Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. I do not own Harry Potter, any characters, or any of its affiliates. No infringement on it or any of its affiliates is intended… blinks at angry mob What? If you were expecting something funny, too bad. I guess that I just don't have anything funny to work with today. disregards sharpened pitchforks, but doesn't like the looks of the scary rabid wolfhounds about to be unleashed Here's your chapter…laughs nervously…see ya! insert sounds of angry mob, and the ever so clichéd smoke of someone who just ran away very quickly

Chapter Five

Alive?

Two ½ years later

"How unfair can it get?" Remus asked, rechecking the lunar chart. "It's a full moon on Christmas Eve."

"Are you serious?" Sirius asked, dismayed.

"Dead. Maybe you could go to the party that Ron and Hermione are throwing," Remus suggested helpfully. "Almost the whole Order is going."

"Maybe," Sirius said doubtfully. Remus was really the only person that Sirius did things with anymore. If Remus went to the party, Sirius would gladly tag along, but Sirius had no intention of subjecting himself to Harry's old friends and their families while he was alone. It wasn't that he didn't care deeply about all of them. It was just that he always felt like they still pitied him, even almost three years after Sirius had discovered Harry's death. Sirius had gotten over Harry. There were, of course, times when he missed Harry terribly, but he had accepted that Harry was dead but that he would see him again some day, thanks in part to Luna Lovegood. Sirius had his pride, and he could not stand everyone being so careful around him. Everyone except for Remus, Dumbledore, Moody, and occasionally Shacklebolt seemed to think that he was fragile material that would shatter after the smallest knock.

"Actually, Moony, I haven't been Padfoot for a long time. Maybe I'll go play around as a lovable stray," Sirius invented quickly when Remus gave him a sideways glance.

"Sirius, you need to get over it," Remus said bluntly after a sigh. "In a few days, Harry's been dead for seven years. Accept it, man, and move on with your life."

"Now Moony, I thought you had me figured out. I have moved on. Harry's gone, but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy what's left of my life. It's just that nobody thinks that I can handle hearing Harry's name. You now how delicate I am, Remus," Sirius said sarcastically. "Liable to break at any moment, I am," he finished with a decisive nod and a mock grin.

Remus grinned devilishly in reply. "Mr. Moony would agree with Mr. Padfoot in his observation of Sirius Black."

"Mr. Padfoot wishes to make it clear to the dull-witted snob Mr. Moony that Mr. Padfoot was using sarcasm in his statement of Sirius Black."

"Mr. Moony would like to congratulate Mr. Padfoot on his great accomplishment, seeing as how Mr. Padfoot's blonde shows more often than not."

"Mr. Padfoot wishes to inquire as to Mr. Moony's color sense."

"Mr. Moony howls at every full moon," Remus stated pointedly.

"Mr. Padfoot wishes to ask the relevance of this point," Sirius said, puzzled.

"So do you."

"Ah, point taken." Sirius sat for a while staring off into space, oblivious to Remus watching him intently.

"You were born blonde, weren't you?" he asked finally.

"What! No. Why?"

"You won. I broke it off."

"I won?" Sirius asked incredulously.

Remus sighed and shaking his head, said, "Alas, the poor man's victory."

"I won!"

Christmas Eve

"You know Harry, you are much stronger than I had ever anticipated," Voldemort informed Harry in a conversational tone while Harry moaned on the ground. He had just had a three-hour session with a forked whip. Harry didn't even want to think about his cutting back. "You have resisted every torture method I ever conjured up. From the beating you just now received to electrocution, you have withstood it all. But Harry, I do not wish to waste any more time. In fact, I'm rather surprised that I put up with you for this long." He bent down and grasped Harry's chin in his bony clasp, bringing Harry's bitter green eyes up to level with his own bloody red. "Tell me the contents of the prophecy or it is your friends who will suffer. I'll give you until morning tomorrow to think about it." And with that he released Harry's chin and, with eyes full of malevolence, gave him a sharp, friendly pat on the back. Harry collapsed and cried out in pain, dry sobs emerging from him.

He looked up and saw Voldemort mumbling instructions to a sentry and then he left. The broad man came over and roughly picked Harry up off the ground and then cuffed heavy manacles attached to a series of chain links that rose up to the ceiling over Harry's thin, scarred wrists. When he released him, he recited a spell and Harry rose to his full height with his arms stretched above him as far as they could go and his feet scrabbling to touch the floor. The Death Eater chortled spitefully and left Harry where he was.

Harry tugged at the chain, testing its resilience under stress. He peered up toward the dark ceiling, attempting to pinpoint where the trail led to, but he could not see a thing in the utter blackness. He yanked vigorously on the chain, hoping to work loose the weak link. But even as his strength ebbed away from his wasted muscles and body, some magical sense told him every link had been reinforced. And then he blacked out.

He didn't know how long he had dangled from the chain, but he suddenly jerked awake when the large entrance door closed with a faint boom that resounded and echoed in the dome. Is it morning already? Harry asked himself, dismayed, as he clenched his drained fists, trying to restore circulation. Voldemort wants to know what the prophecy says. But I can't tell him! But I can't save myself and sacrifice everyone else either! I could make it up. No, he knows when you're telling him a direct lie. He heard the echoing footsteps coming closer and raked his brain for possible ways out. Even when he had nearly convinced himself that there were none, he saw the pudgy form expose itself out of the gloom. It was Peter Pettigrew.

Hatred and resentment welled up inside Harry's being. "Huh, didn't know you were here. How long did Voldemort say I'd been here? Seven years? In seven years time, this is the first that you've revealed yourself to me. Scared of your old pal's son, eh? Do I look too much like him for your comfort, little Peter?" Harry taunted.

"I take no pride in what I did," Pettigrew whispered as he walked up to Harry. "But be quiet, boy, or you'll draw attention."

"Why should you care?" Harry sneered. The man didn't reply, but muttered a quiet incantation, swishing his wand. The chain began to lower and blood rushed into Harry's arms and his feet made contact. Bewildered, he watched as Pettigrew released the manacles.

"I know this doesn't make up for what I did to you, Harry. But you spared me from Sirius and Remus in their anger, though I deserve everything they would have done to me. Go out the front entrance and proceed for twenty-three doors on your right. There's a hallway. Go down to the very end and turn left. About halfway down there is an exit on your right. I'll give you five minutes before I wake the guard." Pettigrew relayed the instructions to a shocked Harry as he led him to the door. They both stepped out to find the broad guard out cold.

Harry turned to the balding man and bid his thanks, though not without suspicion. As he raced down the corridor he thought he heard the man say in a low tone, "Forgive me, Harry."

He faced his right, counting every door he passed until he reached twenty-three, then followed the narrow hallway down to the end and turned right. Sure enough, there was the simple gray door. He reached it, turned the knob, and flung himself against it. It was locked.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, and once again threw his weight against the barrier between him and freedom. "NO!" Still, it did not budge.

"Oh, no … um… Alohomora," Harry said desperately. Even as he said it, he knew it'd be useless because he didn't have a wand. And then to his amazement the door clicked and opened. Not pausing to marvel at what had just happened, Harry bolted out the door and flung it shut behind him. The freezing cold hit him like a hammer. There was probably at least a good foot of snow already and more was billowing softly down. Harry also had the unluckiness to have only ragged jeans covering his thin body because of his torture the night before. He trudged along as fast as he could, leaving a trail of lone, blatant tracks in his wake.

He hugged himself, shivering, but going as fast as he could. After only a couple minutes of traveling, behind him he heard something that sounded like a distinct explosion. Voldemort knew he was gone. Harry would have normally delighted in the fact that he had made his archenemy so incensed, but this time, it drove him to a faster pace. If he were found here, so close to his place of captivity, he was done for.

Several minutes later they discovered him.

After Remus had drank his vile concoction that made his transformations more bearable for him and everyone else and had curled up in his room as a very large wolf, Sirius made his way, as Padfoot, out the door. There was already a large quantity of snow on the ground and more was headed that way. He lapped the snowflakes from the air with his long pink tongue and bounded through the masses of flurries like a fawn in springtime.

After he had thoroughly enjoyed himself in the front yard, Sirius began to trot through the streets like a flashy pony, going nowhere in particular and delighting in the brisk cold of the season.

He was almost ready to turn around and explore in another direction when his keen nose picked up a faint, but distinctly different and disturbing smell. He followed the source of the odor for a ways, just to be sure. Then a cold wind blew his way and there was no mistaking it. Blood. And it wasn't just any type of blood. It was human blood. Was there somebody hurt? He wanted to enjoy himself, but it was against his character and his morals to do anything less than investigate.

Nose to the air, he followed the divergent tang permeating the area. He came to a sparse grove and continued his search inside. Then he heard voices.

"Thought you could get away, did you, boy?"

"Didn't like our company, I suppose."

"Th' Dark Lord requesths that you sthay wif' him a bit longa."

Sirius's ears perked up at this last comment of the third voice, and a rumbling growl started deep in his throat and he began to advance more stealthily.

"Whadaya reckon we do with him now, fellas?" a new voice asked.

"We obviously need to convince him to come back with us," said another newcomer.

"So gentlemen, what spell do you propose we accomplish that with? Rictosempra, or Crucio?" asked the second voice.

There was a general mumble of ascent at the first suggestion and Sirius entered the clearing just in time to see five wizards fire the same potent spell on their victim, who soared a few yards and collapsed in a dead drop.

Sirius changed back immediately and voiced an incantation. Just as it had been in the graveyard, Sirius had never heard the spell before. But it flew from his wand, buzzing and spitting white sparks and drove each man off his feet and unconscious. Sirius proceeded forward to check who had been the target for their attack. Probably some runaway Death Eater who finally realized what Voldemort really is, Sirius thought bitterly. But he couldn't help voicing his surprise when he saw that it was a very, very skinny man in nothing but old, ragged jeans. He could see each of the man's ribs with stark clarity and his skin seemed stretched over every one of his bones. He thought the hair was black but he could not be sure after to roll the boy had taken through the snow. His back seemed nothing but a mass of old and new scars and one to two foot long bloody slashes overlapping each other. He walked up and turned the man over so that Sirius could see his face. He choked a shocked, horrified exclamation. Even though the face was dreadfully gaunt and the lips were a deep blue, there could be no mistaking his identity. It was Harry.

Sirius didn't know what to do. His back and the wounds the combined spells had opened and created were freely bleeding and the snow surrounding him was already stained. He called out Harry's name and shook him gently, trying to revive him, but to no avail. Then the hideous thought that Harry might not even be alive stuck Sirius and he laid his ear on Harry's chest. Now that he was this close, he could feel Harry's chest slightly rising and falling in labored breaths, but his heartbeat was such a faint, faltering sound that Sirius panicked.

He lifted Harry into his arms and was even more surprised at how feather light his godson's body was. He quickly formed a clear picture of the Weasley's Barrow and muttered, "Apparatus."

An instant later, he arrived outside the front door. In such passion for the need to save Harry, Sirius didn't bother with knocking or even with the handle. He kicked the door in and was greeted with startled cries from everyone inside.

"Dumbledore, Ron, somebody," Sirius struggled to get the words everyone needed to hear out. "Help. It's Harry."

And he saw Albus Dumbledore make his way through the crowd. "Sirius, what are you ta-" Dumbledore began until he saw the burden in the man's arms.

"Sirius come in." Dumbledore commanded. "Take a handful of floo powder and go to St. Mungo's. I will join you in but seconds."

Sirius did as he was directed and then whirled into the fireplace at St. Mungo's Hospital. He stepped clear of one of the many fireplaces that were part of the Floo Network for St. Mungo's. Immediately afterward, Dumbledore unfolded his tall frame from the inglenook and came straight over to Harry's limp form in Sirius's arms.

"All right, Sirius, what did you mean by that?" said Ronald Weasley, who had just arrived. "No offense, man, but you need to get past it. And let us do the same. It's not very considerate towards everyone else when you barge in with some tale about Harry. Honestly. 'It's Harry'?" Then the tall redhead joined Dumbledore and his face abruptly turned a ghastly pale. "Harry?" he croaked.

Sirius saw Hermione join the small host gathering about him and her reaction was very similar to Ron's.

"Come now, Sirius, and we'll take him to the front," Dumbledore voiced gently.

"Dumbledore, he's dying. I could barely hear his heartbeat with my head on his chest. Look at him," Sirius pleaded, close to tears. "We can't wait in line for them to admit him. He'll die right here in my arms."

"We'll take him to the front of the emergency line," Dumbledore guaranteed. "Come on now. Ron, Hermione, why don't you stay here for the moment. We'll return in a few minutes.

And so Sirius carried his lifeless godson up to the front of the emergency row and watched as they hurriedly took Harry away, worried doctors and nurses surrounding him.

AN Weeeeeeeeee! Hey, another chapter! Although, I must say that I'm a little disappointed in you, my readers. I post chapter three, and I must say that I got a whole barrel of reviews! (Yes, barrel.) I was quite pleased. Then, with an optimistic and eager attitude, I post chapter four. SHOT DOWN! To those of you who reviewedchapter four, I LOVE YOU ALL! And to those of you that didn't, GRRRRRRRRRR….

Okay, anyways, it seems that I must mention every single person. For the disclaimer at the top of the page, I must illustrate my gratitude to "The Rubber Duck" (I think that's what she calls herself.) Yes, she gave me quite a few ideas for disclaimers, all of which are incredibly amusing in my opinion. Others have developed due to my time with "Twitchet Kitty." She is now so called because of an experiment performed at our infamous lunch table. Try dangling something, ANYTHING, in front of her. She either bats at it, or pounces.

Now that you all are incredibly bored due to my incessant rambling regarding people you don't even know, I shall move on!

About when Sirius finds Harry, I was having a "bad-writing-day." I had it all planned out in my head, but I suddenly became remarkably un-descriptive and resorted to phrases along the lines of: 'not even really bothering with the handle.' It was supposed to sound protective, masculine, and heroic, but it just seemed to come out with Sirius going temporarily… hmm… shall we say, mad? Honestly, though, I don't go back to fix it because it makes me laugh. So if you don't like it, too bad!

I feel I should address a couple of points here. In case you hadn't figured it out, this was written before HBP, just a bit after OotP, in fact. I had alluded to it previously, but had never blatantly said it. I have also had a couple of questions asking why Voldemort didn't just use veritiserum or legilimency to get the answers out of Harry. Well, even though I am embarrassed to admit it: I dunno. Actually, it's more along the lines of I completely forgot about them. Whoops.

Okay! So, review! Remember, starving author! Dying author, ravished, famished, wasting away! gasp! Quick! Review! I don't know how much longer I'll last! cough! gasp! hack!