Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"You bad Master!"

Harry winced as he woke up and hissed in pain when wincing aggravated his tender cheek. He groaned in general discomfort.

"Kreacher thought you were just different. Kreacher thought you were quirky. But Kreacher was wrong!"

"What?" Harry blearily asked, realizing there was a house elf standing on his chest.

"You bad Master! Bad, BAD!"

Harry opened his eyes and saw the house elf in question was holding up the Daily Prophet. The entire front page was a giant article entitled, "Lords Black Outduel Lord Voldemort!" with a smaller subheading 'Dark Lord retreats after gruesome broken neck.' The picture showed Harry on his knees and the Dark Lord floating immobile as his head faced the wrong direction. The moving image had Sirius running into frame, then disappearing and running into frame again, in an eternal loop.

"Oh," Harry said watching the picture and remembering why he felt so crappy.

"No-good muggle-loving Master!" Kreacher spat. "Shame on you! Fooling Kreacher into thinking you're a good Master when Master knew Master was a bad Master. Bad!"

"Right," Harry said. "Get off me, Kreacher. That's an order."

Kreacher hopped down and stalked away angrily. "Filthy evil Masters hurting the Dark Lord. Tricking Kreacher into helping muggle-loving blood traitors."

"And leave the paper," Harry added. He was forced to quickly duck as the folded newspaper was thrown at his head and the elf disappeared down the hall.

Harry kicked his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "Urh…" Harry groaned in pain. He drew his only remaining wand, the ash one with a unicorn hair and used his good hand to scourgify his clothes and sheets.

Harry walked slowly and deliberately towards his bathroom and turned on the tap. He splashed water on his face, gently rinsing the dried blood off his cheek, neck, and arms. He saw scrapes, scratches, and purple bruises all over his body. He exhaled tiredly and looked at himself in the mirror. "You look like crap," he told his reflection.

"And you're talking to a muggle mirror," the mirror snootily replied.

"I'm not stupid, you know," Harry said with a frown, before wincing in pain from frowning.

"Right," the mirror chided before standing up straighter, thrusting his hips forward, and mockingly staring Harry's eyes, "I'm a star. I'm a star. I'm a big bright shining star."

"Hey!" Harry indignantly scolded. "That's not an accurate reflection of me and you know it."

The mirror image rolled his eyes. "You're running late."

"Crap," Harry said glancing at the clock in his bedroom. He tossed on his clothes and grabbed the magical newspaper Kreacher had so kindly left behind.

Harry banged on Sirius' door and stuck his head in. "Time to wake up. We're supposed to be in front of the Wizengamot in three minutes."

"Ugh," Sirius grumbled. "Dammit Harry. You're an idiot."

"What'd I do now?"

"Why didn't you take me to St. Mungo's? I'm in pain here."

Harry pushed the door fully open. "You're a big boy. And you're not that smart."

"Oi!"

"Potions in Bella's room," Harry announced.

"Ugh," Sirius replied.

"I'm taking you with us whether you've had your potions or not."

"I hate you."

Harry shook his head and turned towards Bella's room. He added while leaving, "You made the front page."

"Sweet," Sirius happily called out before adding, "Ugh."

Harry knocked on Bellatrix's door. He waited a few seconds before walking in. "You awake?"

Bellatrix was lying in the exact same spot and just turned her head towards the door. "I wasn't until I heard you say Wizengamot."

"No pain, right?"

Bellatrix sat up looking around in confusion. "No, no pain. What did you do?"

"You haven't looked at your arm, have you?"

Bellatrix made it a habit of pulling her sleeve down to cover the Dark Mark and for the most part pretended the mark wasn't there. She slid her sleeve up and her eyes' widened. "That's impossible."

Harry helped himself to a pain-relieving potion, then a headache potion, and finished with a pepper-up.

"How did… I mean… what did you do?"

Harry tossed her the folded up paper and instructed. "It's an unofficial inquiry from the Wizengamot. The DMLE would have a warrant for your arrest if they could. And don't answer anything we tell you not to. Be ready to go in a minute. We'll get food afterwards."

Bellatrix just listened as the young man ordered her around. She wasn't sure how she felt about Harry's attitude. She unfolded the paper and looked at the front page. Her heart clenched when she looked at the massive headline and photo. She'd feared the Dark Lord's retribution but the photo of him looking so broken, filled her with hope. She felt her body shudder in happiness that she had two Lords willing to help her and stand up for her. She could truly imagine getting another chance, free from the Dark Lord. Her fragile emotional state was beginning to crumble when she was rudely interrupted.

"Hey!" Sirius yelled, pulling the paper away from her. "Keep your tears off my picture, woman."

Bellatrix just turned to see the other Lord Black smiling at the newspaper.

"Where'd I go?" Sirius questioned. "Wait… what the? I'm not even in the picture half the time. What the hell kind of reporting is this? Dammit. Harry!"

Harry came back into the room carrying witch's robes covered in a sunflower pattern. "Don't blame me. They just happened to take a picture from an angle that makes you look fat."

"Makes me look what?"

"Here, put this on," Harry said tossing the robes to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix accepted the robes and looked at Harry doubtfully. "This isn't really my style."

"I'm aiming for innocent," Harry deadpanned. "I think we both know that's not gonna come off as your style."

Bellatrix shamefully got up and faced the wall while she changed into the robes, saying nothing more.

Harry was pleased to notice Sirius hadn't even noticed her brief moment of undress as he was carefully inspecting the newspaper photo.

"I don't look… that fat," Sirius complained. "It's a funny angle."

"We're late," Harry announced. He saw Bellatrix looked uncomfortable in the very feminine robes. "Give me your wand."

Bellatrix looked hesitant but handed it over.

"They won't allow you to have it in the session," Harry explained. "But if I've got it, they can't take it away. And I can give it to you, if we think you need it."

Harry snatched the paper from Sirius and grabbed onto Bellatrix. "You can read the paper when we get there. Might be a nice show of disrespect." Harry apparated to the atrium of the Ministry, pulling Bellatrix with him side-along.

Sirius appeared with a pop moments after. He leaned forward, clutching his side. "Dammit. We've gotta go to St. Mungo's after this."

Harry winced and agreed. The group of three checked in at the front desk and hurried down to courtroom ten.

Harry barged into the sealed courtroom, loudly announcing their presence. "Sorry, we're late. Sirius had pieces of Dark Lord in his hair."

The entire collected Wizengamot looked in surprise as the Lords Black stomped into the room like they owned it, while Bellatrix Black followed them dutifully. Seated in the three seats below Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore were Director Bones, Assistant Director Potter, and Croaker from the Department of Mysteries.

A simple sturdy table with three chairs was waiting in the middle. A pitcher of ice water and three cups were provided.

Harry made a show of hissing in pain, as he clutched his side. He held up his left hand and called the Sovereign Saber into existence. He twirled it twice as a pleasant reminder to the Wizengamot and then used it as a walking stick for the last few steps to the table.

"Are you Lords alright?" Albus Dumbledore asked, seeing they both looked pretty banged up.

Sirius nodded and took the seat on the far right. "We're headed to a healer after this."

"We could reschedule…" Albus offered ignoring the other members upset murmuring at Albus' suggestion.

"No," Harry insisted taking the seat on the left, gesturing for Bellatrix to take the center chair. "Let's get this over with before my potions wear off and I get grumpy."

"You wouldn't like him when he's grumpy," Sirius warned, gulping down a glass of water and pouring himself a second.

"Come on Chief Warlock," Harry said clapping his hands loudly. "Let's get this inquisition going."

Albus cleared his throat and answered. "Madame Bones will handle Miss Black's questioning, but the events of last night have raised a few questions about both Lord Blacks as well."

"Imagine that," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

"Do you have any objections to answering some questions today?" Albus clarified.

Harry waved his hand in annoyance. "Wouldn't you just issue another summons for another unofficial interrogation in a few days if we did?"

"Most likely," Albus cheerfully agreed. He turned to the woman seated below him on the right. "Madame Bones?"

"Thank you," Madame Bones replied at suddenly being thrust to the center of attention. "Bellatrix Black, do you understand that you are not being charged with anything at this time?"

Bellatrix glanced at Harry before nodding at Madame Bones.

"As this is a formal legal body, anything you say will be taken as the oath-sworn truth and inconsistencies could constitute a crime."

Harry heard Sirius whining and handed him back the newspaper so he could read it. When Bellatrix looked at Harry again, he answered for her. "If you want her to answer the questions under veritaserum, she will. But only if we use an inverted bubble and all the questions are relayed through myself and Lord Black."

Amelia glanced at her Assistant Director who was staring thoughtfully at the three Blacks. "That won't be necessary. Miss Black, are you a Death Eater?"

She saw Harry nod and answered, "No."

"Were you a Death Eater?"

Sirius had been holding up the newspaper and reading it in an obvious show of disrespect. He whipped it to the side and leaned around the paper to ask, "Is that a crime?"

"Being a Death Eater?" Madame Bones clarified.

"Or having been one in the past," Harry added.

"No," Amelia answered. "It's not a crime."

"But it subjects you to a more official questioning without witnesses and with veritaserum," Harry stated.

"The laws on interrogating proven Death Eaters permit wartime tactics, yes," Amelia agreed. "Miss Black, were you a Death Eater?"

Harry leaned over, loudly telling Bellatrix, "Don't answer that question."

"The Dark Mark is all the proof we need," Assistant Director James Potter stated in irritation.

Sirius harrumphed and snapped his paper back up, ignoring this world's Prongs.

"Well it's a good thing she doesn't have the Dark Mark then," Harry retorted.

Sirius blew a victorious raspberry from behind his newspaper.

Amelia put her hand up to stop James and asked, "Healer Armstrong informed us she carried the Dark Mark."

Bellatrix looked at Harry who shrugged at her. He replied, "Did you have a question in there?"

"Was he correct in his statement?" Amelia inquired.

Harry stopped Bellatrix again. "I hardly think we'd be capable of interpreting his statement to you when we weren't there."

Amelia paused before rewording, "Did you have the Dark Mark when Healer Armstrong treated you?"

Harry leaned over and whispered into Bellatrix's ear. She looked at Harry curiously who just nodded in encouragement. Bellatrix leaned forward and softly answered, "I'm not here to talk about the past."

A number of Wizengamot members were unsubtle in their annoyance, huffing and grumbling as loudly as Bellatrix had spoken.

Amelia could tell they were quickly going to run out of options. "So you're admitting that you're not a Death Eater now, but are unwilling to say whether you once were."

"I'm not here to talk about the past," Bellatrix said again upon Harry's urging.

"And you don't carry the Dark Mark now, and again, are unwilling to even say whether you ever did."

Bellatrix nodded.

"Say it," Harry whispered and nudged.

"I'm not here to talk about the past," Bellatrix reiterated immediately.

"What are you here to talk about?" An annoyed member of the Wizengamot snapped.

Harry answered, "Bellatrix is here in cooperation with your request. She's openly stated she's not a Death Eater, and she doesn't carry the Dark Mark. Unless you have legal precedent demanding a response, she is free to choose whether to answer any given question or not."

"That is correct, Lord Black," Amelia said knowing they weren't going to get much of anything from this conversation. She had to try though. "Miss Black, without freely offering anything incriminating, could you tell us any details about your former associates? Their names for instance."

Bellatrix glanced at Harry and saw Sirius was still reading the paper. She leaned forward and said, "I'm not here to talk abo-"

"Talk about the past," Amelia interrupted and finished for her. "Yeah. We heard that part. I think we're just wasting each other's time now. So if you wouldn't mind proving that you don't carry the Dark Mark…"

Bella showed off her forearm and the Black family crest tattooed on it.

James Potter walked on down and cast finishing charms, ensuring it wasn't just hidden or disillusioned. "Toujours Pur," He stated loudly. "How quaint."

Sirius flipped his paper back and interjected, "We're contemplating changing it to ite-Bay e-May, itches-Bay. What do you think?"

James looked at Sirius curiously, but without quite as much animosity as usual. He walked back up to sit by his boss, informing her, "It's their family crest, not the Dark Mark."

"Thank you Miss Black," Madame Bones said with a faked smile. "Your cooperation has been… duly noted."

"Great," Sirius called out, loudly folding up his paper. "Are we done now? Because my broken ribs are starting to itch." Sirius sniffed the air a couple times. "And I think I smell roasted almonds."

"I'm sure many people are very curious about the events of last night," Albus stated. "Would you like me to call for a healer while you answer our questions?"

Harry glanced over at Sirius who nodded. "Alright," Harry agreed. "And get us some sandwiches too."

Albus leaned back and whispered something to the woman standing behind him. She left the courtroom presumably to get a healer and some sandwiches.

"First off," Harry addressed. "I want to make one thing clear: last night was a family matter and a family matter only. We're not the Department of Magical Law Enforcement nor do we have any intentions of joining the Aurors. We consider the matter between us and Lord Voldemort closed. End of story."

Albus furrowed his brow. "You do not oppose the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

"Oppose?" Harry repeated and shook his head. "Not really. I think he believes there are wrongs in this society that need to be righted, and I'm certainly agreeable to that. That is not to say I approve of his alleged methods or philosophies. And if he is arrested and found guilty of any crimes, then I would fully support seeing justice prevail. So no, I guess I don't oppose the Dark Lord."

"He's going to come after you," James Potter insisted, "whether you oppose him or not."

"I'd rather he didn't," Harry offhandedly remarked. "We've already had one conflict with him that's been resolved. I hope not to have another."

An older wizard came briskly walking into the room, wearing the robes and carrying the tools of a healer. Harry pointed at Sirius indicating he should go first and the man began to fire diagnostic charms at Sirius.

"Are you saying if you were walking down the street and saw Death Eaters attacking innocents, you would do nothing?" Amelia doubtfully asked.

"Of course not," Harry charmingly replied. "I would do what any decent person would do. I'd contact the authorities."

"You would not step in?" Lord Peter Potter stood up and asked. "You are a powerful wizard."

"A subjective claim but one that's irrelevant. Protecting the magical people of this nation is the work of the Aurors. I'm no more an auror than most everyone else in this room. And while I've met a few with the competency of a whomping willow, I won't belittle the work that they do by implying anyone could step in and do it."

Amelia rolled her eyes at the pile Harry was shoveling.

"I'll take that as a yes," Lord Potter sat down with a smile, shaking his head at Harry's answer.

Most of the Wizengamot were surprised to see no retort from Harry but a look of matching amusement on his face.

"Your turn," Sirius called out as the healer moved over towards Harry. A large plate of sandwiches had been brought in and Bellatrix and Sirius were both scarfing down lunch.

Harry let the healer examine him while the questioning continued.

"The matter of restitution needs to be addressed," Albus stated.

"Prosti-what?" Sirius repeated with a mouthful of sandwich.

"Restitution, Lord Black," Albus repeated somberly. "Your duel last night has left much damage in its wake. Seeing as how you failed to use the Lords' arena for your duel, it falls to the participant Houses of the duel to cover the cost of repairs."

"Fair enough," Harry replied while the healer was focused intently on Harry's damaged right hand. "We're prepared to match every knut Lord Voldemort pays to cover the costs."

A number of disgruntled murmurs filled the air before Sirius swallowed the bite in his mouth and said, "Actually, I was aiming to blast the Dark Lord into that teacup display. So I should probably donate to at least that particular relief effort."

"Dammit," Harry swore loudly after the healer gave him the news.

"What?"

"My bloody wand hand has seven hairline fractures. Any one of them could snap and pop right through the skin. He's gotta vanish the bones and I've gotta regrow them."

"Don't trust him," an old woman called out loudly. "He's a dark wizard. This may all be a charade manufactured by the Dark Lord."

"There's the close-mindedness the Wizengamot is famous for," Harry cheered. "Finally a voice for the voiceless incompetents."

"I'm sorry," Sirius asked with mock sincerity. "But who are you?"

"Hmph," the woman huffed refusing to answer.

Albus interjected, "Madame Edgecombe's family owns one of the buildings in Badgin Alley that sustained damages."

"I make no secret of that," Edgecombe snapped. "But it doesn't change the fact that he's a dark wizard."

"Yeah well…" Sirius shrugged. "You're a werewolf."

Madame Edgecombe stiffened at the accusation. "I most certainly am not."

"So? What does that matter?" Sirius asked in confusion. "I thought we were just making up random shit because we're irritable from all the sores on our crusty old vaginas." Sirius finished while quite obviously scratching himself.

"Lord Black, please," Amelia tiredly answered. "A little decorum while you mock and insult us would be appreciated."

"Well I never…" Madame Edgecombe's complexion was beginning to cycle between shades of anger and embarrassment. "I am making nothing up. He's a parseltongue."

"No, I'm not," Harry said while trying to gesture with his hand. The healer had just finished vanishing the bones so his arm appeared to be flapping like a flesh-filled glove. "Nice work," Harry commented towards the healer while waggling his hand.

"You deny that you're a parseltongue?" she asked with a conniving smile. "That you weren't seen hissing at the Dark Mark before your staged little duel?"

"I'm not a parseltongue," Harry tiredly explained. "I'm a parselmouth. The language I can speak and understand is parseltongue. And if you've ever seen an anaconda you can understand why I sometimes get called a parselcrotch."

"Lord Black!" Amelia snapped, looking more amused than scandalized.

"Too much?" Harry replied with a smile.

"We really don't need to know that."

Harry saw Dumbledore's beard was twitching and hiding a smile. "I'm just floating it out there," Harry said while leaning back in his seat. "You ladies make of it what you will. Well, except for you, Lord Burke."

The man in question flushed in anger but refused to be baited.

The healer finished working on Harry and gave him a topical cream and a carefully measured dose of skele-gro.

"You are a disgrace," Edgecombe harshly announced while calmly sitting back down. "A disgrace to the Wizengamot, a disgrace to wizards everywhere, and a disgrace to your family."

"A disgrace to our family," Sirius repeated skeptically. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"You don't care," Edgecombe snobbishly retorted. "We get it."

"No, you don't," Sirius said. "It's not that we don't care, it's that we don't care about people like you."

"Some of it's that we don't care," Harry corrected. "But it's also fun to point and laugh at the truly retarded aspects of any form of government that includes us."

"I hardly think this is the appropriate time for this discussion," Albus interjected despite being curious what the Lords Black had to say.

"No, I think this is a fine time," Harry said. "Don't you think it's worth noting that had we lost last night's duel, there would be a Voldemort seat here on the Wizengamot? Does it not bother more people that an idiot punk kid could slip on a ring on a whim and suddenly have the ability to inadvertently entrench the Dark Lord into the primary legislative body?"

There were a number of shocked faces glancing around.

"Surprise," Harry mocked.

"You want to talk about a disgrace?" Sirius repeated. "I know more than a few of you flounce about your titles of Lord and Baron simply because you inherited them or your family ring chose you. But how many are concerned about a cousin you've only met a few times? I mean genuinely concerned about their health and well-being, even more than your own inflated sense of self worth?"

Harry was tempted to make fun of Sirius for caring more than he pretended.

"I'm not talking about the rationalization you delude yourself with that you're only trying to make your family name respected." Sirius paused and asked in a calm voice, "But how many of you would be willing to stand up to the Dark Lord for your family?"

Harry saw Bellatrix was slumping lower and lower in her chair. He tried not to enjoy her guilt too much. "Are we about done here?" Harry asked loudly.

"Are you in a hurry, Lord Black?" James answered watching him a bit suspiciously.

Harry gestured wildly letting his boneless hand flap back and forth in the air. "Heck no. It's not like I did anything strenuous last night." Harry's floppy hand smacked himself in the cheek. "Oh wait… there was this one thing."

"Speaking of last night," Albus smoothly segued. "I found it particularly interesting that your wand and the Dark Lord's combined to form the Priori Incantatem effect."

Harry winced. "Noticed that, did you?"

Albus nodded seriously. "I also know you're aware that Mr. Ollivander was obliviated and is missing a wand."

"Before you go pointing that finger," Sirius interjected. "May I remind you that we are the reason he's even aware he was obliviated and lost a wand. We were as surprised as he was."

Madame Bones just nodded, having taken Ollivander's statement. "True, but it's still curious that you were looking for that wand specifically. Seeing as though it appears you found that wand it also raises questions about where you got it from."

"In case you missed it," Sirius answered. "Harry's wand went snap, crackle, and pop. And I don't think Voldemort's going to drop by and let you all check out his wand. For all your assumptions, they could be brother wands sharing a core of Veela ovaries."

" Phoenix song was heard," Amelia stated.

Sirius was about to retort before deflating rapidly. "Oh."

"Thanks for the help, Sirius," Harry said with a fake smile.

Sirius shrugged. "Well that's what you get for making fun of my disgrace observation."

"I didn't say anything," Harry argued.

Sirius shook his head in disagreement. "Your look said it all."

Harry resisted the urge to poke his pouting godfather in the eye. He turned towards the front of the Wizengamot. "I'm under too many other potions to take veritaserum, but I'll explain this under a truth spell."

Albus swiftly drew his wand. "Do you mind if someone other than Lord Black casts the spell on you?"

Harry glanced at Sirius and Bellatrix. "As long as you don't mind these two keeping their wands drawn."

Albus agreed and cast the intended spell on Harry. One lesser known advantage to casting the spell was the ability of the caster to feel when the spell is being resisted. That would give Albus a little more information on misleading truths or half-truths.

"Is it working?" Amelia asked turning towards Albus.

Albus nodded. "I believe so."

"Let's find out," Sirius grinned deviously. "Hey Harry, I know you saw Amy's knockers the other day. What did you think of them?"

Harry answered without pause. "They've held up better than I would've guessed. Which bodes well for the sake of Susan's breasts too."

Sirius turned towards Amelia who was keeping her head down. "Yeah, I'd say the truth spell is working."

"I would have to concur," Albus agreed. He saw a few people turn to him and quickly clarified, "That the spell is working."

"Lovely," Harry stated feeling the spell twinge at his sarcasm. "Okay, the thing with the wand is that I purchased it completely legally from… someone who I believe was the wandmaker. And I certainly never memory charmed Mr. Ollivander."

"Where did you get that wand?" Albus asked.

"I bought it from a wandmaker, and no, I'm not going to reveal the wandmaker's name."

Amelia inquired, "Do you not suspect the wandmaker may have acquired illegally? Or be guilty of attacking Mr. Ollivander?"

"For reasons I'm not going to share," Harry happily answered. "I can say that I am nearly certain the wandmaker who sold me that wand, was freely given the core and crafted it personally."

Harry didn't want to paint himself into a corner but got an idea. "I will add that I purchased my wand over a decade ago. Supposedly, there was a similar one at Ollivander's and that was why I asked Mr. Ollivander specifically for it."

Albus felt a twinge in the spell but knew everything Harry had said was the truth. He cancelled the spell and inclined his head. "Thank you for your cooperation, Lord Black."

"We done?" Sirius said, pushing himself to his feet.

"Not just yet," Albus said with an apologetic smile. "We were wondering what spell you used to finish the Dark Lord, and whether it was related to your unique form of defense in the duel."

"You don't need to know that," Sirius whined.

"I told you," Madame Edgecombe could be heard murmuring while shaking her head. "Dark. The whole family."

Harry offered, "It wasn't a spell I think anyone else could easily reproduce. But of course it was very evil, dark magic."

Sirius snorted at the deafening silence.

"Egads," Harry chided. "I've seen livelier crowds at death-day parties."

"Lord Black," Albus slowly began.

Harry put his hand up stopping Dumbledore. He looked at the Unspeakable. "Croaker, isn't it?"

Croaker nodded silently.

"You got some curse-breaking glasses?"

"I can get some," Croaker said, reaching into his inside pocket. There was a flash of magic and he pulled out a pair of rose-tinted glasses.

Harry waved him down. "I thought you might be willing to break down all of my evil, dark magic."

The pitcher of water lifted up off the table and refilled the three glasses in front of them.

"You see it?"

Croaker nodded, looking through the glasses. "Is there more to it than the two charms I see?"

Harry shook his head.

Croaker waved his hand through the glowing magical appendage, passing it through without resistance. He stuck his wand tip right into and whispered a spell that drained just a little magic from Harry's arm.

He whispered another spell analyzing the magic. "Remarkable."

"That's what the ladies tell me," Harry agreed.

Croaker ignored the sarcasm and asked, "So do you just exert more or less magic into either spell? This is an amazing amount of control."

Harry nodded and explained, "That's kind of the way it started, but at this point it's just second nature."

Croaker nodded looking at Harry's glowing appendage and saw several others emerge from his body as the pitcher and three glasses began to orbit them all. "I'm not surprised considering how the two have practically fused into one spell," Croaker added while looking only at the magic.

Dumbledore had been watching intently through his own charmed glasses as well.

"An explanation, please?" Amelia kindly ordered.

Harry set everything down and sucked his arms inward disappearing inside himself. He waved at Croaker to answer.

"It's nothing more than two sustained spells held in conjunction: one a banishing charm, the other a summoning charm," Croaker answered. "So you basically summoned the back of Voldemort's head while banishing the front, resulting in the violent twisting we all observed. How long have you been practicing those two spells?"

"Longer than anyone else I've heard of. But I think I'm predisposed to those two spells more than others. That's why I doubt anyone could easily reproduce the effect," Harry turned towards Albus. "And I think we've been patient enough. I'm exhausted and have the pain of skele-gro to look forward to instead of a nap. Was there anything else you wanted to know that can't wait?"

Albus glanced at Amelia who shook her head and nodded. "No, nothing else at this time. We thank you for your patience and cooperation, Lords Black, Miss Black."

Sirius jumped right up out of his seat, happy to go. Harry and Bellatrix followed him at a more sedate pace. By the time they caught up with Sirius, he was surrounded by a half dozen reporters and photographers.

"Did the Dark Lord-"

"It was purely a family matter," Sirius interrupted as quills were whisking in notebooks. "Let me make this clear. We're not opposed to the Dark Lord. We're certainly not supporting him either. If he's guilty of the crimes he's accused of then I hope the Aurors can arrest him and put him on trial. But we're not interested in doing the job of the DMLE."

"He's going to want you dead," one man in a brown hat stated.

Sirius shrugged indifferent. "I suppose it's possible he could be the type to hold a grudge, but as far as I'm concerned the matter between him and the Blacks is closed."

"Don't you feel you have a responsibility-"

"Yes," Sirius interrupted. "As a Lord, I have a responsibility to my family. Of course ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you I'm not a very responsible person."

Harry caught Sirius' eye and jerked his head towards the atrium.

Sirius nodded and gave them a chance to escape unnoticed. He addressed the reporters and said, "You know I've been called a muggle-lover, simply because I dislike muggles just as much as I dislike wizards. But when it comes to the measure of a wizard, I wonder how many would be willing to stand up to the Dark Lord, or the Minsitry. Or even Albus Dumbledore for that matter. The only thing I knew about Bellatrix was that she was a Black. And as her Lord, that's enough. Anything else is a private family matter. Thank you."

Sirius hurried after Harry and Bellatrix, quickly apparating back to Grimmauld Place.

"Dammit," Sirius called out wondering where Harry and Bellatrix were. "You know what I just realized?"

"I'm in the muggle room," Harry's voice called back. "What did you realize?"

"I realized," Sirius ruefully admitted, "that 'Parselcrotch' is going to sell more shirts than any of my lines. Hell, I want a shirt that says 'Parselcrotch' on it. Maybe with a picture of a giant spitting hooded cobra."

"I'm sure Fred and George will have them on the shelves by the end of the day," Harry winced and clenched his eyes shut. "Let me start the sappy movie."

Sirius glanced at the screen as it came to life and turned back to Harry. "Why a sappy movie?"

Harry took a deep breath, patting himself on the arm with his good hand. "I can't sleep when I'm regrowing bones. And if my eyes water in irritation it won't be the work of some random bug I made up that flew in my eye."

"It was real," Sirius said for what felt like the hundredth time.

Harry ignored and continued. "It will be because I'm emotionally moved by this rich and dramatic tale. No other reason."

"You're gonna cry," Sirius laughed and pointed. He stopped and looked around, "Where's our resident psycho-bitch at?"

Harry pointed down the hall. "She's in her room. Kreacher was going to get her some food. I think he likes her more than us."

"We're going to need to figure something out for those two."

"I don't really trust either of them on their own, let alone together," Harry said. "But it's not like this side of Kreacher is terribly surprising."

Sirius nodded and silently watched some of the movie while fighting a smirk every time he heard Harry hissing softly in pain.

"Hey Harry?" Sirius said waiting for Harry to look over. "Why did you tell them so much about your wand and your freaky arm thing? We didn't have to answer."

"Why'd you care so much when I was called a disgrace?"

"I didn't care," Sirius explained. "I just wanted…"

"Stop looking for an answer," Harry said noticing Sirius was searching for an excuse. "I just was pointing out that you cared first."

"You answered their questions because you cared? And I didn't care by the way."

Harry paused the movie and explained. "I've had to deal with being looked at as both the poncy hero and as the next coming of the Dark Lord. And if I'm picking the lesser of two evils here, I don't want the headaches that come with them thinking of me as the next Dark Lord."

Sirius shook his head. "You cared."

"Besides," Harry added. "The best way to keep big secrets is to freely tell all the little ones and act like you have nothing to hide."

"Huh?"

"If you got ten questions about someone, and they eagerly and freely answer the first eight, then you're less likely to doubt or demand the answers to the last two."

"Oh, I get it," Sirius smiled. "You cared."

Harry ignored Sirius, turning back towards the movie and starting it up again.

Sirius stayed quiet for about a minute before asking "Hey Harry? Was your Voldemort a lot stronger?"

Harry paused the movie again and turned to his godfather curiously. "My Voldemort? Like he was a possession or a husband?"

"You know what I mean. Was he harder to defeat?"

Harry sighed, scratching his chin in thought. "Harder? Well… this Voldemort was a lot more composed and analytical. I guess this one wasn't quite so psychotic really. But stronger?" Harry sighed, deep in thought. "I think this one could've outlasted our old one."

"Really?" Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. "Did you see how many spells he cast? That kind of volume's ridiculous. And he still had more in him."

"We won," Sirius weakly added. "Stop trying to scare me."

"You asked."

Sirius kicked his feet up and laid back on the couch. "I hope he's hurting." He glanced over at Harry. "Or at least crying as much as you are, you big baby."

"I'm not above vanishing your pelvic bone."

Sirius frowned in confusion. "I don't think there's any real bone in that."

Harry sighed and started the movie again.

An ear-piercing shriek echoed around the stone chamber, sustained for ten agonizing seconds.

Voldemort stopped and panted as he caught his breath. He lay flat on his back on the altar in the middle of an old ritual room. He didn't care how immature and undignified he may have appeared. There were moments when his anger was better served yelling at the top of his magically enhanced lungs.

He had undergone enough rituals that his body was in the process of healing itself from injuries that would have easily killed lesser men. Already his mouth and jaw were working, though he still could not turn his head, nor could he feel anything below his neck.

Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, the healing was moving at a glacial pace. Fully healing his spine could take years, and there was no way to know when he might regain control of his limbs. But he knew of another way. Only the alternative ensured his magic would be drained and chaotic for weeks. After conceding that weeks would be preferable to relying on his limited ritual-created ability, he'd called for Rabastan Lestrange. And ordered him to go out and find a muggle as close to exactly the Dark Lord's size as possible.

Now he was just waiting here for Rabastan to return, with all the time in the world to think over how things had gone so wrong.

Just two days ago the Dark Lord had been torturing a new recruit, satisfied in the knowledge that it was being felt by the deserter, Bellatrix Black, when he was crudely interrupted by one of his faithful with an urgent message.

He'd heard many such tales of the Lords Black already and he hoped to gain their allegiance. When he arrived and saw his downed Death Eaters, he hoped they were putting on a show of their talents. When the one named Harry conversed with the Dark Mark in parseltongue, he hoped he had found a loyal kindred spirit.

But the Dark Lord had been foolish to hold onto hope.

He would humbly admit that they played him masterfully. First through capturing his attention long enough to humor them, then by tempting him with something useful to offer, and finally by inciting his anger until he had acted irrationally.

Voldemort at first wanted to claim their dueling skills were no match for him. Sirius would have fit right in with the inner circle, and Harry seemed too concerned with defense, showing only modest skills in offense. But the Dark Lord also realized it was that assessment of Harry that had permitted the young man's close approach. And he wasn't going to forget the smile that flashed on Harry's face just before the Dark Lord got turned into a captive of his own body.

Harry had been playing nice, waiting until he was close enough to strike.

Voldemort was confident they couldn't have killed him. He had too many protections against that. But when his neck broke, and he couldn't move his body, he had felt helpless. And that scared him. How easily he could have been captured then, and even now he was still susceptible.

The Dark Lord had been pleased to discover his magic was getting restless trapped inside his body and could now be focused in ways it never had before. It had only taken a burst of anger to explode the door to this room when he'd first portkeyed back here.

He had possessed one of the recruits when he had to address his faithful, but even that healthy young body couldn't sustain him and he was back here in his own flesh prison within a matter of hours.

The Dark Lord shrieked once more at the top of his lungs. He was angry. But he was disappointed in himself even more.

"You okay, Master?" the younger Goyle asked, sticking his head into the ritual room.

Voldemort closed his eyes and concentrated. He was rewarded by the sound of a fleshy pop and a kneecap came spinning across the floor, clacking against the altar the Dark Lord rested on. He happily chuckled to himself at the sound of Goyle screaming in pain, unable to even touch his bloodied leg.

He heard an obviously more intelligent recruit stun young Goyle and drag his body out from the doorway. The Dark Lord sighed again wondering how hard finding a muggle his size would be.

Returning to his musings he briefly wondered if the Lords Black were a manipulation of his unknown nemesis. Most often the Dark Lord referred to him as 'that fucker' considering how little was known of him. Numerous plans over the years had been foiled by that fucker, many of them in the early stages. He had first suspected there was a spy amongst his inner circle, but Voldemort had re-established each of their loyalties personally.

All Voldemort knew was that fucker seemed to be a complete enigma. He was operating from the shadows exclusively for almost two decades, as no one seemed to know anything about that fucker. The rumor that it was Neville Longbottom the Dark Lord found laughable. The mere idea that a child could match up to the Heir of Slytherin was so unfathomable that it didn't even anger the Dark Lord. It amused him.

He knew that fucker wasn't a kid. He'd dueled with him on dozens of occasions. Never for more than a minute or two before one or the other fled the scene. And that fucker wasn't shy about blowing shit up. The Dark Lord knew that fucker had an elegance and style similar to his own. And a ruthlessness that scared every one of his Death Eaters.

The two Lord Blacks possessed little style and more blunt force trauma in their execution. That was one part of Harry that not even that fucker could have faked. A tired clumsiness to his actions, that neither the Dark Lord nor that fucker would ever willingly show.

Voldemort sighed thinking about the myriad of fronts he was forced to constantly fend off, whether it was that fucker, Dumbledore and his flaming little Order, the increasingly competent Aurors, or now the Lords Black.

He had read the Prophet and heard reports from other sources that the article was completely accurate. The Lords Black wanted nothing to do with him and really were only interested in protecting Bellatrix Black's soul. They weren't going to assist the Ministry, and given their attitudes in the Wizengamot sessions weren't going to fall in line with Dumbledore any time soon. They weren't even gloating over their very public victory.

The Dark Lord honestly found it a bit disturbing. Because he really had no idea what to make of it. Could they genuinely believe he'd just let it go and consider the matter closed as they pretended to? Were they really deluding themselves into thinking they might not get any retribution from him? Voldemort was truly lost on what to deduce from their behavior.

If anything, the Dark Lord figured, their unpredictability was about all you could count on. And from what Voldemort could tell, it seemed to focus on Harry more than it did Sirius. His behavior and skills were just one revelation after the next, from his gift for the serpent tongue to the scar on his forehead to his magical arms. And to willingly and publicly divulge the secret of his arms? That's what puzzled Voldemort the most.

He was trying to gain an understanding of the two Lord Blacks. His musings led him back to his brief attempt at Legilimency. Neither had any noticeable protection though Harry had immediately located him and ejected him forcefully enough to snap his hold on both of them. But it was not before he had gleaned a single thought from each of their heads. Two more pieces of the puzzle that formed this unique pair of Lord Blacks.

From Harry's mind he had discovered that Sirius was Harry's godfather. A relationship that was even more important when combined with what he had extracted from Sirius' head: Harry was the son of Sirius' best friend.

That pointed strongly to the conclusion that they weren't both born Blacks. When he considered that at the time Sirius Black was healing in St. Mungo's he was not yet Lord Black, it appeared that Harry had received the title first and yet Harry was the one less likely to have been born a Black.

For Harry to receive the Lordship, he would likely have inherited it from his godfather, indicating… that Sirius had died? The Dark Lord could tell he was getting somewhere and continued to brainstorm. He began to think that Harry may have traveled back in time after having become Lord Black, and then altered the timeline and saved his godfather's life.

Therefore he was already Lord Black, and he could assist Sirius in gaining the same title. The Dark Lord was trying to imagine just how powerful the magic to accomplish something like that would be when he froze in recognition.

He couldn't believe he had been so oblivious. It had been twenty-five years since he'd last encountered a Sirius Black with a godson named Harry. He knew without a doubt that he had killed those two, but the situations were damning in the similarities.

He started to try and imagine how Harry could have splintered the timeline that far into the past when he suddenly caught on to the fact that he didn't have to go back at all. These weren't the Sirius and Harry of this timeline. These two came from another one entirely. Sirius came first, and that's how Harry received the Lordship in their world. Then Harry came after Sirius and helped Sirius gain the Lordship in this one. They really did just arrive in the last few months.

Voldemort then connected that Lord Harry Black was a different Harry Potter, and a viable subject of his prophecy. That made things far more complicated.

Yet again, the Dark Lord screamed in frustration.

"I've got one, Master!" Rabastan Lestrange announced levitating an awake and frightened muggle into the chamber.

"It's about bloody time," Voldemort snarled. "Show him to me."

Rabastan directed the man to hover over the Dark Lord so that he could get a look at him. "He may look a little taller, but that's just the hair."

Voldemort looked up at the man blocking his light. "He'll have to do. Strip him. And lay him on top of me. Face up."

Voldemort's robes fell open revealing his own nude body, and the petrified man was set down right on top of the Dark Lord.

"I've got him," Voldemort ordered, seizing control of the spell with only his mind. "Leave us. And seal the door behind you."

"Yes Master," Rabastan happily agreed, eager to get out of there. He felt the locks on the door latch before he could turn them himself.

"First things first," Voldemort said, extending his tongue to lick the back of the man's head. "Let's break that silencing spell."

The man's frightened gasps and yelps were made audible and he shouted at simply having the ability to do so.

"Go ahead and scream," Voldemort hissed at him, pooling his magic at the surfaces where their bodies met. "It inspires me."

The screams echoed throughout the room and all the halls in the building. Many Death Eaters were relishing in the haunting sounds, while their weaker-willed brethren were intimidated by them.

About twelve hours later the inner circle was assembled waiting outside the ritual room door.

The Dark Lord opened the door with his hand and stood there leaning against the door frame. His skin was white but looked shiny and new. Behind him on the altar was what appeared to be a skin sack filled with fluid and tissue that only vaguely resembled the muggle.

Voldemort was panting from the effort but was very pleased to be mobile once again. "I want to know everything there is to know about the Lord Blacks. No one is to touch them, understood?"

The inner circle all nodded their heads obediently, completely masking their own opinions.

While trying to block out the pain, Voldemort had been doing a lot more thinking on the presence of this Harry Potter, if he was in fact Harry Potter. The more he considered it, the more sense it made to the Dark Lord. But he wasn't going to rule out that fucker either. He briefly entertained thoughts of how revealing their secret could be used against them, or to blackmail them, before remembering the prophecy. Which would mean their secret getting out would probably hurt him more than either of them.

"The Lord Blacks are off limits until I say so. But if you find the deserter," Voldemort clenched his teeth demanding, "Make an example of her."

He dismissed his inner circle and began to calmly walk back to his own chambers, hiding the pain he was still in. He realized that if Harry and Sirius really did just arrive in this timeline, then their ignorance of the differences between worlds could be used against them.

And then, when the time is right and they had run out of surprises to hide behind, he would savor killing Harry Potter again.

Sirius Black though would be denied the mercy of joining his godson in death. No, the Dark Lord thought with a grim smile, Sirius' pain would come from living.