Chapter 2

The pale walls of St Mungos housed a variety of patients - from the boy who had sneezed off his nose, to the bird who thought it was a witch and was writing its third book - who were cared for by talented mediwizards. The healers, as they were informally called, rushed in and out of the emergency rooms quickly giving the potion requirements to the nurses, who in turn were running to and fro between the emergency ward and the potion department, where they hurriedly took the potion bottles from the shelves which were being refilled by potion masters sitting in a connected lab, doing their best to keep up with the demand. Just another day for the only hospital in Magical Britain.

It was to this scene Sirius entered the hospital, and quickly made his way to the reception. Before he could even speak, the witch sitting at the desk briskly asked, "Do you need emergency services?"

"No-"

"Do you suspect you're under the influence of any mind magics?"

"No, if you wou-"

"What is the nature of your visit?"

Sirius gritted his teeth. "I need to visit the Longbottom couple."

"Third floor, ward of permanent memory damage."

Sirius didn't waste time, ran up the stairs and barged inside the ward. He startled a nurse who dropped his potion bottle, but Sirius didn't care.

"Frank! Alice!" he cried. Looking around wildly, he finally spotted them at the far end of the room. As he neared their bed he was stopped by a couple of Aurors standing guard over them.

"Don't even try, Black." one of them said, the other opted to stare at him silently.

"I am their friend."

"You are a Black. Probably here to finish the job."

His blood boiled.

"How...How dare you..."

"How dare we?" the first Auror continued talking, "How dare you? How dare you come here, when your very cousin did this?" she pointed at the wizard and witch sitting on their beds and mindlessly staring ahead. "If I had one shred of evidence... any small clue... you would never again spend a day outside Azkaban."

"Let us not make accusations without any proof, Auror Harris. Good evening Auror Wilson. If you could make way for an elderly wizard?"

Sirius turned around to see Dumbledore looking at the Aurors. The now named Auror Harris quickly calmed herself and the two stepped aside to give him passage. He gestured Sirius to go before him.

Harris started objecting, to which Dumbledore held up his arm. "The Longbottoms are under no danger from him."

When she didn't look like she was backing down, Dumbledore sighed. "I am ordering you by my authority as the Chief Warlock to grant Sirius the company of his ill friends."

She finally backed down, but sent a glare at Sirius that clearly would've killed him if it could have.

Sirius chose to ignore her, instead he quickly slipped into Frank's bed and held his hand.

"Frank? Can you hear me? Alice?"

Only silence greeted him.

"How great is their chance of recovery?"

"I am by no means an expert in the field of mind magic, but I am unaware of any remedy for this condition."

Silent tears flowed on Sirius' cheeks. "None?"

Dumbledore just nodded.

Sirius took his time, saying goodbye to both of them, knowing very well they may not even remember who he was.

"What happened to them? Was that bitch Bellatrix involved?" he asked Dumbledore when they were outside the busy hospital.

"Indeed. Miss Black was the leader of the four Death Eaters who attacked Mr and Mrs Longbottom."

They were silent for a few minutes.

"Why did you help me?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"In the courtroom, and here again, why did you help me?"

"I have my reasons."

Sirius turned away from him. "Really? You still insist on keeping secrets?"

"It is no secret that I was a friend of James."

"And yet, I am a Black. Whose cousin was found cruciating two Aururs as their baby cried. Why do you believe me?"

Dumbledore cleaned his glasses with the hem of his robes. Both of them knew this gesture was for buying more time.

"When a young Severus was sitting in my office, in his sixth year, still smarting the scars he had recieved from the dreadful encounter with Remus three nights ago, I was afraid I had misjudged you." He put on his glasses and looked at Sirius. "I regretted thinking that, when I heard how James had recieved an anonymous tip about Severus trying to enter the Shrieking Shack. And when later that year Severus had recieved many rare potion equipments anonymously, which he had assumed were a gift from his housemates.

"You are good at heart, Sirius Black. Perhaps even more so than me, because I wasn't raised by Walburga. Does that answer your question?"

It was Sirius' time to think.

"Not really, no," he said. "But I am willing to accept these platitudes in favour of solid answers in future."

A smile tugged at Dumbledore's lips. "Indeed."

Both men nodded, and then apparated away.

The Longbottom Hall wasn't large in the traditional sense. A farming field, a two-storey mansion, a lake just outside the walls, it wasn't anything too big or extravagant. But when Lord Longbottom walked through the empty hallways of his home, it felt too big, too empty. Jingle, the house-elf, was taking care of his now orphaned grandson.

Geller lamented the bravery and stupidity of his son. He had always pleaded Frank to leave Dumbledore's group, he had a family to care for now, but he had refused to listen everytime. The tensions had grown so thick that when one day he saw two plates missing on the breakfast table, he had chosen to ignore it entirely. That had resulted in no contact with them for half a year. The war had been going as strong as ever, and every other day he would read news of tussles between the death eaters and Dumbledore's group, and he would pray silently for the safety of his foolish son.

Every letter he opened with trembling hands.

He wasn't thrilled that he had been proven right, not when his son sat in a bed all day, seeing everything and nothing all at once. Only once he had visited Frank and Alice, and that too had been from far away. He couldn't bear to go closer, to not see his son go rigid and sit straighter as he patted his back.

He hadn't even talked to his wife since the day his son was attacked. In fact, he couldn't remember when he had last spoken at all. There was just nothing left for him to say anymore.

But he knew that things would have to change. Neville was his grandson, and he would make him better than he or Frank had ever been. But for that he would have to move on.

He had never placed any trust in miracles, and he never would. No one had ever returned to normal after that severe a case of Cruciatus, and he didn't expect Frank to ever be himself again. That didn't mean he would shirk from the responsibility of Neville. No. He would make him so Frank would be proud of his son, if he were to ever wake up again.

The thoughts occupied him as he travelled the long distance of a staircase and a hallway to the visitor room. As he reached the door, he assumed the face of a sad father and roughed his robes to show how very quickly he had arrived.

He entered the room, to see Sirius Black sitting on one of his elite sofas, reading Dueling Daily as the tea lay forgotten on the table. So emgrossed was he, that Geller had to cough to bring attention on him.

"Lord Black."

"Lord Longbottom."

They shook hands and sat on the opposite sides of the table.

"So... You asked for a meeting. You have it. How can I help you?"

Sirius sipped his cold tea.

"I... have a proposition."

Geller stayed silent, letting Sirius say his piece.

"If you're unaware, I have the custody of Harry Potter, son of James Potter."

Ah yes, the Potter boy. The miracle child who had destroyed You-Know-Who. Geller believed the whole thing was a carraige full of centaur-shit, of course, as did everyone who had an ounce of logic in their brain. None of his opinions showed on his face, which was a mix of sadness and confusion, mixed with a tinge of curiosity.

"I think that Harry should have Neville as his friend. Let them grow up as brothers, as their parents intended."

That... was interesting indeed. A friendship with the Potter boy would guarantee a measure of danger for life, because even though the story was fake, death eaters still believed it.

On the other hand, Potter boy would inevitably have a lot of political influence when he would grow up. His word would a lot of weight in the world, and Gellert wanted his grandson to be right there, leading the politics of Wizengamot in the coming years.

Not to even mention that this was a favour the Black family would owe him in future.

Decisions... decisions...

Sirius kept sipping his tea, letting him have as much time as he wanted to think through it.

"Let them play together on the weekends," he said finally. "We will see what comes off it."

Sirius nodded.

He declined the obligatory comment to stay for supper, and soon he was back in his office, writing his journal and planning the future.

AN: So... Here's the chapter. Been a long time since I uploaded this. I kinda stopped writing the stories and tried my hand at oneshots. Do check them out at some point.

Lectio Beatus!