Please Note: This is the PROLOGUE for Hidden Shadows, which is the sequel to Hunting Shadows. I WILL BE POSTING THIS AS A SEPARATE STORY, which you can find here all (remove all spaces): www. fanfiction s/13967675/1/Hidden-Shadows

Justice. Revenge.

Two little words that had knocked around in Sirius's brain for so long they had been etched into his mind. They had guided his every move, his every thought, his every dream, his every...everything.

Justice for Lily and James, who had died at Peter's hands, and justice for Harry, who had been left behind and locked in a broom closet under the stairs.

Revenge to put the past to bed.

Justice to make way for the future.

Revenge for him, who had been locked away without a word or trial and left to rot.

And yet, somehow, despite all this, Sirius had lost sight of everything, too caught in his scheming and plotting and planning of the details to realise the pieces no longer made an entire picture. His mind had schemed and dreamed and whispered for Peter's death and to get proof of Sirius' own innocence even as he had sought ever more convoluted ways to track Peter down.

A fake identity and attendance at a party became a dark curse or two, which lead to a few drinks with Avery and Mulciber, then a few little lies (I can give you his best friend, Hermione Granger), which all led to some more cursing and then some hexing and even some fun with a beautiful woman (married, true, but a small detail easily disregarded).

But when had the whispers in his head for justice and revenge drowned out the voice of reason? When had it become enjoyable to hex and curse unsuspecting muggles with Avery and Mulciber? When had he stopped thinking of Hermione as someone to protect and instead thought of her as an obstacle that he would have to chivvy out of the way?

When had he become one of the monsters that he hunted?

It had been so easy to weigh the calculus of her life in his plans at the end, when he had been taken by surprise. She shouldn't have been at the ritual circle, which he hadn't even known existed. All he had wanted to do was kill Mulciber and Avery, who knew too much about the things he had done over the summer to live, and so he used a location spell on Avery and went to him. And yet there she was, tied down to the altar and ready for sacrifice.

"Is this what you meant by tidying up loose ends?" she had asked him, betrayal in her eyes.

No. No, it had not. And yet, instead of taking her away from it all, his mind had run through a thousand scenarios and come up with a plan that let him kill Mulciber and dispose of Avery while keeping Hermione — sweet, innocent Hermione — alive.

All he had to do was torture her.

It had been easy to do it, too. He'd had practice all summer, after all, as evidenced by Mulciber's dismissive, "Just Crucio the girl and get over it." So he had lifted his second wand and cursed her, the softer part of his mind gibbering apologies and self recriminations and sputtering in horror even as the rest of him moved on like a puppet on a string.

Curse Hermione, get into the circle, kill Avery, kill Mulciber, take Hermione home, heal Hermione, leave to establish alibi.

Done, done, done. All except Avery, who had somehow activated a secret portkey he'd had hung around his neck, though Sirius thought the man likely died en route to wherever he'd gone. His injuries had been...severe.

All said and done, he'd managed to interrupt the ritual and prevent the Dark Lord's untimely return, though the circle had thrummed with strength and magic upon Mulciber's death. Death magic, after all, was the strongest kind of magic there was. Too bad Mulciber wouldn't be alive to use a fully powered ritual circle.

Sirius hadn't really had a chance to process the entire sequence of events until he'd been bathing blood from Hermione's limp body as she lay motionless before him, and then it had hit him all at once so hard that he'd gone and retched up lunch and what felt like half his stomach itself.

He'd tortured Hermione. He'd tortured her, casually and easily, and some part of him — the part that had liked all the Dark things he had done over the summer — had liked it.

Neither justice nor revenge had played into that day at Morana's Altar. No, everything that had happened there had been because he'd gotten distracted from those very principles, instead immersing himself in the dark and deviant persona that Magellan Quickfoot had become. If he had done things differently, he wouldn't have had to cover his tracks. If he hadn't dangled Hermione like bait so much earlier in the summer, she wouldn't have been involved.

All the mistakes, all the pain and suffering Hermione had endured at his hands...all of it was because of him.

But he was going to be different, now. He wasn't going to be the person the summer had tried to mould him into. He would be a good man. A decent man. A man that Lily and James would be happy to let raise their son.

"Mister Black?" a lanky, tall boy with russet skin and curious eyes said as he walked across the stylized ICW carved on the floor in white marble, the words ATREUM AUTEUM curving underneath it the logo. "They'll see you now."

Sirius inhaled sharply, his hand curving around the memory phials in his pocket. Twelve years and one summer had led to this moment. Freedom lay before him, if he was canny enough to navigate the twisted path ahead.

Lead the way, Akabe," Sirius told the boy. "I promise, I'll be right behind you."

Once again: I WILL BE POSTING THIS AS A SEPARATE STORY, which you can find here (remove all spaces): www. fanfiction s/13967675/1/Hidden-Shadows