Disclaimer in Chapter 1.
Chapter V: Visions and Visits
Harry surveyed his surroundings. He was in the Headmaster's office, but as he looked down at his hands he seemed... younger. What was this?
Dumbledore looked pensive, his hands were clasped together. His eyes were measuring the Boy who Lived, as if trying to determine if he was up for this mission. With a resigned sigh, he made up his mind. "Harry, I've sent for you because we have a very large problem on our hands. A student, one Ginevra Weasley, has been abducted and taken to an unknown location in the castle known as 'The Chamber of Secrets'." He passed Harry a recent photograph of the hostage. "I'd give you the back history on it, but frankly there is no time. We have reason to believe that someone intentionally reopened the chamber and set a basilisk loose inside of Hogwarts. I assume you are familiar with basilisks."
"Yes, Sir. Green serpent capable of reaching over 50 feet in length. Meeting the gaze of a basilisk is instant death, its fangs are incredibly poisonous as well. They are considered the second most dangerous creatures in the world." He rattled off in a monotone, then stood at attention and awaited his orders. His mind was silent and still, disciplined heavily against erroneous thoughts and imaginations. His voice was noticeably higher-pitched. Was this a dream? Did this already happen?
"Good. All the students have been sent to their respective dormitories, I order you to utilize any and all means necessary to procure the location of the Chamber of Secrets. Gain access to the chamber, mark it with a targeting spell and search the area for the hostage. Your main priority is the safety of the hostage. Find her, bring her to my office immediately. If you should have contact with the basilisk, you are hereby authorized to use any and all means necessary to terminate it, short of endangering the hostage. If you feel this is above your abilities, please speak now."
Harry was silent, staring off into space and committing his mission to memory. In a battle, you couldn't afford to read your orders. Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Very well, Mr. Potter. You may take your leave."
The green-eyed boy saluted smartly, spun on his heel and marched out of the office. Once he was down the stairs, he took out his wand and said, "Accio spider." After a few moments, a small brown arachnid came flying at him. He caught it and placed it on the ground. The brown spider scurried away to the right hurriedly, Harry summoned him again and ran to the left. He was bitten several times on the palm, but the spider was not poisonous. Every 50 feet, he would drop the spider and see which way it ran. Spiders were terrified of basilisks, they would run away when they sensed one. This spider was no exception.
Soon it brought him to a dank restroom that looked as if it hadn't been used in years. He dropped the spider from the center of the room, and it ran directly away from the wash basins. "Reducto." He said, slashing his wand towards the object.
It exploded in a shower of marble dust, leaving a tunnel that led straight down. Harry marked the area with a targeting spell as per his objectives, placed a sticking charm on the soles of his boots and inhaled deeply. It might be the last breath of fresh air he was going to get for a while; he needed every last ounce of oxygen he could get. Stepping forward into nothingness, he rotated downwards until his foot made contact with the wall of the pipe. He pulled his foot off of the bathroom floor and walked vertically down the tunnel. It was a noticeable strain on his abdomen, but he could hold this position silently for at least half an hour, if necessary. The hole soon emptied into a large room which was quite dark, so he used a lighting charm on a stone in the wall. He couldn't afford to be broadcasting his exact position, even though basilisks had poor eyesight. It was their extraordinary sense of smell he was worried about.
He loosened his jacket, unbuttoning it all the way and slipping both of his sleeves out. Tying the black jacket around his waist with a half-knot, Harry made his way down a dark passageway. He came across a very large shedding, at least 20 feet long, which meant that it was bigger now. Still, he had a mission to do. Nothing came before that, least of all his firmly repressed doubts. He WAS competent, he WAS trained for this, and he was most certainly going to do his job. Gritting his teeth, he walked onward.
The passageway opened up into a large, dimly lit chamber. It was enormous, stretching at least two hundred yards. There were stone pillars on each side of him, supporting a ceiling so high that it was lost in darkness. A huge statue stood at the far end, it was a wizard with a tremendously long beard that ended just above his ankles.
And right in front of the stone statue was a black-robed figure laying face up on the floor, red hair fanned out around her head. Ginny. He rushed over to her and ran a preliminary check of her vitals. She had a very weak pulse, her breathing was shallow. She was pale, cold and unconscious, but she was still alive. Barely. She would require medical attention, and soon.
"She won't wake up." A voice from behind Harry startled him. He whirled around, spinning on the balls of his feet and coming up with his wand pointed at the unknown person. The boy was leaned against a pillar, regarding him quietly. He was wearing Hogwarts robes, and did not have a wand out. His body was strangely blurry around the edges.
Harry wasn't exactly confused, but his orders were unclear on this point. His mission was for one hostage, Ginny Weasley. Who was this boy, and why was he down here? More importantly, what did his superiors expect him to do with this extra baggage? He hadn't asked, so it couldn't be helped. He'd have to rescue him as well. "It is in your best interests to evacuate the area. It has been confirmed that a basilisk resides in the immediate vicinity; your life is in grave danger. If you follow the lighted stones in the wall, it will take you to a vertical pipe. Wait for me there, and I will take you up to the surface." He finished his instructions and waited for the non-combatant to comply.
The boy pushed himself off of the pillar and walked towards Harry. Did he not understand? He repeated himself, making sure to enunciate clearly this time. "I have instructed you to evacuate. You should leave the area immediately. There is a basilisk in the immediate vicinity and you are in mortal peril."
Approaching Harry, the black-haired boy laughed down at the Boy who Lived. "Of course there is! I set him loose! Why else do you think I'd be down here in this dank chamber, if not because I mean to be? Speaking of which, my pet should be coming back very soon. Ginny will die, and I will be made whole once more. All thanks to my diary." Harry's head turned, spotting the small black book next to Ginny's prone form.
"Explain yourself." Harry said in a monotone. He had no patience for riddles, especially during a time-critical mission.
"Isn't it obvious, Potter? I've been trapped in that damned diary for fifty years, under lock and key if you will, and now through the young Miss Weasley I finally have the means to leave its pages and enter the world once more. I am met with an interesting predicament, however. You see, I was under the assumption that Lord Voldemort would have killed you by now. However, you appear healthy and whole which leads me to believe that either you have been incredibly lucky thus far, or incredibly well-protected. You managed to survive a killing curse, thought impossible at the time, cast by the greatest wizard who ever lived. Me."
Harry was not a fool. This boy's use of 'Lord Voldemort', instead of he-who-must-not-be-named or some other euphemism indicated that he was either a direct follower of Riddle or looking to become one. He had been trapped inside a diary, the only thing that could do that was a Horcrux. Incredibly dark magic, some of the darkest ever used by wizardkind. Ginny was being used to bring this boy back into existence, which meant that he was killing her. The greatest wizard who ever lived was a title Voldemort had given himself, as flawed a statement as it was. This boy was not a hostage. He was the enemy.
Reaching down, Harry grabbed a handful of granite and pulled. A simple broadsword came up from the ground. The enemy boy clapped. "Transmutation! I haven't seen a wizard as capable as you since... well, me. Of course, it was never my field of expertise. I was much more interes-" his sentence was cut off by Harry, who had plunged the tip of the broadsword rather violently into his neck.
The Boy who Lived pushed on the blade, sinking it up to the hilt in the throat of the tall boy. Stepping back quickly, Harry said, "Incendio." The blade burst into flames hot enough to burn away flesh.
The tall boy just laughed, pulling the sword out of his throat with his bare hands. He discarded the flaming weapon, suffering no burns or damage from the fire at all. There was no wound on his neck at all. Harry nearly dropped his wand in surprise, his mind racing. If he was invincible, that meant he was still...
Retreating hastily, Harry backed up until he was beside Ginny, then fell on his backside. The tall boy laughed down at him. "Really now, Potter, I expected you to stand and meet your demise like a ... what are you doing?"
Harry groped around, finally grasping the small black book next to Ginny. He only knew one spell that would defeat a horcrux, and it required quite a bit of energy. Gripping the book with both hands, he said, "Pallida mors edax."
"NO!!" Shouted the tall boy, reaching out to stop him. But it was too late. The book exploded in shreds, creating a near-blinding light that forced Harry to squeeze his eyes shut. The heat was intense, searing his hands badly as he held onto the book, willing it to be destroyed. It was a whirlwind of agony, swirling inside of him out of control...
Then just like that, it was over.
When Harry opened his eyes, the tall boy was gone. The book was scattered over a ten-foot radius, pieces of parchment were everywhere. The chamber was completely silent, save the sound of Harry's heartbeat thrumming in his temples. He had not been expecting that.
A rumbling behind him was his only warning. He scampered for his wand, snatching it up and rolling to come up facing a possible threat. A hole had opened in the statue, at least 7 feet in diameter...
Oh no. This was not looking good. As fast as he could, Harry grabbed his wand and cast half a dozen conjunctivitis spells into the hole. A strange hissing sound was heard, but none of the curses appeared to hit. The Boy who Lived screwed his eyes shut, removed his jacket from his waist and spread it over Ginny, casting a charm to shield her scent from the snake.
The snake hissed in a low rumble, but Harry could understand what it was saying. He was, after all, a parselmouth. His instructors told him that he gained the ability from Voldemort himself when he got his lightning bolt scar. "Heretic! You have slain the Heir of Slytherin!!" The coarse rub of scales on granite was fast approaching; no doubt the basilisk had revenge in mind.
The spell to destroy the Horcrux took a lot out of a wizard, but he couldn't afford to be tired right now. Were his eyes open, he had no doubt he would be looking death in the face. He forced his body to move. He needed time. "Wait!" Harry cried out in parseltongue. "Mighty Serpent, do not kill me!"
Partially out of shock, the basilisk stopped advancing, "You speak the serpent tongue, human, but you have committed an unforgivable sin! Why should I not eat you where you stand?!" The sheer volume of the enraged hissing shook Harry's bones. The king of snakes was only 25 to 30 feet away from them. The sound appeared to come from all directions, he couldn't tell which way the snake was.
He knelt down, feeling for Ginny. Once he found her, he straddled her and put both of his hands on the granite on either side of her head. The safe zone for this technique was incredibly small; he couldn't allow the hostage to be harmed. He summoned every scrap of magical power left in his systems, tapping even his vast reserves dry. The amount of energy he was about to release had a good probability of killing him from the strain, but he couldn't afford to care at the moment: the mission had to come first. Ginny's safety had to come first. Steeling himself, he answered, "Because, serpent, I am the instrument of your destruction!" The basilisk hissed in rage, shaking the stone pillars around them. With a shout, Harry pushed every last ounce of usable magic into the stone below his hands.
A circular granite shockwave shot out from beneath them, sending ripples through the heavy and hardened rock. Once the fast-moving wave was five feet out in every direction, it bloomed. Razor-pointed granite spikes exploded silently from the ground, unfurling like a lotus as the shockwave traveled further out. The deadly corona of spikes shot thirty feet into the air, rolling in deadly arcs like a huge meat grinder. A terrible screech of pain was heard; it resonated off of the walls and assaulted Harry's senses. Then it was cut off abruptly, and the shockwave continued until it reached the edges of the chamber. The entire chamber was blanketed in spikes so numerous that they appeared to be grey blades of grass.
The only area unaffected by the deadly blooming spikes was the five foot radius around Harry.
Silence reigned over the chamber as the Boy who Lived opened his eyes tiredly. He was drained, utterly and completely. He couldn't have cast a simple lumos charm, his magical reserves were so far gone. Pulling his jacket off of the prone form under him and staring down at the hostage, he checked her pulse again. Drips of sweat rolled down his face, pooling on his chin and dripping onto her black robes. She was still alive. Good.
Maybe it was the severity of the situation, or the fact that his recent magical discharge hadn't killed him, but he found himself captivated by the sleeping girl underneath him. The way freckles dotted her nose and cheeks daintily, the way her cheeks were flushing with the return of blood to her face. She was going to make it. Relief flooded him, causing him to slump a little.
He was more tired than he could ever remember being, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She looked positively angelic in the dull light of the Chamber of Secrets. His face moved closer to hers mechanically, subconsciously. So slowly that his eyes didn't even register the change in distance. It was understandably surprising to Harry, then, when his lips touched hers. Just a petal soft brush, really, but Harry bolted upright as if struck by a stinging hex. Why had he just done that? Confusion washed over him, but he shook his head. His mission wasn't completed.
Looking up, Harry saw the basilisk and immediately wished he hadn't. It had been chopped into at least several dozen pieces, none larger than Harry. Dark red blood was spreading over a good portion of what was left of the floor. The smell was incredibly rank and guaranteed to get worse as the mutilated flesh drifted ever closer to them, adrift in a shallow sea of pitch-black blood.
He pulled Ginny up into a sitting position, sitting between her legs and tying his jacket around both of them. His strength was failing fast, trying to regenerate his magical reserves physically. He needed to move, and he needed to do it now. Leaning forward, he forced himself into a kneeling position, then one leg after another he stood shakily.
After tightening the jacket around them both, he draped Ginny's arms over his shoulders and hooked his own arms under her legs. It hurt, every muscle in his body screamed against doing this, but his mission came first. One step at a time, using the granite spikes for support, he made his way carefully through the makeshift maze of stone towards the exit.
He hoped his sticking charm hadn't worn off yet.
Nearly twenty minutes later, Albus was having a firechat with three different people, not the least of which was Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. He happened to be the father of Ginevra Weasley, and was rather frantic about Albus' search for his daughter. "Mr. Weasley, I assure you we are doing all that we can for your daughter. We have a most qualified individual on it as we speak. In fact..."
As he said that, two loud impacts with the double doors of Dumbledore's office were heard. They didn't sound like a rap, a tap or a knock. Rather, they sounded like someone banging their head against his door.
"I apologize for cutting our meeting short. Gentlemen, you will have to excuse me. Arthur, you may stay if you promise not to make a sound." Albus stood and said in a clear voice, "Come in, Harry."
Two disgruntled heads disappeared from the fire, leaving a very worried Arthur Weasley craning his neck to get a good view of the doors. They opened to reveal a boy who couldn't be older than 14; he had someone tied to his back with a jacket... Ginny! Arthur bit his lip to keep from crying out to her. The boy had messy black hair, green eyes that were drooping dangerously, and a stagger in his walk that said his body couldn't afford to take another step. Yet somehow, he managed to take several more steps and stand somewhat rigidly at attention. It didn't stop him from swaying in place, though. "Mission successful, Sir. Ginevra Weasley is safely in custody, the basilisk has been terminated. Awaiting further orders." He sounded breathless, weak. As if his willpower alone was fueling his voice and his legs.
Albus nodded. "Escort her to the hospital wing, Mr. Potter, and check yourself in. I'll contact you for your after-action report at a later date. You have done an incredible job today."
Harry shook his head tiredly, eyelids drooping further. "Just doing my job, Sir." With a curt nod, as both of his hands were tied up supporting Ginny's weight, he turned and made his way painfully down the stairs towards the hospital wing, trying not to wince with every step. A soldier shows no pain, no weakness. Albus turned back to the fire to inform the necessary parties that the crisis was over.
Left. Right. Left. Right. He recited the words over and over, focusing only on the ground directly in front of him. Where was the hospital wing? His memory was becoming very indistinct. He'd never been to Hogwarts before. Why wasn't anybody in the halls, wasn't this a school? Schools were supposed to be filled with students. Left. Right. Ginny wasn't very heavy, but she seemed to weigh more with every step. He didn't know how much longer he could carry her before he collapsed. It was all he could do to take the next step. Left. Right. Oh look, directions.
Following the arrows, it only took five minutes to reach the hospital wing. Harry pushed the slightly ajar door fully open with his head, afraid that if he moved his arms Ginny would fall onto the granite floor. He made his way over to an empty bed in front of him and sat Miss Weasley down on it. Slowly, he untied his jacket and lowered her gently onto the white sheets.
She looked so peaceful, as if her life hadn't been minutes or hours from expiring just a short while ago. A plump woman shrieked and ran over to them, fussing mightily about the condition of the girl on the bed.
Good. She looked like a qualified medi-witch. Mission complete. The sense of fulfillment he only got from those two words flooded him. He blinked, and the moment his eyes closed all the way he lost his balance. The ground was reaching up to meet him, he was going to hit but his arms wouldn't move to break his fall...
Harry woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his hospital bed. Was that a dream? It seemed too real, like a memory in a pensieve. He looked down at his hands, which seemed none the worse for wear except for his left arm was in a sling. His bones had stopped moving some time around 4 am, but it couldn't be much later than 6 am at the moment. The sun wasn't up yet, although the hint of light just before dawn was fast approaching. He immediately check the bed to his left, there was no sign of Ginny. Good, she was alright. He exhaled slowly, then inhaled again. Slowing his heartbeat down, he drifted off into sleep again. Hopefully this time he would stay asleep for a while longer.
The fireplace in the Headmaster's office had not been out for a solid 12 hours. Albus was certainly feeling his age by now. "I've already told you, Ms. Skeeter: you are under contract. If you print Harry Potter's name, or give any reference to the Boy who Lived, we will revoke your journalist license and you will no longer be allowed to print anything... Yes, it's censorship. Of course, it impedes on your rights as a witch and a journalist. Yes yes, I'm sure you'll do just that." He wasn't even paying attention to the lady, who looked positively furious.
"Now listen here, Dumbledore. I'm going to find every last bit of dirt you've got and put them up for the world to see! Every mistake you ever thought of making is going to be printed in full-page articles, and I'm going to laugh as I ruin your life!" Rita fumed, already plotting.
Albus just smiled down at her displaced head. "Well, as long as you keep Harry's name out of your papers, you can write to your heart's content. Have a good day, Ms. Skeeter."
"Wait, Albus, I'm not d-" He closed the connection, sending her head back to its rightful place on her shoulders.
No sooner had he turned around to get the last of his daily paperwork done then the fireplace roared up again. He sighed, speaking as pleasantly as he could manage. "If you call me one more time at this hour, I'll have a restraining order put on you." He spun around in his chair to berate the incredibly nosey journalist, but it was someone else in the fireplace this time.
A handsome man, to be sure, with close-cropped black hair and fathomless grey eyes. "Why Albus, I didn't know you cared." He barked a laugh at the Headmaster's plight, "Been up all night again, eh? Damned reporters. You only need to make an example out of one and the rest of them will get the idea. Hell, I'll volunteer for that assignment."
"Why Sirius, it's been ages. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Albus said as nonchalantly as he could. Whenever Sirius Black firecalled him, it was always something big. "Harry was injured during the course of his mission, he's in no condition to be fighting just yet."
Sirius shook his head, disagreeing heartily. "No, Albus, he's not in any condition to be fighting just yet. I've heard about his injuries. How did the boy do?" Ah. He was checking up on his Godson's performance.
Albus's eyes twinkled, a smile lit his face. "The boy is positively remarkable. He completed his mission inside of two hours, most of which was flying back afterwards. He had been shot with a muggle projectile weapon, from what Madam Pomfrey has told me it is incredibly painful. He is a strong boy, Sirius. Far too strong. His methods were somewhat barbaric, but I will assume he had a good reason for using such a level of force. Professional, courteous, highly disciplined. Were he a year older, any wizarding force in the world would be ecstatic to have him join their ranks. He did exactly what needed to be done, and he did it with all possible expediency. You should be proud of him, Sirius."
He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "He and Ginny Weasley seem to be getting along famously, as well. He spends each meal with her and her brother Ronald and his girlfriend Hermione. They walk to and from class together, they study together. I think there is hope for that boy yet."
"I am proud, Albus. Perhaps too proud for my own good." Sirius grinned wolfishly. "And I'll have to meet the girl that the untouchable Harry Potter has his eye on. Frankly, I was getting a bit worried about the boy. He has never shown any interest in women before now, not even a scrap. I even intentionally left some dirty magazines strewn about his room; he stacked them neatly and left them on my bed! Didn't even leaf through 'em! No curiosity, no rampant teenage hormones... I was beginning to fear that the Potter line was going to end!" He sighed dramatically, putting a hand up to his forehead.
Dumbledore shook his head at the overgrown child before him. "I'm sure you could have whipped him into shape long enough to produce an heir, Sirius."
"Whipped him into shape?" Sirius snorted, "Albus, I haven't been able to touch that boy since he was 13. Not even when he was asleep. Speaking of which, it's time I arranged a visit. What would you say to ... about 2 hours from now?"
Harry's eyes snapped open, searching the area immediately. He had been awakened by the presence of a familiar magical signature just outside of the Hospital Wing door. Sniffing uncertainly, he smirked.
Sirius opened the door to the Hospital Wing slowly after putting silencing charms on the hinges. No sense letting a squeak give him away. His wand was drawn, pointed at the only bed in the area that had a curtain drawn around it. He was positive that it was Harry's. He crept silently over the stone floor.
Poking his wand through the white curtain, Sirius split them enough to get a good look at his Godson. The covers were drawn over his face, but a sprout of messy black hair protruded from the linen sheets. His boy was turning restlessly, as if in the throes of a nightmare. He'd give him a nightmare. "Petrificus!" He shouted triumphantly, hitting the boy square in the face. Pouncing towards the bed and throwing back the covers, he revealed a petrified tuft of black hair attached to several pillows. They had been charmed to turn restlessly, which meant no Boy who Lived. That was a bad sign.
Biting back a curse, Sirius kicked backwards viciously, only to have his leg be trapped. He spun his head around to see Harry crouched on the floor, one arm in a sling and his other keeping his Godfather's leg from escaping. Harry shoved upwards abruptly, propelling the older man forward onto the hospital bed. Sirius bounced and rolled off, eager to get out of his Godson's line of sight. He was, as usual, too slow.
"Petrificus." Harry said as Sirius disappeared over the other side of the bed. His Godfather landed with a thump and much cursing. Walking nonchalantly around the white linens, he found the man in a rather compromising position, balanced on his knees and his nose with his arse end sticking straight up. "You should know better than to attack an injured boy." He unfroze the man, then helped him up and repaired his bloody nose.
His Godfather was appropriately contrite. He was getting too old for this... "Damn. Someday I'm going to figure out how you do that..." He brought the boy in for a fierce hug, relishing the contact. Harry wasn't much of a hugger, usually, but being his Godfather had perks like that.
He released Harry, who took a step back and saluted. "It's good to see you again, Sir."
The morning was interesting. After first breakfast, Harry took Sirius on his morning workout. The man was in very good shape, but he was panting noticeably harder than Harry was at the end of it. He caught up on what was happening in his Godfather's life, which was practically nothing. Girls and paperwork. Apparently life was pretty dull without Harry there to spice it up.
During second breakfast, Snape excused himself from the table once he saw who Harry's guest was. "Sirius, I had a dream last night. I think it was a memory of the Chamber of Secrets. I think that girl was Ginny, as well. So this would be the second time she has been the hostage. That is rare. I have never had the same mission twice before now." He spoke in his signature monotone, but his Godfather could tell the subtle differences in his inflection.
"Rare indeed. And it would be the third time she was the hostage. We were all hostages, Harry. You saved us all from Voldemort. Never forget that. So what do you think of your little redheaded hostage?" He patted the boy on the head, mussing his hair up.
Harry stared at his food, unsure how to word his answer. "It's ... strange, Sir. When she makes eye contact with me my abdomen contracts rapidly, my heart rate increases even though there is no visible or perceived threat in the area. It almost feels like my body treats her as a threat. I have never had problems like this before; perhaps I am losing my edge. I have not been sleeping well recently, which might contribute to the effects, but I am positive that Miss Weasley has several strange effects on my person. I am unsure what exactly causes it, but I was hoping you had some experience in this matter."
Harry's got butterflies in his stomach, and he calls them rapid contractions of the abdomen. Oh this is rich! Sirius stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was more bark than laugh, but Harry knew when his Godfather was laughing at him better than anyone. He waited patiently for him to give much-needed advice. Sirius was a great informant; he was discreet, and knew the answer to almost every question Harry had ever asked.
I can't believe I'm about to have the talk with little Prongs... Oh James if you could only see me now! Putting on his best serious face, he leaned in close to the 6th year Gryffindor and whispered, "You see, Harry, you're getting to that age where you start thinking funny things about girls. It's like this. There are wands and there are holsters..."
Harry's face grew progressively blanker as his Godfather continued animatedly. This sounded intensely complicated. More importantly, what did wands and holsters have to do with contractions in his abdomen?
Ron, Hermione and Ginny came down together, as was their custom, and stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the man sitting next to Harry. Hushed whispering was breaking out in pockets around the Great Hall, first Harry Potter and now THE Sirius Black himself was at Hogwarts? They weren't used to celebrity; it was positively confusing to see such a high-profile personality.
Sirius was the immensely popular Auror in Charge of Executive Protection. It was a long title that meant whenever anyone important came into the country, he was the man in charge of making sure they made it OUT of the country safely. It was a very important job; he'd protected dignitaries like the Prime Minister and the President of the United States of America personally.
He had been the subject of many profiles and stories, his dramatic saves were widely known. One time he deflected a killing curse with a ladies pocket mirror, saving the life of a young legal attaché from Brazil. Then he tied up the would-be assassin with his own trousers and performed the second known case of trans-atlantic side-along apparition to personally check him into Azkaban. He was the closest thing to a real-life action hero that the Wizarding World had to offer, and he didn't even care. He only seemed to care about two things: his work and his Godson. Women never lasted more than a few months, but there was never a shortage of them waiting in line.
And here he was, sitting at the Gryffindor table like he had never left it, arm draped around the still-rigid shoulders of the Boy who Lived and whispering about who knows what. They looked up at the trio entering the Great Hall and a mischievous grin broke out on Sirius' face.
Ginny paled as the lean, muscular form of Sirius Black towered over her. He looked to be at least 9 feet tall; his smile was a strange mix of joy and cunning. His grey eyes were glinting happily, but it did little to ease her fears. "Ginny Weasley? Walk with me." It wasn't an order, it wasn't a request. It was simply a statement. She followed him meekly out of the Great Hall, feeling Harry's piercing gaze follow her until she was out of sight.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Sirius started talking. "My Godson is a strange boy, as I'm sure you've noticed. As such, there are some things you will need to know. First: it's best that you not assume he knows anything. For such a smart young man, he can be remarkably thick at times..." His voice trailed off as they turned the corner.
Harry didn't see Ginny again until Lunch. She collapsed onto the bench next to him, burying her still beet-red face in her hands. "What did my Godfather want to talk to you about?" He asked in his signature monotone after swallowing his current mouthful.
Ginny glared at him. He had that blank look in his eyes, like he was genuinely curious and had no clue at all. Yes. He really was that dense. She covered her face with her hands again and said in a muffled voice, "If you don't know, I'll never tell. Just eat."