus slowly as he looked her in the eyes. "As much as it pains me, I have to disappoint you, Auror Black. My family preserved the memory of the curse's existence and its likely outcome. A couple of my ancestors have lost their lives to it and a couple more of them devoted their life to trying to come up with a counter to it, but none of them succeeded," he added grimly.

"There's got to be something, Lord Black," she said earnestly.

"I'm afraid there isn't," replied Arcturus slowly in a soft, barely audible voice. "I'm sorry."

"Please," she choked out.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, Auror Black," said Arcturus softly.

"Please," she repeated. "I would do anything if only there's a chance to save him. That's all I'm asking for, Lord Black."

Arcturus stared at her for a long moment.

"You're young, Auror Black. You have your entire life ahead of you. Why you're willing to throw it away for him?" he asked finally, in a calm, soft voice.

"If that's what it would take to save him," she said softly. "Then so be it."

"It's your life," repeated Arcturus.

"That I owe to him in the first place," she replied calmly. "If you know my name then you know what became of my family."

"I do and I'm sorry for your loss," said Arcturus quietly.

"That loss is painful still but it was because of him that I avoided losing my life," she said in the same calm tone. "He saved my life, at no expense of his own after giving it back to me in the first place," she paused for a moment. "We were children that couldn't be more different even if we tried and yet," she paused again, "we found in each other something that the other found lacking. He found a jaded little girl that all she could see was the miserable existence under the care of people I wouldn't have trusted with a potted plant, much less a group of children. He gave me hope for a better future in a world where my parents couldn't touch me or my brothers. All I had to do was to wait for the right time," she paused once more. "I loved him for that alone, with all the fierceness of a child starved for being seen as something more than an inconvenience or…" she choked on words. "He saved me from myself, from the darkness that was slowly starting to consume me even though I didn't know that at the time."

For a moment she remained silent, and Arcturus did nothing that would have broken the silence in the room.

"But when we arrived at Hogwarts, the boy that I knew and grew to love was gone, replaced by a boy that looked like him, spoke like him but was nothing like the caring, patient boy I knew. He was spiteful, arrogant, and as I soon learned, cruel," she continued. "So when he finally approached me, calling me by the name I no longer used, I told him to go back to his friends and never bother me again. Which he did, five years we spent apart, not exchanging more than a couple of sentences during classes, until one day while I was at work I found him. He was miserable, terrified and deserted by his friends and family. I couldn't help but to reach out, for nothing more than old times sake," she paused for a moment. "And little by little I found the boy I knew again. I let him rant and rave and cry, and before I realised it, I had learned more about him in a matter of days than all of his friends had learned in a span of six years. He trusted me with stuff which he couldn't bring himself to share with them. He bared his soul, his heart and his mind to me and I found myself doing the same. I told him things I never shared with anyone, and when his friends deserted him completely, I was there for him when no one else was," she paused again and took a deep breath. "My Grandma, may she finally rest in peace, told me that the opposite of love is not hate, rather it is indifference, because if you hate someone that means that you still care for them and that you still remain connected. I didn't stand a chance and that's your answer. I'm willing to throw my life away for him because without him I have no life. As much as it offends your sensibilities he's it for me."

For a long moment nothing but silence filled the room.

"You love him," said Arcturus finally.

"I thought that I made it blatantly obvious," she replied calmly. "If you want me to beg for his life, I will," she added softly. "I will beg even though I've never begged for anything."

"And you're willing to do anything to save him," said Arcturus slowly. "Are you aware that by wizarding standards anything literally means…"

"Anything," she finished steadily.

Suddenly the scene before Sirius's eyes morphed even though the room remained the same. Instead of night it was daylight, and the previously partially drawn curtains were pulled wide open. Arcturus still remained seated on his desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment, but the stacks of papers on the desk changed sizes. On the other side of the desk, in the same chair in which Mirzam once sat, there was a different woman and she was reading a book.

Much like Mirzam she had long, curly, jet-black hair, that unlike Mirzam's hung freely around her face. She had an aquiline nose and like Mirzam quite distinct cheekbones. But her lips were fuller, complexion darker, and when she looked over her book at Arcturus while she turned the pages, Sirius could see clearly her brown eyes. It was Grandma Mel just as Sirius remembered her.

She smiled at Arcturus and he smiled back at her. A sense of old camaraderie could be felt in the room even though neither of them had said a word. A moment passed like that when something akin to a shock had passed through the room.

"Told you that she would figure it out in less than twenty-four hours, Rus," said Grandma Mel as she closed her book and placed it on the desk. "Pay up," she added as she extended her hand.

"I'm afraid that I left my pouch in the cloaking room, Mel," replied Arcturus dryly.

"Well, you should have known better than betting against a Ravenclaw," Grandma said simply. "Especially on another Ravenclaw."

Somewhere far away outside of the room, but still close enough to be heard, a door banged open and then shut. At that sound Grandma stood up, turning her body slightly towards the door, but with her face still towards Arcturus she said, "Well, here comes Lady Black and she's furious."

"You aren't deserting me, are you?" asked Arcturus cautiously.

"I'm all but my Lord's humble servant, but I'm no Lady anymore. The matters that concern Lord and Lady Black should be discussed by Lord and Lady Black," she replied briskly as she turned her face towards the door just as it burst open.

The Mirzam that appeared in the doorway looked nothing like the pale ghost from the previous visit. She was still quite pale and looked exhausted, but her eyes were sparkling with fury and her cheeks were covered with a blush from exertion.

"Lord Black, Lady Black," she said tightly as she approached them.

"Mrs Black, my Lady," Mel corrected her calmly. "The noble houses have only one Lord and Lady each."

"Of that much I'm aware, Lady Black," said Mirzam crisply. "And that's exactly the reason why I came here today."

"I'm quite certain that St Mungo's keeps a small parliament of owls for the disposal of patients and their loved ones. I'm sure that you could have spared a moment…" started Arcturus.

But Mirzam was not having it and interrupted him quite firmly, "So you could have some time to vacate the premises?"

"I was more thinking along the line of changing my morning robes for dragonhide, but now that you mentioned it, that idea should have occurred to me right after dressing myself in dragonhide," replied Arcturus in a somewhat sheepish tone. "Pray tell how is our grandson faring?"

"Recovering quite splendidly. His healers are all astounded with his miraculous recovery and I'm up to my ears with repeating the nonsense about the power of love. If I have to repeat it once more I will summon a giant bag of sherbet lemons and stuff it whole into the questioners mouth," replied Mirzam angrily.

"Not a fan of the Headmaster then," said Arcturus dryly. "That's good, that's quite excellent."

"The word love holds no meaning if it isn't backed by actions of the one who says it," replied Mirzam tersely. "And speaking of actions," she added quickly. "What the hell is this supposed to be?" she asked as she raised her right hand towards Arcturus.

On her right ring finger was a gleaming, silver-looking wedding band and a silver-looking ring with an unpolished emerald in it.

Arcturus looked at it with unhidden interest, that made Sirius look at the man of his own time. He was smiling fondly at the scene.

"The readapted insignia that was designed for Lady Black's use," replied the younger Arcturus briskly. "Platinum, much more valued by my ancestors once they discovered that it's more durable than silver. Emerald to emphasize the family's Slytherin legacy, unpolished to emphasize that she herself doesn't need to be polished for she has been chosen for her own value."

"My husband is obviously teasing you, My Lady," replied Grandma with a small smile. "Emerald represents youth in the age of man, symbolizes hope and the future, renewal and growth. It's a stone of inspiration and infinite patience, it embodies unity, compassion and unconditional love. It promotes friendship and balance between partners, the basics of domestic bliss, contentment and loyalty."

"All in all a perfect stone for a long and lasting marriage," added Arcturus dryly.

"And that's the part which I'm having a problem with," said Mirzam with a snort.

"Was marriage to our grandson not something you wished for?" asked Grandma with a curious expression on her face.

"Eventually," admitted Mirzam tightly. "Maybe a few years down the line, possibly in the company of our friends and most certainly while he was conscious and aware of being married to me," she added icily.

"He was," replied Arcturus simply. "In the moment it was happening."

Mirzam cursed softly under her breath. Sirius meanwhile looked questioningly at the Arcturus of his own time. He had no memory of such a thing taking place.

"There is a question which you're failing to ask," continued Arcturus. "A quite valid one."

"If I'm not asking it it's because I know that you're dying to tell me anyway," replied Mirzam. "But fine, I'll humour you, why?" she asked.

"Because I needed something that steadied him," replied Arcturus. "Only several bonds can do that, and neither does he have children of his own, nor was I able to see Orion or Walburga lining up to help preserve his life. The ritual through which you were bonded in a loosely understood marriage is an old one, a relic of the ancient times when the word of the Head of the House alone was the law. For some time it served as a marriage ritual, before the knowledge of it was lost in the darkness of history. Back in tribal times before Christianity spread out like fire and rotted out old practices, the sign of commitment of a man to a woman was taking her into his homestead and sharing the same sleeping space just like hers to him was her increasing size. No wizards of old tribes bound their hands with their wives until they proved their fertility by carrying their children."

"Or what they believed to be their children," said Mirzam cynically. "The mother is always certain, Lord Black. But here's the thing, I'm not with his child."

"Not as important as the fact that you did lie with him like man and wife," said Arcturus simply.

"Not in recent years," grumbled Mirzam as she blushed furiously. "And how the hell do you know that?" she asked suspiciously.

"Ability of reading between the lines," said Arcturus dryly. "You said that he bared himself to you and you to him. That's a specific choice of words that implies one more baring you hadn't told me about. Emotionally vulnerable people seek out physical comfort, teenagers even more so. I'm unable to pinpoint a specific time and place…"

"And thank Merlin for that," muttered Mirzam.

"But we had seen you together the summer I'm quite sure it happened. Sirius comes from an old family where physical comfort has been scarce and almost exclusively reserved for women. I offered as much as I could as long as he was willing to accept anyone's touch, but both our son and his wife had done enough damage for him to shy away from physical contact," said Grandma gently.

"And even though you didn't act as such, the level of physical intimacy between you wasn't that of close friends rather than new lovers. A contact that he initiated just as much as he received, with a level of acceptance we hadn't seen since he was a child. I have no idea why it ended…" said Arcturus.

"I do," muttered Mirzam. "And that's another bone that I need to pick with you, but we can reschedule that discussion for later."

"Point is, you slept together at some point in the past," said Grandma swiftly. "On top of that, your magic although quite different, is sympathetic towards each other. You're partners on a physical and magical level."

"Traditionally the act of bonding occurred in childbirth, to help ease the way for the fruit of mutual love," continued Arcturus. "What mattered for me to ensure the success of the ritual was this brief window of time when your magic had been connected. It ensured that while the ritual was cleansing him he remained tethered to life, through you."

"Point," grunted Mirzam. "Still?" she asked as she raised her right hand and wriggled her fingers.

"Well, it took," replied Arcturus simply.

"Bullshit," snorted Mirzam.

"Dragon's dung, my dear, you're a witch, curse like one," quipped Grandma.

"Mudblood," countered Mirzam.

"It's such a plebeian word," sighed Grandma.

"I'm a plebe," replied Mirzam. "My mother was an Irish harlot that spread herself before every man that was willing to pay her, and my father…"

"Is a psychopathic sycophant that led his own sister into a suicide, and if we were living in a matriarchal society you and none of your siblings would have been born because he would be hanged on the nearest tree by the family jewels before either of you had been born," finished Grandma tartly.

"What my dear wife is saying," interjected Arcturus, "is that it doesn't matter where and to whom one has been born. Being born in the stables doesn't make you a bloody hippogriff. Everybody is a master of their own destiny, some simply have it far easier than others."

Mirzam rolled her eyes at that before she asked, "How do I undo it?"

The look that passed between the younger Arcturus and Grandma Mel was one with which Sirius was familiar, and for him it nearly always meant that he wasn't going to like what would come out of either of their mouths.

"By breaking the tether," replied Arcturus slowly.

"And how exactly will I have to do it?" asked Mirzam tartly, in a tone that heavily indicated that she felt as if she was speaking to an idiot.

"Just like witches of old did," said Grandma slowly. "You need to take a man, lie with him like man and wife, ensure that the laying had an effect and give birth to the fruit of your mutual laying."

"And by man, my dear wife means, any man that isn't our grandson," added Arcturus, quite sheepishly.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," groaned Mirzam. "And then what?" she snorted. "Am I supposed to set the kid on fire on something?"

"No," replied Grandma Mel, barely resisting the urge to smile. "You need to ensure that our grandson does the same with another woman."

"Okay, I've had enough," replied Mirzam. "Bye," she added as she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. But just before the door shut behind her she yelled out, "Thanks for being maddeningly unhelpful."

"You know that she will eventually figure out that you have been pulling the tail of her broomstick, don't you?" asked Grandma Mel with a smirk.

"Well, I spent a significant number of years married to a Ravenclaw, and over the years I learned that the best way to defuse a furious Ravenclaw is to redirect her fury into research, at least for a little while," replied Arcturus dryly. "I'm not worried."

"You should be," Grandma pointed out dryly.

"Why wasn't I told?" asked Sirius as the room slowly returned to its current state.

"Her choice, not mine," sighed Arcturus.

"Considering that you didn't exactly leave her a choice to begin with I'm not surprised," observed Sirius and snorted.

Now that he said it, it was glaringly obvious. Mirzam had spent many years relying on the whims of old men to do right by her, or if not right, then at the very least decent. Until she had enough of being used for someone's else purpose. In that regard she and Sirius were similar, with little to no control over their own lives in their childhood and teenage years, they both bloomed into paranoid control freaks in adulthood.

A marriage without her consent, a marriage without his consent. She would have ignored it, forgotten all about it, and maybe attempted to force her rings down Grandpa's throat. She most certainly didn't wear them, at all, or not around Sirius at the very least. Because wearing them meant that she accepted having her hand forced.

"She didn't wear the rings," he said slowly.

"Not at all times," agreed Arcturus. "But Mel was quite adamant about her wearing them when she was here. So after one drop off too much, she enchanted them to stay put until you removed them yourself, and because she was a merciful soul regardless, the other enchantment kept them invisible to all that she didn't want to be made aware of her status."

"Not that it helped her in the long run," sighed Sirius.

"No, it did not," sighed Arcturus heavily. "I'm sorry, Sirius."

"Not your fault," Sirius said with another sigh. "If it's anyone's fault then it's mine and Bella's."

"We knew about your son," said Arcturus quietly. "Long before she had figured it out. The tapestry in the heart doesn't hide such a thing, and your grandmother always had a sixth sense for that. But we also knew how fragile a thing a pregnancy is, especially for someone with such a risky job, Mel advised not to put pressure on her until she realised that she was with child. Maybe if…" he paused.

"I proposed to her," admitted Sirius. "The day she died."

"I know," sighed Arcturus and then he chuckled mirthlessly. "After you had fallen asleep she wrote us. Told us to expect both of you the next day at the manor and to be prepared for one hell of an argument, even if she was supposed to have you both call in sick."

"Why?" asked Sirius curiously. "Granted for the whole marriage without consent thing you deserved a proper dressing down, and don't think that you are getting away with it…"

"She found Regulus," Arcturus interrupted him softly.

Sirius opened and closed his mouth slowly. Then opened it again only to close it after a moment.

"Came in here on 29th July," continued Arcturus. "Cryptic and agitated with a manic glint in her eyes, told us to dress Muggle and follow her. Brought us to the hospital, told us that the boy whom we could barely recognise was our other grandson," he paused. "It had taken a long time to sink in, even longer considering the state he was in and what followed," he shook his head.

Her death.

"She told you," whispered Sirius.

She didn't tell me, he didn't say.

"She was planning to," said Arcturus as if he heard what Sirius didn't say. "Perhaps she came to the conclusion that telling you between shifts wasn't the wisest thing to do as the news without doubt would upset or agitate you. Perhaps she decided that it was safer to drop one bomb at a time," he sighed. "He will be told, that's what her note had said."

"Why wasn't I told after she died?" asked Sirius softly.

"Because she wasn't the only one that died," said Arcturus softly. "Not literally, of course, but for a long time it felt like…" he paused and shook his head. "For many years I couldn't decide what was worse. Losing the one you love and hope to spend the rest of your life with in a tragic but swift manner…"

"Or?" interjected Sirius.

"Or watch how a vicious malady robs her blind of everything she was, and what awaited her in the future, even after a significant number of years that you spent together while expecting to spend even more…" said Arcturus and he shook his head again. "The same afternoon Miranda died, Mel had a stroke, a massive one that kept her in St Mungo's for many days in a critical condition. I'd been told to expect the worst for days on end, I had expected the worst for many more after that. Eventually, after the healers had done everything that they could to stabilise her, I was allowed to take her home," he paused for a moment and then he added with a snort. "To die, I have been told."

"Did she?" asked Sirius softly.

"No," replied Arcturus. "No thanks to that merry bunch of Martians," he added crisply.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Sirius.

"I didn't want to worry you," sighed Arcturus. "I didn't want to remind you, and I know you Sirius, don't deny that. You would have remembered, you would sit by her bedside and think about what you had lost. I didn't want to add to that."

"She was…" he hesitated, "still is my grandmother," he added harshly. "Just because you're older than me you don't get to decide what's best for me, not since the door of Grimmauld Place slammed shut behind me. I was twenty years old for Merlin's sake."

"And if your godson turns twenty will you suddenly stop carrying about him and turn off the desire to protect him?" asked Arcturus sceptically.

No. Because between Dumbledore, Voldemort and being Voldemort's Horcrux the chances of Harry living up to twenty at the very moment were miniscule. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"How is she now?" he asked finally.

"Alive," sighed Arcturus. "Thanks to Louise. Mobile, also thanks to Louise and her small army of helpers. But nothing that she or the others have tried could reverse the damage done to her brain. She speaks very little, almost exclusively gibberish, and is very childlike in her behaviour. She needs constant supervision because she has the mind and sense of self-preservation of a toddler with quite impressive dexterity."

"Did it make you stop loving her?" asked Sirius pensively.

"Merlin no," protested Arcturus. "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…"

"… to love and to cherish till death us do part," Sirius finished with him.

For a moment they were both quiet.

"What about Reg?" asked Sirius finally.

"What about him?" asked Arcturus with frown.

"Didn't he deserve being looked after?" asked Sirius pointedly.

"He was being looked after, Sirius," replied Arcturus grimly. "My knowledge of Muggle medicine is quite limited but I did ask about his prognosis."

"And?" pressed Sirius.

"I chose to leave him in a place where he had around the clock care provided by people who knew what they were doing. Maybe if the scan…" started Arcturus and shook his head. "I visited him, when I'd been ordered out of the manor, to take a break."

"But you didn't take him in when he woke up," Sirius pointed out bitterly. "You left him there, alone, without magic and without protection."

"You're quite fast to jump to his defence," observed Arcturus. "All things considered…"

"Of course I am, he's my brother for crying out loud," snarled Sirius. "I'm not saying that he's a saint. Neither was I. Each of us chose his own way to survive. Yes, at certain point of time he was on his knees in front of a lunatic. But so did I, the only difference between me and him is that we both believed in our causes. Fat load of good it did to both of us," he added angrily.

Arcturus stayed silent.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but hadn't you been the one who told me, repeatedly I should add, that law is the law but blood is blood?" he continued. "At the very least he had done a better job of looking after people that mattered to me than you ever did."

"Not a hard choice to make when one's hands aren't tied up," replied Arcturus icily.

"Yeah, by looking after your wife with the help of an army of elves," retorted Sirius. "How many of them do you have in here? Fifty?"

In answer, Arcturus coughed something that sounded like two hundred something.

"Great," snorted Sirius. "You have no excuses," he spat bitterly. "You had primacy over the Potter family and at any given point in time you could have challenged Dumbledore and the entire Ministry for the rights of raising Harry."

"With the blood claim belonging to your other loving grandfather who raised your mother, a raving lunatic; your uncle that married his own fucking cousin. He was also the one responsible for the stellar upbringing of that cousin of yours that murdered your wife and unborn son," snarled Arcturus. "Wanna guess how that godson of yours would have turned out if he was raised by them?" he asked bitterly.

"You were the Head of the Black family," countered Sirius. "Grandpa Pollux was on your leash so don't you dare to hide behind the blood claim because your claim would have trumped his. Especially once you decided to name Harry in loco heir to the head of the Black family," he snarled angrily. "You really have no excuses."

Arcturus's eyes narrowed and he raised his hand in which a wand had appeared. Sirius could feel the hair on the back of his neck raising and he barely resisted the urge of raising his own wand. Older than him or not, his grandfather was no more the head of the Black family or the man of the house, if he dared…

But instead of hexing Sirius, Arcturus pointed at the pensieve from which another silver mist had risen.

This time the room around them changed completely to one of the hallways leading to the courtrooms. It was a familiar pathway, through which Sirius had walked many times, but one that had always made him feel a little ill at ease.

If the location itself didn't make him a bit apprehensive about the memory, then most certainly the thunderous look on Arcturus's face did. It wasn't a look that Sirius saw often, especially in relation to something that he specifically had done, but every time he did, at the barest minimum sparks were flying.

For a very brief moment he wondered who managed to piss off Arcturus so much for the careful, controlled façade to slip from his face to reveal the face of a rabid dog. Perhaps it was a wrong comparison and one that should be applied to himself rather than his grandfather, but he and Arcturus shared similar features as well as mannerism, especially in anger. Therefore it was easy to make such a comparison.

The corridor around them was deserted, devoid of any people aside from younger Arcturus and themselves. But Arcturus actually hadn't had gotten very far, no further than the door to courtroom number four, when he was pushed into the dark niche by the door by something or someone invisible.

As Sirius expected him to do, Arcturus wasted no time in revealing the opponent that to Sirius utter shock and dismay had been Mad-Eye Moody. Because it was also Moody he wasn't pussyfooting with Arcturus either and within seconds they had their wands pointed at each other's throats as they glared at each other.

"Still at it?" asked Moody icily.

"Not your bloody business," replied Arcturus icily.

"I beg to differ," replied Moody. "Your continued harassment is making it my business. I don't know what sort of mistaken delusion you're harbouring but if I have something to say about it you and none from your family will never as much as look at the boy."

"And I don't know what exactly you've been drinking from that flask of yours, Mad-Eye but you aren't exactly…" started Arcturus angrily.

"… aware on how thin ice you're stepping," finished Moody with an ugly smile. "Azkaban is quite a dangerous place."

"Indeed it is," agreed Arcturus icily. "Are you threatening to throw me in there too?" he growled.

"I'm not threatening," said Moody simply. "If I had something on you that would have allowed me to throw and keep you there you would already be sharing a neighbourhood cell with your good for nothing grandson," he growled. "Speaking of whom," he added and paused for a moment. "It would be a terrible shame indeed if something bad had happened to him."

"Like what?" asked Arcturus through gritted teeth.

"Oh, you know the usual," replied Moody simply. "Assholes like him are occasionally due for a shower once in a while, and you know Azkaban. An island in the middle of sea, damp and quite slippery. It would be a shame if a prisoner under the name of Sirius Black slipped down the stairs and broke his neck."

Arcturus swallowed tickly before he said quietly, "A shame indeed."

"Glad we agree," replied Moody. "I hope that you will bear that in mind before you decide to harass the Minister or the Headmaster again," he added before he turned on his heel and started walking away.

The memory finished seconds after that with Arcturus glaring at Moody's retreating back, and the room around them returned to its normal state. Just in time too, because Sirius's knees for a second time today decided to give up. Luckily, this time he didn't collapse on the floor and merely sagged on the back of the couch.

Moody. His mentor, the one whose judgement he had trusted implicitly. The one that he hoped would look at the evidence and…

"Don't turn people into heroes, Sirius," Mirzam once said. "That way you won't be disappointed by their fall."

And how they had all fallen. Even Mirzam. James too, Dumbledore…

"So you believed him?" whispered Sirius as he stared at the floor.

"He made a very compelling argument," replied Arcturus grimly. "Zugzwang."

"More like a stalemate," replied Sirius grimly as he raised his head. "If you went after Harry, most likely you would have signed my death sentence, and if you went after me, Harry would have been…"

"… even more guarded than he already was," finished Arcturus. "Possibly even brought up by Dumbledore himself, spoon fed with his ideology and completely brainwashed."

"Not that he avoided being brainwashed in the end," said Sirius with a snort. "What were you planning to do?" he asked pensively. "I know you, you're a Slytherin through and through, you always have a plan."

"My plan was to ensure your survival while at the same time convincing Dumbledore that he had nothing to worry about from me," replied Arcturus grimly.

"Hence locking yourself in here for ten years, hoping that Grandpa Pollux or Uncle Cygnus would attempt to lay a claim," finished Sirius. "With you being dead, your will would have been read out, and due to its restricted form, at the age of seventeen Harry would have been handed the inheritance he had no idea of, and knowing you, if he was the one who put on the ring…"

"He would have ended up in here and wouldn't leave this place until at the very least I had managed to plant seeds of doubt about Dumbledore's schemes," finished Arcturus.

"Assuming that you would be able to uproot sixteen years of brainwashing," said Sirius with a grimace.

"You don't believe my talent in persuasion?" asked Arcturus sceptically.

"I used to," said Sirius with a sigh.

"But you no longer do?" asked Arcturus with a sigh of his own.

"After the shit you actually pulled off?" asked Sirius with a snort. "Oh, I believe you, Grandpa, but I do not trust you. You've done nothing to earn it, literally nothing. If you want me to trust you, you have to prove that you're worthy of it."

"What do you require of me?" asked Arcturus, quite eagerly.

"I'm no longer in Azkaban and Harry is no longer a pawn on Dumbledore's board. And because I have to make sure that he won't make it back there again, I have neither the time nor additional strength left to play politics," replied Sirius slowly. "Clear my name and maybe, just maybe I will consider trusting you again."

TBC


Next: Arcturus sorts out the problems with Hermione's parents.