"Two bodies, both male, middle-aged. Broken bones, probably because of the Cruciatus. Followed by a Killing Curse." The scribe scribbled all this down rapidly as Regulus rattled off his observations.

Last night, Borgin and Burke were murdered in their own shop.

The place was thrashed. The two counters were upturned, drawers and shelves had been ransacked, the glass doors of the cabinets and the entrance were shattered.

It was a mess.

The shop's assistant, Eric Runcorn was talking to the Aurors. He was about seventeen and the boy was thoroughly frightened of being next in line.

"I don't know what happened, sirs." He kept saying that line every two minutes. "I asked Mr. Burke for the evening off and he agreed but said that I had to be early the next day. This morning, I showed up and this is how they were."

"Well, judging by the state of the place, I'm guessing the attacker was searching for something."

"She didn't find it."

"She?" Regulus looked at him questioningly. "You think this was Bellatrix?"

"It's quite obvious, really. Borgin and Burke are– were the dealers of Dark objects. No one would come in here unless they meant business. Hell, even the other shopkeepers seem to hate the shop."

"It could have been someone who had a bone to pick with the blokes. They weren't the most respectable lot, were they?"

"True. But look at the bodies. Closely. Recognize the spell work? The Cruciatus Curse was used meticulously. Now, there's only one person I know to possess this particularly vile skill. The other one is dead. This was Bella, Regulus."

Sirius' points were correct. Both victims had been tortured almost systematically before being put out of their misery.

This was undoubtedly the work of their deranged cousin.

"She was looking for the locket, wasn't she?"

"Minister, are you certain that this is wise? The last time you voiced this idea to Auror Black, he... disapproved." An advisor nervously fiddled with his tie, recalling exactly what had happened the last time.

Fudge scoffed pompously and reached for another biscuit. "The situation has changed now, Wilden. We have a killer on the loose. The sooner she's arrested, the better. We need to take action now before she lets loose. I suppose you're too young to remember the kind of terror Lestrange had caused in the past."

"But what about Auror Black?"

Fudge squirmed in his seat, suddenly uneasy. When Black found out, he would be livid, there was no doubt about that. But, as Minister for Magic, it was his duty to act. Besides, with the elections so close, he couldn't afford to lose any influence.

"We'll deal with him later. Right now, put this into motion." While some of the advisors approved of the plan, other more sensible ones were against it.

Sending dementors to Hogwarts especially after Black had expressed his disagreement very clearly was a suicide mission. The minister was too thick skilled and pig headed to see that. As Black had mentioned, Fudge didn't know what it was like to be trapped between dementors. None of them did.

Now, the minister had authorised sending dementors to Hogwarts. There was a great risk that children could be hurt. Didn't he understand that?

But, he was the minister after all, if only for a few more months. They still had to listen to him. Even if they hated him.

The school was buzzing with excitement. It was almost tangible. All the students were waiting for the first Quidditch match of the year:

Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

Both the teams had been training hard and their captains were equally determined to win this game.

On the afternoon before the match, the Great Hall was filled with chatter and anticipation. Harry was looking forward to this match. It had been a while since he'd played a good, proper game of Quidditch. The match would take place after lunch.

He looked over to the Slytherin table and spotted Draco who smirked at him and Harry got the message.

Game on, Potter.

This year was different.

Draco wasn't his enemy, just his rival.

He was waiting for Sirius and Regulus to arrive. They'd promised to be there and Harry only hoped that Bellatrix Lestrange's escape hadn't changed that.

His worries were completely unfounded. His spirits instantly lifted when he saw the two men walk into the Great Hall. He was guessing that they'd used Remus' floo system.

He waved out to Sirius eagerly, choosing to ignore the thought that he probably looked like a hyperactive five year old. The man found him and waved back, beaming.

Regulus gave Harry his trademark warm smile and a two fingered salute before moving toward the Slytherin table. He was wearing a Slytherin scarf around his neck, over his dark robes.

A lot of the students were elated to see their favourite DADA professor once more, especially a few Seventh year girls. All that Auror work and training in the past few months had given Sirius a rather muscular build and they were openly staring.

Sirius appeared rather uncomfortable from all the attention he was receiving from girls half his age. But, he managed to get past all of them as quickly as possible without showing any blatant uneasiness.

When Sirius finally got to Harry, he ruffled the boy's hair. "I just set it, Dad!"

"Looks the same to me, pup."

The weather was cloudy that day with hardly any light and it wasn't even four o' clock. Harry only hoped that the climate wouldn't affect their match.

He wanted nothing more than a nice, clean game.

As usual, things did not go Harry's way. The weather had gotten worse. It was raining now, but Harry was still playing Quidditch.

Both teams had agreed to play, despite the weather. They had trained hard and long for this. They weren't going to let the weather slow them down.

Currently, he was on his broom, trying to spot the snitch and keep an eye on Draco through his foggy glasses.

Not one of the easiest tasks in existence.

He was well above the other players with Draco only a little away. The crowd was cheering, nearly roaring with excitement.

Gryffindor was currently leading with 60-30.

The snitch was nowhere in sight and the rain wasn't getting any better. The weather had suddenly taken a turn for the worse and it's timing couldn't have been more wrong.

In that downpour, Harry's eyes caught a flutter of gold and he saw that pesky little ball.

The golden snitch was hovering above him, dancing in the storm.

He chased after it before it had the chance to disappear once again. The little ball danced around him, taunting him. Every time he reached out, it whizzed away.

Apparently, Harry wasn't the only one who'd spotted the snitch. Draco was right next to Harry, trying to catch that ball which would decide the outcome of this whole event.

The two boys dived, rose up and turned, fiercely in pursuit of the snitch. They knew nothing of the match that was going on below them. All the other players, the roaring of the crowd was tuned out. Two pairs of eyes: one grey and the other green, were fixated on the small golden ball.

They were getting closer. As the boys flew higher, the air around them got colder. The rain seemed to have decreased slightly but the temperature seemed to have dropped considerably.

Being the better flier, Harry was ahead of Draco, his right arm outstretched, ready to capture the snitch.

A strong gust of wind pushed Draco's broom downward by several feet, leaving Harry alone.

The snitch was now nearly in his reach. He was almost there. Another ten seconds and Gryffindor would have won the game.

Just a little more, Potter. Come on.

And then they came.

Harry's fingers had almost closed around the snitch when the ball sharply dived. Then, two huge robed and hooded figures blocked his path.

The worst part? Harry recognised them. He felt colder by the second.

Dementors.

As they drew closer, he could hear whispers emanating from their forms.

One of the hooded figures loomed over Harry and that's when he heard her.

"Not Harry! Please, I'm begging you! Take me instead, I'll do anything!"

He heard Lily Potter begging Voldemort to spare his life. The dementors closed over him completely.

His face was freezing and he felt like someone had clawed into his heart.

His hands began to loosen and his grip on the Nimbus slackened. His head was throbbing uncontrollably and his scar was on fire.

He let go of his broom.

He didn't hear the roaring of the students turn to screams, or the abrupt cheering from one part of the spectators.

The last thing he felt before losing consciousness was that he was hurtling downward at a thousand miles an hour.

He was going to die.

Sirius watched Harry fall and terror—pure and raw—seized his heart.

Those two huge hooded figures chasing after his boy only accelerated his fear.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

A myriad of emotions ran through his body: fear, rage, panic, fury and Merlin knew what else. In that storm raging inside him, he managed to summon some semblance of lucidity and calm.

"ARRESTO MOMENTUM!"

He thrust his hand forward and softened Harry's fall.

He was already out of his seat and shoving past the people in his path when a jet of silvery light shot out from his palm and charged straight towards the dementors.

The silvery mist split into two, each taking on the form of the grim, only much larger than the actual one. The two dogs attacked the dementors, entrapping them in their silver aura.

Several students and professors alike we're trying to get to Harry while some were curious to see what was going on.

"Out of my way!"

Everyone literally cowered away from Sirius, giving him a wide berth.

He got past the sea of people and sank to his knees next to the figure lying on the ground.

"Harry? Pup?" Sirius placed his hand under Harry's neck, gently lifting the boy's head up with one hand and patting his pale cheek with the other.

No response.

He pressed two fingers against Harry's throat and was relieved to find a steady pulse.

"Sirius?" Regulus' voice cut through the rain. "You need to get him to the Hospital Wing. Now."

Right. His brother was correct. He had to take Harry to Pomfrey.

Ignoring the rain that was relentlessly pouring down on everyone and the curious stares of the people who'd gathered around, Sirius lifted Harry up into his arms and stood.

By now, all chatter and whispers had stopped. No one said a word. The heavy pattering of the rain was the only sound in the entire pitch.

Sirius reached the Hospital Wing in record time, Remus and Regulus right behind him. He set Harry down on a bed, drying him with a wave of his hand.

The mediwitch appeared out of nowhere, much like the way she always did. "Oh dear, what happened to the poor lad?" She swept her wand over Harry's form, already checking for internal injuries and other possible damage.

"He fell off his broom. Dementors." Remus was the one who spoke.

She looked up from her inspection, shocked. "Dementors? Here at Hogwarts? Sweet Merlin, that's terrible! You poor child!"

"He'll be okay right?" Sirius tried to make his voice sound even but it came out all shaky.

"Of course, Mr. Black. Give it an hour and he'll wake up, brand new. The Dementors didn't cause any lasting damage."

"I'll go and tell Dumbledore." Remus hurried out Wing.

Sirius let out a relieved breath and sank into the chair by Harry's bed. He felt Regulus's hand on his shoulder. "He'll be alright, mate. You heard Poppy."

"Fudge."

"I'm sorry?"

"Cornelius-arsehole-Fudge! The Dementors were his doing." Sirius sounded strangely calm, now that he knew Harry wasn't in danger anymore.

In that calm, there was a ball of white hot fury in him which was growing larger every second. "I had explicitly told that fat old man that there would be no Dementors allowed anywhere near Hogwarts. The slimy bastard did it anyway!"

He'd deal with Fudge. Oh he would.

Harry's eyes opened a while later and he was greeted by Sirius, Regulus, Remus, Ron and Hermione.

"Hi."

"And so he wakes." To anyone else, Sirius would have sounded nonchalant. But Harry sensed the underlying tightness in his voice.

He wasn't able to say anything since Pomfrey came in at that moment. "Out! First Mr. Wood and the rest of the team and now you lot. All of you out now. Do not overwhelm my patient." Everyone shuffled out, except Sirius. The witch knew better than to try telling him anything since he wouldn't budge.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm fine, I suppose. A bit tired but alright." The witch nodded, apparently satisfied with Harry's answer.

"Very well. In that case, I'll leave you with Mr. Black. No more visitors will be allowed until tomorrow morning. We wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself. After all, you can't afford to skip lessons. Rest now."

Harry knew better than to argue with Pomfrey. "Yes, ma'am."

Once she was gone, Harry turned to Sirius. "What exactly happened out there? The last thing I remember is those Dementors surrounding me."

Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "You fell. You lost consciousness during your fall but the impact was slowed down. So, you weren't hurt. That doesn't mean you didn't scare the hell out of us all."

Harry winced. "Scared the hell out of myself too."

"What really happened, pup?"

Harry knew that he would have to eventually tell the man about everything that had occurred.

"It was bad. I was reaching for the snitch and the next thing I know is these two huge, hooded monsters have trapped me. I heard screaming and it was all very angst-y in there, Dad. My scar began to burn like crazy. I heard... I heard Mum. She was begging Voldemort to spare me. Then I fell."

Harry's voice broke towards the end and he looked away.

Sirius carded one hand through Harry's hair. "It's alright, kiddo. You're okay."

"I know. What happened to the match, Dad?" Harry didn't recollect anything about the game ending.

"Slytherin won, pup. Draco caught the snitch before you could hit the ground. Your captain tried to ask for a rematch but Hooch said it was a fair game. Slytherin won fair and square."

Harry slumped further against the pillows, feeling terribly childish but not caring. "Draco's not going to let me forget this, is he?"

Sirius laughed, hearing the grumpy words. Slouching in his bed, pouting, Harry was the picture of a typical teenager. "I guess not, pup."

This day couldn't get any worse.

Suddenly, another thought struck Harry. "Where's my broom? The wind must have blown it away when I fell." His Nimbus was nowhere in sight. Just his Quidditch robes that had been shabbily bundled up.

He immediately knew something wasn't right when his father's face fell. "What's wrong, Dad?"

"Ron and Hermione, they... they found this by the Whomping Willow." Sirius reached over and grabbed the bundle of robes that were currently on the nightstand.

"Your broom, it sort of... um, crashed into the Whomping Willow when you fell. I tried fixing it but the magic itself was destroyed during the fall."

He unwrapped the bundle and what Harry saw, made his heart shatter into a billion pieces.

There lay his precious broom: nothing more than mere splinters and broken bits. His broom, the very first thing he could remember owning, other than textbooks and robes. It was the first time he'd felt so proud of something. He'd won his first game with it. After so many years, something had been his, truly his, not passed on or worn out. Now, it was gone.

He was angry, frustrated and heartbroken. He felt that bloody annoying burning behind his eyes and the first tear fell, then another and before he knew it, he was full on crying. Bawling like a sodding baby.

Sirius pulled him into a hug and Harry wasted no time in clinging to the man like his life depended on it. It all hit him at once: the pain, anger, sadness.

"Why?"

That one word contained all his angst. Why him? Why did it always have to be him? He'd heard his mother before she died, then monsters had tried to suck his soul out, after that he'd nearly fallen to his death in front of the whole school and his splintered broom really was the cherry on top.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. You don't deserve this, any of it." Sirius hugged his boy consolingly and lightly kissed his forehead. "You deserve better."

There was only one person to blame for Harry's current predicament.

The secretary sat at her desk, writing away. She hated her job. Being the personal secretary to the Minister for Magic wasn't as glamorous as most people thought. At least presently. Cornelius Fudge was a fat, condescending, misogynistic, self centered arse. The other secretary, Umbridge was an equal pain.

The scribbling of her quill was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming right this way and stopping before her desk.

She looked up from her work and at the man in front of her. She recognised him instantly:

Sirius Black.

He smiled at her, revealing perfect white teeth. His smile wasn't warm or friendly. It was more akin to the way a hunter smiled before ending his prey: predatory and terrifying.

"I'd like to see the Minister please."

Uh oh.

Hope you enjoyed this one. Really sorry about the long wait. I know some of you are pretty mad about that. Again, really sorry.

I have news for you, readers. I'm working on a new fanfic right now. 'Serendipitous'. The prologue is out. Check it out.