All We Need Is More Time

Chapter 53

Thursday, August 21

"Look, it sounds brilliant," Sirius agreed quietly. "But I can't allow anything like this unless I am guaranteed that it won't lead to us being caught."

"We knew you'd say that," said Fred, hands inside his pockets as he walked along with Sirius. "George, Lee and I have been working on it. We'll be using a pirated signal, so it should be detectable only if we use it more than two times in a single location. As long as we keep shifting our broadcast locations, it should be a piece of cake."

Sirius frowned, not at all appeased. "We'll need security during the broadcast then. That means we'll need ten, or at least seven members assigned just for this. Do you realize that's half of all we're left now? It'll be too much of a risk, Fred."

"Blimey, it's not going to be every day, Sirius," said Fred. "Perhaps, once or twice a month?"

"That's still risking everyone's lives unnecessarily."

"Look at how useful it will be," Fred pointed out. "It will give everyone a cause to rally around. Everyone wants to root for a saviour."

"And get their hopes up that Harry is going to kill Vol—You-Know-Who?" ground out Sirius.

"That's already what everyone reckons is going to happen," said Fred, shrugging his shoulder. "We needn't confirm nor deny. Besides, it'll be a splendid way of announcing to everyone out there, that there is a resistance and they're invited to join in too."

Sirius remained quiet, mulling over Fred's words. He reckoned it'd be useful. People were getting news from the like of The Daily Prophet, which blatantly vilified the Order. Sure, there were some sources like The Quibbler who shed some positive light on them, but all they could give people was guesswork. And Sirius did agree with Fred's words, albeit reluctantly: Everyone wanted to root for a saviour. That they considered it to be Harry was out of his hands, no matter how much he hated the idea.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "This might be one of the stupidest and coolest things I ever agreed to do in a long time."

Fred scoffed. "Come off it! Nothing could be cooler than becoming an Animagus! Or breaking out of Azkaban. Or turning up at the Ministry when you're a wanted…"

"Is there a point you're trying to make?" asked Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

Fred snorted and they both stopped their walk to look around them, making sure the street was deserted. They crossed the road and marched up the driveway of a house, which belonged to one of the muggleborn children from Hogwarts' roster. Fred rang the doorbell and they waited.

"What's the boy's name again?" asked Sirius. He could be forgiven the lapse of memory. He couldn't possibly remember all of the children's names they had been assigned.

The door was opened by a fairly young woman with dark hair, looking politely puzzled.

"Andrew Coven?" asked Fred.

"That's my son," she said, her eyes narrowing. "And you are?"

"Mrs. Coven, my name is Sirius Black," said Sirius, smiling casually to ease the woman's apprehension. "I'm here to talk about your son and his admittance to Hogwarts."

The woman's eyes widened and she spoke in a hushed voice. "Oh! You're from that school?"

"More or less," said Sirius. "May we please have this conversation inside? We won't take more than ten minutes of your time."

The woman nodded and let them in to a small but comfortable living room. Sirius always did like the muggles' taste in decorating their homes. It was simple and functional. He was looking around appreciatively when Fred called out, "Hey Andrew! Nice to meet you."

Sirius turned to look at a small boy standing by the staircase when the smile he had plastered on his face in welcome, froze at the sight of him.

Harry?

The boy in front of him had black hair and bright green eyes. Sirius hadn't realized he was staring at the boy when Mrs. Coven cleared her throat, looking suspiciously at him.

Sirius blinked. Of course, the boy looked nothing like Harry. He didn't wear glasses and his black hair was neatly combed in a way that Harry's could never have achieved.

But for a moment he had been blinded by longing.

He shook his head and smiled in apology. "Sorry, you just reminded me of my godson."

"Why? Is he dead?"

It was an innocent question from an eleven-year old boy's mouth, but Sirius' stomach had dropped to the floor at those words.

"Andrew!" chided his mum before turning to Sirius apologetically. "I'm sorry, he didn't mean…"

Fred intervened cheerfully, "Dead? He's Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived and bloody brilliant seeker who can outfly even seasoned Quidditch players. You'll meet him one day if you're lucky!"

The boy cocked his head to the side. "What's Quidditch?"

Fred put a hand to his heart. "You don't know what Quidditch is? Why, it's only the most amazing sport you will ever witness in Wizarding Britain! We fly on brooms to throw the Quaffle—"

The boy's eyes shone in curiosity. "You can fly on brooms?"

"Of course! All wizards and witches can—"

"Whoa, so cool!" The boy exclaimed before turning to his mother. "I want to go to Hogwarts now, mum!"

"Remember what Professor Flitwick said, Andy," said Mrs. Coven to her son, adoringly. "You catch the Hogwarts Express on—"

"September, the first!" finished Andrew, jumping excitedly. "I can't wait to fly on brooms!"

"Andy's a little too excited," said Mrs. Coven beaming, holding her son's shoulder.

Sirius was loathed to break the boy's bubble. But he'd rather see his dreams destroyed than his life.

"That's what we wanted to discuss with you, Mrs. Coven," began Sirius. "Your son should not go to Hogwarts this year."

The boy stared open-mouthed at Sirius. "What? Why not?"

"Because Hogwarts is not safe," explained Sirius. "Especially to children like you. Born to two muggle parents, I mean."

Mrs. Coven was shocked and even angry. "Are you saying they will discriminate against my boy?"

"Discriminate, torture or even kill," said Sirius, grimacing.

Mrs. Coven looked faint as she clutched her son. "What? Professor Flitwick never said that!"

"It wasn't always like this, you know," said Fred, solemnly. "Muggleborns have been welcome in our society for centuries. My best friends are muggleborn and we had a great time in Hogwarts. But things have changed, just a month ago in fact."

"There is a wizard who thinks muggleborns are beneath him," said Sirius. "Him and his followers, they want to enslave people like you. We've been fighting against him for nearly half a century. He was defeated the last time around and we have had relative peace. But now he's grown strong again. There's a war going on at this time and it is best if you and your son went into hiding, before they hunted you down."

Mrs. Coven looked like she couldn't believe anything they were saying. "Are you saying this man – this wizard – will kill my son?"

"And you," finished Sirius. "Every muggleborn and their family is fair game to them. You need to move away from here as quick as possible."

"Please tell me you're joking," she said with a half-laugh. "I'm already not able to process the fact that my son has magical powers. It's taken me and my husband a month to come to terms with it."

"Unfortunately, you don't have that much time," said Fred. "We're trying to warn all the muggleborn children to make sure they keep away from Hogwarts this year. The Death Eaters will definitely notice your son's absence and will come searching for him."

"Death Eaters…?"

"That's what his followers call themselves."

There was absolute silence as Mrs. Coven seemed speechless. Sirius could not imagine what the woman must be feeling.

"How can I believe you?" she asked, frowning. "Are you some official representative from the school?"

"The Hogwarts' Board of Governors has already been taken over by him," said Sirius. "They're not going to come to you with a warning. They'll be waiting for your son to go to Hogwarts where he'll be trapped and out of your reach."

The woman's eyes widened at the thought and she hugged her son tighter.

"I realize it's a lot to process," said Sirius. "But know that we have lost people from our side – friends and family – in the war too. This is not a warning you should take lightly. For your son's safety and your own, please, move away. Go into hiding."

"Will I never go to Hogwarts?" asked the small voice from Mrs. Coven's arms.

Sirius smiled sympathetically. "Not for now, Andrew. But when all this is over, you'll go to Hogwarts. And it'll be the best seven years of your life. Trust me."

Andrew nodded reluctantly.

oOo

"That went well," said Fred.

"Counting the fact that we haven't been called 'lunatics' or 'dunderheads', I'd say it went extremely well," said Sirius, joining Fred as they walked out of the driveway, eyes on the lookout.

"Four down, twenty six more to go," said Fred merrily.

Sirius groaned.

oOo

The door clicked shut and Sirius shrugged off his jacket and threw it over the sofa. An ache was building up in his head and he massaged his forehead, slumping into his armchair.

It had been a tiring day and all he wanted to do was sleep, but Kreacher popped in and made a bow, Regulus' locket dangling from his neck proudly. "Dinner is ready, Master."

It still boggled him to see Kreacher showing him even a modicum of respect, but it might also have had to do with the fact that Sirius did not care to treat Kreacher spitefully either. He had too much on his mind and no energy to fight, so he simply nodded. "I'll be up in a moment."

When Kreacher left, Sirius was still watching his vacated spot, the locket on his neck reminding him of Harry, who he knew was responsible for Kreacher's changed behaviour.

Sirius sighed and closed his eyes. It was nearing a month and a half since Harry had left. And Harry had not made any effort to contact him so far.

Where was he? Was he doing alright?

Sirius had thought of sending Kreacher to find him, but Remus had advised him against it. If Bellatrix and Narcissa could have fooled them once with Kreacher, there was no saying if they can trust Kreacher readily again. If Kreacher found Harry and it somehow led to the Death Eaters finding him…

No, no, Sirius could never let that happen. But he was completely out of options to find his godson without creating a scene and alerting the Death Eaters that Harry was not safe under the Fidelius.

He trusted Twitchet to not let him go to starve, but there was only so much a house-elf could do.

For the hundredth time, Sirius wondered what would make him do this. Had Sirius not been supportive enough? Maybe, he should have given the Horcruxes more importance instead of brooding over Regulus. He was his little brother, but he was long gone. Nothing Sirius did was going to change that.

But Harry… Harry was everything he had left. He should have been more attentive to what he was going through. He was already reeling from Dumbledore's death and he knew Harry had depended a lot on his Headmaster. Maybe he ought to have put the Order on hold and focused on Harry first?

The part of him that did not want to back down was insistent that he had put Harry first. He had told him, multiple times in fact, that they were going to do this together. He honestly did not know what he had done wrong to deserve this.

He was startled when a soft swoosh preceded a weight on his shoulder. A soft, feathered head nuzzled his cheek.

"Hullo Hedwig," mumbled Sirius, stroking the bird's pristine white plumes. "Do you miss him too?"

She hooted sadly. Sirius had made sure Hedwig did not fly off in search of Harry. She had been angry with him for days, but then relented forlornly. She must have understood that something was wrong.

With no way of finding Harry that did not also put him in danger, Sirius knew finding the Horcruxes as soon as possible was the only way he could have his godson back.

Maybe, he had to go off of Hermione's suggestion and find some information on the relics that belonged to the founders of Hogwarts.

He sighed and stood up, foregoing his dinner as he made his way to the Potters' library.

oOo

Time flew past in a jumble of days that held no meaning to Harry. He had spent a significant portion of it going over Regulus' box which contained his books and parchment in the hope of finding anything he could about the Horcruxes.

There were hand-written notes and Harry could glean from the little information he had, that Regulus was remarkably intelligent. He had studied the subtle clues that Voldemort had dropped in when he spoke to his loyal followers and somehow gathered that Voldemort had done something to his soul.

He must have been proven right when Voldemort asked to borrow Kreacher. The house-elf would have told Regulus everything had witnessed. What Regulus did not seem to know was that Voldemort had created more than one Horcrux as Dumbledore had deduced.

Harry had perused half of Magicke Moste Evil, and only when he had stumbled over the single sentence mentioning the Horcruxes, had he belatedly remembered that Hermione had already consulted the book in the Hogwarts Library last year. Arcane Magic and its Effects had nothing on Horcruxes as did Magic at its Deepest, but at least the latter proved to be a very interesting read.

Harry had been unintentionally drawn in to it, when he began to learn about the esoteric power of magic that governed a lot of untold laws much like the laws of nature. Everything from love and sacrifice, mercy and vows, murder and remorse held deep power in the magical world. He now understood why Dumbledore was always going on that Harry's 'power that Voldemort knows not' could only mean love.

How it was going to help him against Voldemort, he did not know. But he was beginning to have faith in Dumbledore's words.

After hours and hours of incessant reading, which in itself was so unlike him, Harry was losing track of the days. He only remembered to eat because Twitchet set down his food.

Harry put down Magic at its Deepest and yawned.

He had gained nothing about Horcuxes from any of the books, besides Regulus' notes that it was a fragment of a soul that made one immortal unless destroyed.

Well, Harry had tried destroying the locket in Potter Manor, but nothing he or Sirius did had worked against it. He was already toying with a thought, that if he had destroyed Riddle's Diary with a basilisk fang, it could work this time around too.

He knew it meant he had to make a trip to Hogwarts but he found himself reluctant to do so. He contented himself with the fact that it was likely heavily protected by a Ministry that had been taken over by Voldemort and would result in him being caught. There was a whispering voice inside him that told him he could use Twitchet, but his mind ignored the possibility before it could manifest fully. Maybe, he should find the rest of the Horcruxes first.

They had already taken out the diary and the ring. Harry had the locket and there was still the Hufflepuff's cup and something of Ravenclaw's, besides Nagini. So he had to find two more.

Where would Voldemort have hidden Hufflepuff's cup? What was once Ravenclaw's that Voldemort might have used as a Horcrux?

He sighed; already he was beginning to hate the thought of having to read more books, but he latched onto the idea if only to have something to do and also put the subject of acquiring a basilisk's fang to rest for a while.

His first thought was the library in Potter Manor but he didn't dare go back again, lest Sirius found him. Only a public library had to do.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, detesting the idea of sleep. It held no comfort for him these days and he wished he could get his hands on a Dreamless Sleep Potion, just for a few hours of uninterrupted rest.

He decided that the idea was too tempting and asked Twitchet to get him some. Though she looked at him sadly, she complied with his request.

When she had vanished, Harry took to cleaning the mess that was Regulus' things and he put everything back into the box. He placed the box inside his backpack, distracted by the amusing thought that it was a bottomless box inside a bottomless backpack.

Before he could properly wrap his head around that notion, Twitchet appeared with a fresh batch of Dreamless Sleep Potion, presumably purchased from the same apothecary that Sirius frequented.

"Please, no more than half a goblet, Master," she implored him.

Harry smiled wearily. "Of course, Twitchet. You have a good night."

Once she had bowed and disappeared, Harry poured himself some of the purple potion and drank it all at once. Before he knew it, his vision went hazy and he drifted to sleep.

It seemed like he had only closed his eyes when the next minute he was opening them again. That was one facet of the Dreamless Sleep potion that he hated. Though he felt thoroughly rested, his sense of time was completely off.

Well, breakfast was on the table and sunlight was streaming in through the stone windows, so he knew it was morning and that he had slept through the night without a single vision or a whisper to disturb him.

He did not want to lounge around in the shack today, not with the surge of energy he felt after a good night's sleep. Deciding to put it to good use, he finished his breakfast and set out to Diagon Alley on his own.

He made sure to cover himself fully with his Invisibility Cloak despite drinking some of Sirius' extra potent Polyjuice Potion. Sirius had told him in passing it lasted a good nine hours and it should work perfectly if Harry was going to be in a library for a couple of hours.

It had taken some time, but Harry had almost mastered the art of Apparating perfectly with the cloak on.

Diagon Alley looked worse than the last time he had been here to grab a newspaper. There were large posters of Pius Thicknesse proclaiming to be the new Minister. But gone were the blown up versions of posters announcing security measures against Inferi. What was up there made Harry feel revolted instead.

MUGGLEBORNS AND THE DANGERS THEY POSE TO WIZARDING SOCIETY

And underneath that, photos of Sirius, and Tonks were staring back at him with the words Undesirable No. 1 and 2 respectively emblazoned across their faces.

Feeling sick of it all, Harry decided to ignore them and moved past Flourish and Blotts, turning towards Knockturn Alley. Borgin and Burke's was deserted and Harry felt a pang of pity for Borgin. Had Snape really finished him for good just as remorselessly as he had killed Dumbledore?

He pushed the thought aside too and walked along the quiet alleyway. Harry knew there was an ancient library around here only because he had wandered the streets of Diagon Alley for an entire month during the summer before his third year and had heard and seen places that he would never have noticed otherwise. The alley that ran off of Knockturn Alley was deserted. Harry made his way past The Starry Prophesier and headed towards a building simply called The Archive.

He would have gone past it if he hadn't heard from Fortescue about the library that was in Knockturn Alley since time immemorial.

'Derelict' took another meaning. The building was older than any of the surrounding ones. It didn't have a lick of paint on its walls, which were made of massive stones instead of brick. There were a couple of small windows and the single door that led inside was made of a wood so heavy, that it could only be opened after Harry whispered 'Aberto.'

The interiors made him feel vaguely like he was in Number Twelve again and thus somewhat familiar. He removed his cloak and stuffed it into his backpack. He was glad the Muggle boy he was impersonating had startlingly clear vision without any glasses on.

There were gas lamps shaped like serpents which lit up as he passed and the long shadowy corridor with its barrel arches was unwelcoming. There was a light at the end of the corridor and Harry came face-to-face with the ugliest warlock he had laid eyes on. His face was ancient, flecked with liver spots and there were only a few wisps of white hair sticking to his bald pate. His grey robes were moth-eaten and smelled musty; it took a lot of effort to keep from scrunching his nose at the odour.

The warlock was perusing a tome which was as thick as his school trunk. Harry cleared his throat in nervousness and the wizard looked up curiously.

"I need a book." Harry inwardly cursed himself for his abrupt declaration.

The warlock looked shrewdly at Harry before asking with a distinct Scottish brogue, "On wha'?"

Harry tried to keep himself from fidgeting under his intense gaze. "The founders of Hogwarts."

The 'Librarian' as Harry had mentally labelled him, furrowed his eyes. "Who told yeh about this place?"

Harry's breath hitched. "My dad," he lied swiftly.

"What's 'is name?"

Harry too furrowed his brows, mirroring the man. "I didn't think that was necessary to peruse a library?"

To his astonishment, the Librarian grinned crookedly. "Yer a nifty lad, yeh are."

He seemed pleased all of a sudden and Harry was relieved even though he had no idea what had caused it.

"Your father should've told yeh we dinnae deal with books which have nothing ta do with the Dark Arts, lad," he said. Despite his words, he picked up a lantern and jerked his head as if inviting Harry to follow him.

"It's not so much about the Dark Arts than the fact that it is about ancient history," said Harry, trailing behind the librarian, who led him inside an arched door that led to a vast room with a very high ceiling. Shelves lined the walls, with books stacked literally up to the ceiling. There were wooden staircases here and there to reach the books that were almost fifty feet above.

"We 'aven't much information 'bout the founders, 'cept for Slytherin," said the wizard. "My family is distantly related ta 'im, you see."

Harry froze and the man was amused by his wide eyes.

"You dinnae believe me," he stated matter-of-factly. "But it's the truth."

Harry was not at all inclined to believe the wizened old man despite what he said. Surely, it was a bunch of lies? Everyone wanted to pride themselves with the fact that they had some sort of connection with the founders. Except for Voldemort, who actually did have a connection, Harry was not going to believe anyone who made that claim. He chose to keep quiet about his opinion and watched the man climb up the heavy stairs and pull out dusty tomes before climbing back down.

"Here's the one with information on all o' the founders," he said, handing Harry a book that weighed as heavy as all of his school books put together. The Founders of Magical Britain it read in an embossed gold that had faded to a dull brown.

"These two have everythin' about Salazar and nobody else," he said pointing at another couple of books.

"This is quite enough really," said Harry quickly. It would take as long as he lived to read the book in his hand even once.

"Ah well, it's a fascinating read," said the man. "Yeh should come by ta get this when yeh're finished with tha' one."

"I will," lied Harry.

"Why do ya need all tha' information, if I might ask?" said the man, putting back the other two books.

"Er—research," said Harry.

"Student of Binns, eh?" snorted the wizard.

"Past student," corrected Harry.

"Did yeh know I went ta school with him? Is he still floating around?"

Harry grimaced. "Unfortunately."

The warlock cackled with glee. "How in Merlin's beard didja find a liking ta History with tha' ghost as your teacher?"

The question seemed rhetorical and Harry was glad to ignore answering him. The librarian made his way back to the front and Harry pulled up a stool underneath a desk. It was going to be a long day.

Harry had been reading and reading for how long, he knew not. But he felt a tap on his shoulder and he jerked up in alarm.

"You dinnae plan on eating at all, wee lad?" The librarian looked somewhat concerned. "It's well past lunchtime!" said the warlock.

Harry blinked in confusion. He thought he had only been here for a couple of hours but he noticed through the small windows that it was late afternoon.

"Sorry… Lost track of time" said Harry, rubbing his eyes. Suddenly, his stomach grumbled loudly and made him flush in embarrassment.

The wizened old man was looking at Harry with something akin to pity. He pulled up his gnarled-looking wand from his old robes and flourished it in front of Harry. A small bowl of soup and bread appeared and the librarian said, "Have something ta eat before you drown yourself into those books again."

Harry smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

The warlock grinned when Harry dug into the bowl of soup and pulled up a seat opposite to Harry. "If you're lookin' for somethin' particular, you can ask me, yeh know…"

Harry swallowed his bread nervously and after a moment of consideration, decided it would be okay if he asked only the barest of details.

"I'm interested in Rowena Ravenclaw's history," he began. "I think I saw it mentioned somewhere here—" he rifled through the pages, "—that she once possessed a diadem."

"Aye, the Lost diadem of Ravenclaw," nodded the warlock. "Everyone knows tha'. The wearer would possess infinite knowledge in every magical subject there is."

"Is there anything else that could have been a relic of hers?" asked Harry, with innocent curiosity.

"No, I am certain that was the only relic of Rowena, if you can even call it tha'. It went missing even before she died."

"Oh," said Harry, his face falling.

The warlock nodded, "A lot o' wizards think they're the ones who're going ta find it, but nobody has ever done it before. I don't reckon it's going ta be you either."

If it was lost during Rowena Ravenclaw's time, he did not know how Voldemort could have found it. But he had somehow tracked down Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket, so Harry wouldn't put it past him to have pulled another miracle.

He glanced back at the book which had a hand drawn picture of Ravenclaw's diadem. It looked vaguely familiar to Harry, even though he had no idea why he felt that.

He finished his soup and thanked the librarian. He knew the Polyjuice would be wearing off soon, so he promised to be back tomorrow.

That night, Harry dreamt that he was travelling. He could feel himself flying, cutting through air without a broomstick with the singular thought in mind: He had to find Gregorovitch…

He woke up, relieved to see himself in the shack again. That had been Voldemort, travelling to find Gregorovitch. Who was Gregorovitch? And why did Harry feel like he knew him from somewhere?

oOo

Monday, September 1

When Kingsley entered Headquarters that evening, the Order was already gathered around the table. It had been the most tiresome two weeks that had left Remus completely drained. Tracking down three hundred odd students was tricky. Trying to convince them to not go back to Hogwarts, even more so.

It took especially great effort to persuade the younger students and their families who were not quite aware of what was happening in their world.

The Order had been divided into teams and assigned students in the roster to ensure as best as they could that they would not be returning to Hogwarts. Now Remus was well aware they had missed some kids due to the sheer lack of time. But he knew a major crisis had been averted when Kingsley announced, "We just had word that Death Eaters stopped the Muggleborns from boarding the train!"

"What?" echoed a lot of voices around the room.

Remus knew something like this was going to happen.

"I am very glad we went through with your plan, Sirius," said Edmund. "Imagine, if the muggleborns had come in without an idea as to what was happening here?"

Sirius' eyebrows were furrowed. "But we left some, didn't we? About twenty or so, were they caught?"

Kingsley sighed, "They've been taken to Azkaban from what I've heard."

Silence followed that statement as everyone stared at each other in shock. Remus could not wrap his head around the idea. Children in Azkaban?

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Doge. "Whatever are we to do?"

"I'm afraid nothing is possible at the moment. Look," said Kingsley, dropping that evening's Prophet on the table for everyone to see. The headlines made Remus' blood run cold.

MINISTER ISSUES DEMENTOR'S KISS-ON-SIGHT ORDER FOR THESE UNDESIRABLES

"WHAT?" exploded the young boys, giving voice to the shock that everyone was feeling.

"Give me that," said Tonks angrily, tugging the newspaper from Fred's hand. "I want to see what justification they've conjured up this time!"

Her mouth dropped into a grimace as her eyes sped past the article and Hermione squeaked, "What does it say?"

"They've blamed us for the Muggleborns not turning up to Hogwarts of course, says we have Imperiused them to raise an army against the Ministry… Oh, this is all just dragon dung! Have they forgotten those were children?"

"Have they named names?" asked Hestia frowning.

"Yes, actually," said Tonks, consulting the paper again. "Sirius, Doge, Remus, myself as well as you two," she said glancing at the twins, who were glowering at the paper.

"Mum is going to have a panic attack if she sees this," murmured George.

Remus glanced at Sirius, who was staring at the paper, deep in thought. He couldn't help but wonder if Sirius felt as numb as he did. But of course, Sirius had been fated for such a sentence for three years when he had been on the run. And he was here now, very much alive.

Surprisingly, that gave Remus hope.

"What do we do now?" spoke up Hestia and almost involuntarily all heads turned to look at Sirius, who was still staring at the newspaper when he said, "We're going to do exactly what they said we would do."

He looked up, his haunting grey eyes sharp and focused as he addressed the room. "We're going to raise an army."

oOo

Harry took the remaining Polyjuice Potion he had saved from yesterday's trip to the Archive and took a few gulps. The librarian had been surprisingly kind and Harry would be saved from making up a new identity if he went as the same boy again.

He Apparated straight to Knockturn Alley this time, having become familiar with its hiding spots by now. He made his way inside the old building, a smile on his face when he saw the old warlock again.

"Hello," he said politely.

"Ah, there yeh are! I was wondering if I'd see you again," said the man, grinning.

"I'm not late, am I?" asked Harry, amused by the zealous welcome.

"Oh, just by a couple of days," said the librarian, laughing.

Harry was puzzled. "But, I was here just yesterday."

"Come now, lad! You visited on Monday. It's Thursday today!"

Harry blinked, utterly taken aback. Just… what?

He could not possibly make out if the man was pulling his leg or telling the truth. Harry hurried to make light of it, lest he get suspicious. "Oh yeah, I was a little busy back home…"

"S'alright, s'alright," the librarian said chuckling. "You can go on and continue if you'd like."

Nodding in thanks, Harry walked along the aisles, picking up a newspaper that had been on one of the long benches for visitors to sit and read quietly. He was shocked to learn that the man had been right. It was Thursday.

How could Harry have missed two days? He knew he visited the Archive just yesterday.

The librarian had to be forgetful. He might have forgotten it was Wednesday that Harry last visited instead of Monday. It was expected in his old age – he looked ancient after all.

He put it out of his mind for now and walked up to the Dark Arts section he had spotted yesterday and looked through them in search of anything that would tell him about Horcruxes.

He searched the shelves for a couple of hours before he finally found a book that mentioned them.

Secrets of the Darkest Art had a whole chapter on how to create Horcruxes that made Harry want to purge his stomach of his lunch.

He skimmed it quickly and stopped when he arrived at the part that would give him information on how to destroy a Horcrux.

'The Horcrux is protected from the elements and magical penetration by the Creator's own brand of magic. Should one choose to terminate a Horcrux, it must be destroyed beyond physical and magical repair for the soul to be truly exorcised from the object. This can be achieved only by magical means which can render a living or non-living body irretrievably inert. Most notable example of such power is the venom of a basilisk, as Herpo the Foul himself used to destroy his own Horcrux…'

"Why would he create that in the first place?" murmured Harry to himself.

'… it is also believed that the flames of the cursed fire…'

Harry frowned, wondering what that could mean, when he was rudely interrupted by a voice.

"It's closing time lad."

Harry looked up, startled. The librarian was looking at him in polite indifference.

"Is it already?" asked Harry, frowning.

"Aye, perhaps yeh ought ta get a pocket watch," chuckled the man.

Harry gave a flat smile and thanking the librarian, he left the building somewhat confused.

The sky had darkened and he was still thinking about his lapse of time when he heard the sound of a girl's screams and the whiplash sounds of Apparition from somewhere up ahead.

He jogged towards the noise in curiosity and there beside Borgin & Burke's were three men manhandling a screaming girl. People were running or Apparating away from the spot and Harry was shocked that nobody was willing to help her.

He raised his wand towards one of the Death Eaters, Stunning him.

Predictably, this alerted the other two Death Eaters who immediately let go of the girl and started throwing spells at him.

"Protego horribilis!" Harry shielded himself and noticed the girl using the opportunity to scramble away. He decided to Apparate away when another hooded man came out of nowhere and caught hold of the girl, who was kicking and screaming for release.

Harry had to get to her before they took her away. He took down his shield charm and putting his reflexes to the test, fired a volley of spells in quick succession catching even the Death Eaters off guard.

Swiftly, he Apparated on the spot and got behind the Death Eaters, but somewhat closer to the girl. Harry couldn't see her face clearly, but her brown hair was very familiar. He ran towards her, aware of the two Death Eaters behind him and the one in front. He leaped, grabbing the girl's hand in one fluid motion and dragging her away from the man. He could see the three Death Eaters raising their wands yelling, "Avada Kedavra!"

In a state of shock, but also of desperation, Harry put the girl behind him and waved his wand, yelling, "Ferrifors!"

For a second, Harry thought he had made the biggest mistake of choosing to use that spell at that moment and he was sure the green rushing towards him was going to be the end.

But Harry was astounded himself when iron materialized out of thin air, circular and strong, floating without a harness.

Harry's elation at finally getting the spell right after a year of practice was extinguished when the deafening sound of metal exploding preceded a huge blow that slammed him to the ground. His head knocked to the floor and made him see stars.

Distantly, he heard the girl scream and a burning pain tore at his leg. He couldn't move let alone get up, the pain unbearable and clawing at his sides. His head was pounding and his vision went hazy. He knew he was going to pass out in a moment. He heard the muffled footfalls of someone and a gentle voice was calling to him as if from above water, slapping the side of his face.

"Wake up! Wake up! We should get out of here!"

He wasn't going anywhere; he couldn't move his left leg and even the slight movement of his heaving breaths, stung. But through the agony, he realized what he had to do and immediately called for Twitchet.

There was a crack and a scream followed by a thud.

"Get – us – back!" rasped Harry, even though he couldn't see her.

The last thing he heard was Twitchet's worried voice, "Master Harry! Master Harry!" before he passed out when he couldn't stand the pain of Apparition.

oOo

A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews and love ^ ^! Your comments are exactly what spurred me into getting back to writing again!