"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mad-eye Moody, an old Auror, asked the man who stood beside him.

"Of course," that man replied. His name was Harry Potter. He'd lived a life more terrible than most. His peridot green eyes spoke of intangible loss and his face drooped with unnecessary grief over the years.

His messy raven black hair hadn't been tamed; it could never be, anyway. Harry Potter's lightening bolt scar on his forehead would always be there to remind him of the horrors he'd lived through at such a young age. The scar, before three years ago, would hurt on occasion, warning him or telling him the Dark Lord, Voldemort's, feelings. It was just a relic, a memento, now, to tell the world what he'd done, what he'd learned. Voldemort had been deceased for over three years, and Harry wasn't quite yet ready to believe it.

Before Voldemort had been destroyed by the magic of the Falling Stars, Harry had found the love of his life. Just his luck, of course, she turned out to be one of the Falling Stars, and in order to use her power, she had to die. She was killed by Wormtail, one of Harry's father's former friends, before Harry knew she had to die.

Without her, or the other Falling Stars, Voldemort would still be alive. Harry knew he had to go on, but it wasn't easy when everyone who knew his father as a friend from Hogwarts was now dead. His godfather, Sirius Black, was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange five years ago; Remus Lupin, killed by Wormtail, four years ago; Severus Snape, killed by Lucius Malfoy, last year; and Wormtail, though he hadn't wanted him alive, killed by the Falling Stars magic, died three years ago.

After living three years of nothing but drugs, booze, sex, and studying, Harry Potter was little more than a shell. Knowing that those four things didn't quite match up, he still lived that way until his last year with his mentorship ended. He was a full-fledged auror, now, and he couldn't continue to live the lifestyle from before.

He couldn't have cared less.

Here Harry was, in Diagon Alley, looking for estranged Death Eaters. They had escaped from Azkaban, which was under the guard of dragons. They had escaped severely wounded, but with magic the way it was going, they were probably fine the next day.

They were a danger to anyone who came across their path. Bent upon bringing their most beloved sport back, muggle torment and muggleborn torture, they tried to dispose of any wizard who they thought would get in their way.

"Ron, you've got to help him. He knows not of what most of the escapees look like, now. You do. Charlie's training of you in Romania was an excellent career choice, Mr. Weasley," Moody complemented. Some people got old and mean. Moody got old and nice. Not easy-going, just nice.

"Thank you, sir. I wanted to do something with dragons, after I dropped out of Auror training, but I just didn't seem to know what. Then I heard they were looking for dragon keepers at Azkaban, and it was a dream come true," Ronald Weasley replied to the old man.

"So, that gave you chance to look upon the faces of the escapees, correct?" Moody asked. He hadn't noticed he was making no sense.

"Yes, as you said so, before, Moody," Ron gently reminded. Moody's memory had been going, bit by little bit, so he couldn't remember what he said five minutes ago.

"Well, get going, then, lads. We'll be counting on you," Moody said before disapparating.

"Harry, if you were a fugitive from Azkaban, where would you go?" Ron inquired once the old auror was gone.

"I'm not certain. I'd want to be surrounded by people," Harry commented lifelessly, scanning the crowd.

His eyes laid upon a dark stranger, one whom he'd never seen before, at least, not in this time. As he studied him, he noticed he looked a lot like one of his father's old friends from Hogwarts.

"Ron, I think I've just seen Sirius," Harry stated to his red-haired friend.

"Harry," Ron sighed, "You didn't see Sirius. Sirius is gone; he has been for the last five years. Get your head together if you want this mission."

"Alright," Harry groaned. He wanted to talk with that stranger who reminded him of his godfather before he went to Azkaban.

They looked and searched, but found no Death Eaters. The lead they were supposedly following had been a fake, and someone obviously wanted them to lose their trail.

That's about the time another alien entered Diagon Alley.

The person didn't know how they got there. All they remembered was suddenly being in front of a brick wall. They took out their wand, and tapped the bricks in an order that meant nothing to them.

Truth was, everything meant nothing to this foreigner. They didn't know who they were, what they were doing here, with a wand at their side, and no sense of anything around them.

They entered Diagon Alley, looking, as though searching for the answers. They saw the back of a man's head with a shock of messy black hair, and their stomach did a somersault. They couldn't think of one reason why, except that that person might be a part of their past. They decided to follow discreetly, as he already appeared to be tailed by a handsome man with hard gray eyes.

Harry couldn't help but notice the stranger from before oddly following them, as though he thought they wouldn't notice.

They were about to leave when the stranger approached Harry.

"Are you Harry Potter?" he asked. He had black hair, a little longer than most, but not too unruly. His face was handsome with hard gray eyes.

"I am," Harry replied tentatively.

"I'm James. When did Sirius Black die?" the man asked shakily. He looked about three years older than Harry.

"He died about five years ago," Harry informed. He watched as the man almost collapsed, but caught himself.

"Who did it?" James asked.

"A woman by the name of Bellatrix Lestrange. He was killed in a duel," Harry replied, knowing the man's next question.

"Is Bellatrix Lestrange still alive?" James inquired morbidly.

"I believe so. We came over here by way of a lead. The man told us he'd thought he saw an old Death Eater and we…"

"That was I," James informed Ron and Harry. "I called and gave you the lead. I couldn't think of any other way to get you over here, Harry."

"Why?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Because, Harry, my full name is James Sirius Black," James introduced.