Hogwarts One Half
Chapter Thirteen

by Lionheart

I O I O I

"Ah, Harry, can I speak with you a moment?" the kindly Headmaster asked, eyes a twinkling and a gentle smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster. I've got to run or I'll be late." The young boy disappeared at a trot not really thinking about the exchange other than it was inconvenient for his high priority trip out to Hagrid's cabin, where he'd been invited to tea daily so he could have a chance in relative privacy to access those memories showing his parents.

You couldn't exactly keep something like a pensieve in your dorm room.

Watching the boy link up with Aphrodite outside on the grounds and rush off to be greeted by Professor Malfoy at the door and ushered inside Hagrid's cottage where smiling girls would surround him, Albus Dumbledore stood with the light gone from out of his eyes and a wooden grin still frozen in place like a forgotten toy as he contemplated proof of over a decade of plotting having been dashed hopelessly to pieces before his very eyes.

He had not planned for things to be this way.

In fact, what he had planned some might view as reprehensible, but it was all for the greater good - or so he told himself. Dumbledore had spies on Harry, he knew how the boy had been treated and could have intervened at any time. The Dursleys had been a cruel family even before he'd dropped Harry on them, spitefully gossiping about neighbors and yelling at subordinates for meager satisfaction in their own superiority. Their ghastly child was the only human being either Vernon or Petunia treated with anything approaching kindness, and so they'd lavished all they had on him, spoiling him horribly until he turned into a beast very much like his parents were.

Arabella Figg would, in the mainline, even admit to Harry that she had to treat him in a way so he hated his visits to her, or else the Dursleys would never have let him come over.

So she knew about his treatment. You couldn't arrange not to know when you had openly admitted to planning how to maintain contact in spite of it, and as she was only there as a spy, Dumbledore had to know. Yet he did nothing about it when he had a chance to change things and give the boy a decent childhood.

A thousand things could have been done to protect Harry from them and improve his living situation, from charms and compulsion, through outright bribery, on to threats over the jail time they had done everything they could to earn in their treatment of him. It was not even out of the question to give a magical infusion of blood to another family, so Harry could've been raised by whomever they chose to select for that duty.

As Voldemort would acquire Lily's blood from Harry in the mainline. It followed then that if his greatest enemy could do so in a terrible, dark ritual when the protection was supposed to be based on love, then a more humane family could've gotten it through less extreme means, and then been fit to raise Harry under whatever protection the blood provided.

No, Dumbledore had known, and deliberately avoided any intervention for one purpose and one purpose alone, and that was this: A child who has grown up without love will seize upon the first display of affection and never truly let go. Harry would have been the perfect tool, willing to do anything the ancient Headmaster asked for a bit of that love he'd never felt from family or parents, or friends really, as they'd known the Dursleys had isolated the boy as much as was in their considerable power as his guardians. And with Dudley's knowing assistance bullying any child who might try to befriend the little orphan lad, they'd kept the boy quite alone. Dumbledore had even offered his assistance, keeping magic folk away.

While he had not exactly instructed the Dursleys to beat the boy, Albus had allowed it gladly, knowing that when the boy came to Hogwarts he could own the childhood hero as surely and completely as if under the Imperius, just by showing him a little tender affection.

Now a dream of the Headmaster's was dashed to countless pieces, as the child raced out joyfully across the lawn to meet Professor Malfoy, all a-smiles as she gave him a hug and let him into Hagrid's cottage.

He had to shake his head at the success of her scheme. By keeping the Headmaster busy protecting his Potions Master those initial few days, Nodoka had gotten to the Boy Who Lived ahead of him, and now she would take the place of mother in his heart just the same as the Headmaster had plotted to be grandfather. It was galling how many years of plotting that unraveled, and what it cost Albus in other potential schemes. As Minister Fudge well knew, as EVERYONE in magical society knew, except perhaps poor Harry himself, he was the symbol of freedom and victory in magical Britain, a priceless icon with incalculable effect upon the mind and heart of their culture.

Now Albus Dumbledore would not be the one who wielded that tool.

He had thought to counter the many attacks upon his person by a quick appeal to Harry's good nature, allying with the boy to use his reputation and influence to bolster his own in the eyes of the magical public. Even under such deadly attacks as Albus was, that would have countered most of them, and the remainder he could have laid to rest with a few well chosen words, an understanding tone, or a gentle admonishment or touch of advice here or there.

Now, instead, that powerful influence was bonding with the one person who more than any other had dealt those attacks. And it could be used to reinforce them. That most excellent weapon he had labored so hard to create was not to be his, and could be used against him.

Albus Dumbledore stood gazing woodenly at that cottage with a dead smile upon his face for a very long while.

I O I O I

"Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter!"

"Yes, he is." Nodoka confirmed, standing next to the boy after a brief shopping trip to get him a set of expensive and flattering dress robes. "Now could you please confirm our appointment?"

"Yes, Your Grace, I have your appointment here." The clerk looked down at his book. "Two o'clock in the Department of Mysteries. If you'll just take that elevator, someone will meet you at the bottom."

Giving the man a nod, the duchess swept past him, holding Harry by the hand as she led him to the nearest elevator, which they occupied alone. The magic folk in the lobby had been too busy staring at the duo to join them in the lift. She had taken care to get him a set of robes that matched in theme and styling her clothes enough for them to look related.

"Is it really true?" Harry asked his escort innocently. "That I have a prophecy about me and everything?"

"So my brother boasted. As he was defending Snape to me in our latest disagreement he said that man was key in revealing to Voldemort a prophecy made about you just before you were born. Naturally I made inquiries, and there is a copy stored here just awaiting you to claim it."

The boy stirred in excitement. "What do you think it says?"

Looking down at him, the duchess met his eyes with an expression of motherly concern that warmed the cockles of the eleven-year-old's heart even as he got the warning interpreted correctly and quieted down. "Harry, I don't know. But it may be something awful, because immediately upon hearing it Voldemort put aside other priorities, and as soon as he could launched an attack upon your parents."

Somber now, the duo stepped off of the lift as it reached the bottom. There a man in a garish purple and brown robe led them to the Department of Mysteries. It seemed they were in and out in moments, after Harry took the prophecy down and they listened to it in a private chamber that Nodoka double checked was secure.

"So, I've got to kill him, or he'll kill me." Harry summarized, having remained silent until they had reached Hogsmead and were heading back to the castle. "But that's alright, isn't it? I mean, he's already dead. That's what everyone was saying about where I got this scar from. So it's okay and I'm safe, right?" He turned eyes filled with desperate cheerfulness and willingness to believe upon the woman. "Right?"

Her eyes as she met his were pained. She knelt to grasp him by the shoulders and meet his gaze on an equal level. "Harry, I am so sorry. All of your life you've been lied to, and all that I can offer to make that better is a promise not to ever deny you truth when you need it. You have my word that I'll never lie to you, and the only secrets I shall keep are to protect my family from danger or those I honestly don't feel you are ready to know when you ask me. But I shall tell you when I cannot tell you something, not give you a pleasant falsehood. And the answer, Harry, to your question is that I believe you are still in very real danger."

Somber now, the Boy Who Lived still found a smile and enough courage to joke about his situation. "So, I could ask you about the birds and the bees then?"

"And you'll find that I've a very dirty mind and am willing to embarrass you terribly with more than you'd ever wanted to know," she agreed reasonably. "But it boils down to something I can illustrate with a simple comparison. You've had your first Potions class by now. Babies are made from two ingredients, one that boys create inside their bodies, and one that girls create in theirs. The girl has a soft cauldron tucked inside her tummy, the boy has a rod that hangs outside of a corresponding place. You stir the cauldron with the rod, the ingredients mix and a baby is made. Sometimes a couple will have to try that process several times, sometimes it works on the first attempt. Now if you ask me any more on that subject right now I'm afraid that I shall have to employ pictures and scar you for life."

Harry blushed quite red, his bluff called. "No, that's quite alright."

Acting on inspiration, Nodoka turned them about and began leading Harry back to the magical village they'd only just departed. "Come, you need someone to talk to about this Voldemort matter. Let's pick up a few pints of ice cream and bags of sweets and you and I can discuss it on the lawn."

So they did, and once they were settled with their treats out far away from any inquisitive ears with multiple wards and protection spells up, Nodoka once again turned to that subject. "Harry, what I am going to tell you will not be pleasant to hear, but I need you to be brave. Okay?" Upon receiving his now, she continued. "Voldemort is not dead. I have been able to pry bits and pieces of information free of those who have been tracking this, and he is alive, just reduced to a wraith without a body. So he is very nearly helpless right now, but he won't always remain so. There are several ways for him to return to a physical form once again, and if he does he will go back to doing all the horrible things he'd done before. And while he remains a wraith, I don't know of a good way to hurt him, except by doing hurt to those tools he's going to want when he returns."

"Oh," Harry's face was flickering back and forth between emotions before it settled upon determination. "So I've got to be ready to beat him when he returns, right? I mean, it's him or me, right?"

The woman smiled brilliantly. "Yes, Harry. According to the prophecy either you must die or he must, and one of you is going to do the other in. But nothing was ever said about you doing it all alone. Voldemort has his followers, and you should also be surrounded by your own friends and allies. That should make it a great deal easier. But I am concerned about this 'mark him as his equal' part. Do you mind if I cast a few charms on you to see if my theory is correct?"

Upon receiving his permission, the redhaired woman made some very complicated wand passes over, around, and to the sides of the boy, whispering spells quietly in an almost continuous stream. The more she did so, the more angry she became. Then she stopped and turned a sweet smile upon the boy. "Harry, just so you know, I have no anger towards you. But someone has done something terrible to you. What would you think of a person that deliberately broke a baby's spine?"

"I'd think they were evil. Why? Is that what Voldemort did to me?" Harry asked in some concern.

"No, dear. Let's see, how do I best explain this?" Nodoka touched her wand to her lip and blinked for a moment, deep in thought. "Aha! I know. It's very simple actually. You know the pensieve that I gave you for your birthday, a trifle late I am sorry to say? Well, all sorts of things can be stored magically, not just memories. You've seen those paintings that act like real people? Those are personality fragments copied into paints. But that's getting rather far afield. What I meant to be saying is that when Voldemort tried to kill you, he made you his equal."

"That's where I get my scar from, right?" Harry touched his forehead.

"Yes, dear, but you should have gotten a great deal more than a scar. Voldemort made you his EQUAL. A tiny, one year old baby, who was supposed to be equivalent in power to a Dark Lord with fifty years of training and experience. That wasn't just a cut, Harry, but a... well, like a vaccination scar. It was the only outward remaining sign of something very deep, far within you. When Voldemort tried to kill you he accidentally gave you a copy of all of his powers, skills, and experiences. You ought to have been a fully trained wizard by your second birthday as you assimilated those. By now you truly ought to have been a mighty wizard fully the equal of Voldemort at his height."

"But, why aren't I? I mean, I only just discovered magic." Harry was puzzled.

Now Nodoka looked sad. "Yes Harry, you ought to be, but aren't. Someone placed blocks upon you. No one else but Dumbledore could have or would have done so. I'm certain it was one of his moments of well meaning stupidity, thinking to give you a normal childhood or a nonmagical upbringing so your power or your fame wouldn't get to your head. But also he might have feared that you would have become like Voldemort, powerful and cruel. But if he feared that, he should never have left you with those appalling relatives who gave you so many reasons to be angry or afraid - seeds of going dark in any of us."

Placing her hands on his shoulders, looking down her straight arms, she met him in the eyes and said, "Harry, only one person in all of the world had both the power and the opportunity to place those blocks upon you, and that is Dumbledore. He might've felt he had reasons for doing this to you, but nothing gave him the right. He denied you the ability to defend yourself from those horrible bullies growing up, and his work is still stunting you now." She drew a deep breath. "Harry, among magic people placing blocks and power limiters, upon children especially, is among the worst crimes that we have. It is a horrible, evil deed that compares to breaking someone's spine and leaving them a cripple. Nothing excuses or forgives doing it deliberately to someone, and in this case it cannot be accidental."

"Oh." The boy wasn't sure how to respond to that, especially at the anger he felt Nodoka had, directed toward Dumbledore for doing this to him. Having someone upset on his behalf was still a new experience for him, and he began to think that this was what it felt like to have a mother at last. Someone to protect and care about him.

"Did it really do anything to help?" The young boy asked, always willing to consider good motives for those around him, if they felt at all deserving.

"No, Harry. I don't think so. I've become an expert on Voldemort's personality, and you have no trace of that within you. Nor would you, even if those blocks had never been there. I can see past them, they're cracked already, and for me this is like looking into an aquarium. The glass holds water back like those blocks hold your granted magic - and a bit of your own native supply if I'm not mistaken. But there is nothing of Voldemort's evil within you, and if you'd had magical, understanding parents growing up they could have taught you the right way to use all of your powers just as ordinary parents teach children how to act in a responsible manner with less fantastic powers like walking or talking. There could have been accidents... what am I saying? There would have been mistakes and incidents, and they probably would have had to scold you gently once or twice about not transfiguring your little sister or apparating into places you shouldn't be or something, but they all could have been dealt with and you wouldn't be any more evil or horrible than you are today. I have faith in you, Harry, and you have a very kind heart. Not even the worst upbringing destroyed that, I don't think this could have stood a chance."

"So, can you do anything about it?" Harry asked after a moment of basking in her caring.

"Of course, Harry. But it's up to you to decide if you want me to remove those blocks here, or if you'd rather go down to the Ministry to press charges upon the man who placed them so they can examine them before they are removed. Now I've done a bit of checking, his wand signature is all over them."

I O I O I

While Nodoka was shattering Dumbledore's well-laid plans like Akane Tendo broke bricks, Ranko was arriving in a cottage on the edge of Hogsmead on her second Time Turner day that week, wearing an octopus on her head like an unfashionable hat.

Opening the back door in the early light of dawn, an invisible redhaired girl and her hat darted quickly in, potions already in hand, uncorked and swigging even as the door closed.

This was Nabiki's day, her Thursday, the time she lived for (inasmuch as she still felt she had a reason to go on living). Her eyes watered with tears even before the change had fully began, just knowing that she'd drunk the potion and it was about to happen was enough to get her crying, and she stared, blinking only occasionally, as she watched herself turn from a delicious morsel of seafood into a real, human girl.

"Ah, Nabiki. Could you get off? You're still sitting on my head." The boy Ranma mumbled below her, face down in the carpet.

Standing up, the middle Tendo still could not take her eyes off herself for long moments, then, like Kasumi, she dashed to her bedroom and began to relive the pleasures of having hands, using tools, taking a bath (rushed, as soaking was just less of a pleasure now that she spent half of her time as calamari), then wearing CLOTHES!

It was beyond description to the girl to be able to feel proper attire on her body at last, to at long last rejoin the human race again. Also, once she got started and over her first few moments of silence she just couldn't stop talking, at first singing quietly to herself songs that her mother used to sing, then babbling for the pleasure of hearing her own voice again.

"Ranma, you said twelve hours! Did you mean it?" She glomped him in the kitchen, jumping out of nowhere to wrap all arms and legs around him, allowing a rare pause for him to answer.

"Yes." He gave her a smile as he continued stirring their meal (no seafood, he didn't think she could handle it). His routine for these days was pretty similar no matter which girl he was paired with, except that each inherently made the whole thing, even with the same routine, very different.

"That's wonderful!" Nabiki grabbed his lips in a long, deep, heartfelt kiss because she could and an octopus couldn't.

Okay, some things were the same.

Luckily, he had avoided eating any seafood himself over the past two days, in order to be sensitive to this sort of moment. The LAST thing she'd want was a reminder of her curse on his breath during what was to be a happy time.

They'd have several meals together, go out on the town together, do shopping, buy loads of packages (this was Nabiki here, spending someone else's money was both a pleasure and reminder of better days) and generally have fun confusing the town matrons about which delightful young girl that boy was married to.

Then, for the crowning event, Ranma stopped by at a specialty shop to get a bouncing, excited Nabiki a magical painting of herself that they would hang in the stables. Because it had a personality fragment of her in those paints it stood a better chance than anyone of interpreting her gestures when she was in cursed form, and could talk for her.

But also she'd have an image of herself to look on and be reminded of who she was by gazing on it and hearing her voice coming out of it. Ranma had judged correctly that having a bit of herself unaffected by the curse was something utterly priceless to the girl.

Nabiki was Delighted! And showed him so in how she hung off of him, played, laughed and bounced around him, talking all of the while to the confusion of the elderly matrons.

Surely he had to be married to one of them, but which one was it? Maybe he was twins? Or perhaps a cad? Was he two-timing them? One elderly flower seller even got up the gumption to approach the pair and delicately mention that she'd thought she'd seem him there before with another girl, only to have Nabiki agree instantly, unconcerned, and go on conversing with Ranma about whatever topic came to mind.

The flower seller even reported to her friends that she'd thought, could've sworn even, that the one girl had held him tighter, glittering with adoring love, when she'd brought up the other.

Most confusing.

But puzzled townsfolk were not the only ones observing this day out on the town between Ranma and the Tendo daughter, though the eyes that watched from beneath an invisibility cloak were far more well informed than the confused matrons.

Her ninja elf Sasuke by her side, delicately trying to master his magics to hold an umbrella stable over her head and not tip rain on her, Kodachi stood watching Ranma as he gave succor and comfort to the sister of one of her former rivals, and smiled, seeing herself in her place if ever Kodachi herself fell to life's many misfortunes and had the need for the genuine love and gentleness streaming out of his treatment of that girl.

She had found a good man to fall in love with after all.

Soon the day was done, and Nabiki was crying in the small cottage as she knew her final few minutes were almost up, when Kodachi, now visible, stepped around a corner with a smile upon her face and a cup on a tray in her hands. Smiling visibly, the noblewoman demurely offered comfort with the words, "Miss Tendo, pray accept this. The polyjuice is not our mother-in-law's special recipe, and the hair I used my own. But for another hour I beg you to receive this gift and remain human just that much longer."

Nabiki tearfully accepted and drank, tears drying as she dragged Ranma off to another few hasty adventures, not even noticing or caring as he reverted to a she as they ran to another part of the house where they could jump on beds and giggle, having pillow or tickle fights.

But a smiling Kodachi had noticed Ranma's look of adoring gratitude that she had saved him from Nabiki's tears over the unrelenting advance of the unmerciful clock. And, having already cheated it the once for an extra hour, Nabiki felt it far less pitiless and remorseless as it ticked onwards past this tiny break. She'd beaten it once, so the girl could far more easily accept her state as this second dose of potion ran out.

Happiness was what Ranma brought her, and now Kodachi had returned that to him in a useful way that he would always remember. She'd found early on he did not tend to forget favors done to him. And yet, she'd found her own pain at loss eased ever so slightly by doing a good deed for that octopus girl.

Standing at a doorway, looking out into the darkness, the noble girl from Japan thought about her situation. She looked to have well and truly escaped her deranged brother, and found one she was far more happy with. The love of a man she could never obtain in her homeland was now hers, and she knew she could count on it. Sasuke had transformed, yet was serving with greater distinction than ever, having told her of these outings her beloved took and the apparent purpose behind them.

Considering it from many angles, listening to the laughter of those two as they played like little children together, Kodachi discovered she was actually happy, and loved that thought as it felt like the final victory over the family of her upbringing.

Frankly now, ruminating on the added historical knowledge she found many comparisons between her situation and something that occurred (and directly led to) the fall of the Roman Empire. One tribe of barbarians out in the far east had grown so powerful they'd begun displacing the tribes around them, and those tribes had to go somewhere or die, so they'd carved out their own spaces, with some of those spilling out over Europe. Rome was tough, even in their decline they were a mighty foe. So those barbarian tribes had to pull out some stops to beat them, but they did beat them, sack Rome, and take over Europe.

While she did not like to think of herself as a barbarian, they had gotten displaced out of their eastern homes by what could be called a stronger tribe. Coming here to Europe they had openly attacked some of the established power structure (Voldemort's really, but some of the others had gotten caught in that blast), and were carving out a place for themselves.

But there was always that looming threat of the stronger tribe that had displaced them coming along later. They had already lost to them before, nor was she anxious for a repeat.

Kodachi did not fear Voldemort, she knew they could beat him. What she did not know was if they could defend themselves enough to survive the inevitable attack if their enemies from Nerima should, at last, find them. Worst of all possibilities was to be caught between them, being forced to fight both simultaneously. But such thoughts fled her mind an hour later as Ranko emerged from the bedroom, feathers still flying from broken pillows and dust on her face from one of her running and chasing games punching holes in the plaster, wearing an octopus on her head like an unfashionable hat and a mighty huge grin on her face.

Kodachi was about to say something, instead however she got kissed into a gelatinous but happy goo by Ranma in his cursed form, then hugged back together again by a delicious, traditional dish of eight armed protein.

"Thanks, Dachi. You made the evening a lot better for Nabiki-chan." Ranko tucked a paper wrapped magical painting under her arm while still directing a brilliant smile upon the girl.

"Anything I can do to help, I will do, my Ranma-sama."

The duo, plus their squidy accessory, talked all of the way back to Hogwarts, a hole torn in the wrapping paper letting the Nabiki portrait within peek out and interpret for her live, yet cursed, double and causing the mollusk to change to a very happy color. A ninja trained house elf unobtrusively caused a tarp to float over the couple on their way back, holding off the rain.

Because the worst of the Tendo girls' problems were that they were bored, Kodachi even made a suggestion about sharing class material with them, and so Ranko introduced her to the recording earrings she wore, whilst sharing their information between Nabiki and Kasumi. Even though Cologne had said the Tendo family was not magical, it gave them something to think on during their days.

And for that distraction allowing them to partially forget their state those two cursed girls were very grateful, as it made them feel less like animals to be learning, even if they couldn't also be doing.

I O I O I

"Knock, knock." came from the thousandth time from the neighboring cell.

"Who's there?" came a reasonable approximation of Snape's voice through that same wall.

"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Snape's actual voice tore free of his throat as he grasped the bars of his cell and began to bang his skull upon them, raising bloody bruises on his pale forehead as he tried to knock himself out against the steel poles. Anything to block out that annoying voice that had not stopped in days, not even for sleep.

"Okay, I'm game. No who?" Sirius Black's voice came laughing back.

The jingling of keys interrupted their 'conversation' and a desperate hope lit up in Severus Snape's eyes as he watched a pair of guards approaching. He presumed from their frowns that Dumbledore at last had succeeded in rescuing him from this hell.

But, to his flabbergasted horror, they stopped a cell short and began to unlock Black's door, not his. "You there," he commanded, desperately clinging white-knuckled to his bars. "That's the wrong cell. Black is in there. I'm over here. Dumbledore won't like it if you free the wrong person, now will he?"

That actually brought a grin to the guards' faces, and one of them even chuckled. "Now ain't that just too bad? But don't you worry none, 'Snivellus'. You won't have to wait on that old guy long. At the rate things are going he'll be in here with you in a few days."

"What do you mean?" The Potion Master's face, if it was possible, got even paler.

"The Boy-Who-Lived just dropped by the Ministry of Magic to get some blocks and power limiters removed. Guess who placed 'em? Yup. Looks like Albus Dumbledore doesn't believe in Law and Order. All sorts of things are coming to light where he just did what he felt like doing. But putting blocks on the Boy Who Lived and then sticking him with those filthy muggles down in C Block, who'd abused him... well, that was just about the final straw. Harry Potter won't press formal charges - yet, he just wanted the evidence collected before he had those blocks removed. But we know what happened, and who did it. Now it just might have happened that a few folks outside of magical law enforcement could have overheard us talking about it amongst ourselves. And old Jess thinks those folks may have been reporters. Sneaky devils, reporters; manage to find out all sorts of things they should not ordinarily know. Can't imagine how they'd done it."

"Yes," continued the other guard. "Now naturally when esteemed members of the press go and ask the Head of Magical Law Enforcement direct questions proving they already know things about sensitive issues she has to do something to make sure they don't go on with wild rumors and alarm the Great British Public. So she has to confirm or deny. And what did she say Al?"

"Well, I believe it was something to the order of 'Yes, we have conclusive evidence that Mister Albus Dumbledore placed extensive power blocks and limiters on Harry Potter, also known among us as The Boy Who Lived. Our forensics show that Mr Dumbledore was committing this heinous and evil act when the rest of our world was celebrating You-Know-Who's demise, and before placing our hero with a family known to hate our kind and against warnings of their abusive and criminal behavior. But the orphan Mister Potter has not yet come to any conclusions about pressing charges.' Something like that. Very posh, it was. Press ate it up. I imagine they'll print it full. Then we can have a copy. I'll paste it over the door of his cell when he gets in here, that I will."

"Old Ted and a couple of the boys are already downstairs getting a cell all nice and ready for him, painting his name on the door and everything. Awful nice of them to make him feel at home and all that. They're real sweet boys."

"Good cell, that one, too. Right on what we call here 'Dementor Boulevard'. Never can see the light of day from down there. Course the Head Jailer ain't forgotten you, Mister Snape. No, he hasn't. And he has a warm spot deep inside him where he don't want nobody to be lonely. So I've got fifty galleons I'm trying to wager he'll move you down there to be right next to your old pal. Pity nobody's willing to bet against me, not even at ten to one."

"It's better now than it once was. You see, so many Death Eaters took up residence that you couldn't hear yourself think for all the screaming. Before then it wasn't so bad, and now it seems awful quiet what with so many of your kind having taken up the Ministry's kind offer of an easy way out if they'd just help Miss Malfoy with her history."

"Her ladyship, you mean. Gone and gotten herself a title, she has."

"You're right, I'd forgotten. Anyway, her ladyship really cleaned it out, so you'll have no trouble at all down there. Smells alot better too, less rot in the air for one. Course that just brings in the scent from the sewers more, but you get to like it, really you do."

Snape's face was slack and fearful, as he muttered in a stunned voice, "Is there any chance either of you gentlemen could be persuaded to lend me a knife just long enough to open my wrists? I have extensive accounts in Gringotts I'd be willing to sign over in exchange for this kind act of charity."

"Kindness, eh?" The guards sneered at him, and one savagely turned the key to Sirius Black's cell they'd been neglecting in the lock all of this time they'd been talking. "Well ain't that the trick, the 'Horror of Hogwarts' is asking for kindness. Sorry, but we here are in what's called the 'Justice' business, and that means getting back what you'd gone and given to others, ain't it Rog?"

"Aye, Al, that it does. And I ain't recalling a single account of kindness from this here bastard, can you Al?"

"No, all I can seem to think of is me son in tears, coming home every year with tales of harsh words and cruelty, getting his dreams smashed and all that. So no, I ain't heard once of this nasty snake being the least bit kind to anyone."

"Ain't that the truth. Why, I've got cousins and a daughter that told me the same thing. No, I see no call for kindness here. Enjoy your stay, Mister Snape. There's hope it'll be a long one. But we'll make it nice for ya, really we will. Why, we'll get you your very own Dementor to be with you always. Ain't that just swell?"

"Then what are you doing with Black, the Traitor?" Snape asked curiously, controlling his fear for the moment, though he'd be quivering in a corner of his cell soon after they'd gone.

Both guards smiled. Al spoke cheerfully, "You know, now I feel a whole load better about letting him go like this. If you don't like him, maybe he is a good lad tossed in here unjustly like some are beginning to say he is. Anyway, we're taking him to the Ministry holding cells. He's to have a trial in the morning, due to some folks spotting the man he was supposed to have killed alive and well, all sorts of places."

As the big, steel door opened, Sirius was revealed in his cell unrumpled and unconcerned, sprawled about as if he lay on padded cushions instead of hard stone. He was even smiling. "Are you sure I have to go? Snivellus and I were having a wonderful conversation. I hadn't had this much fun in years."

Both guards shuddered involuntarily. Sirius was a legend in Azkaban prison. Nothing upset him, nothing affected him. They'd had him on Dementor Boulevard 'til he'd started creeping the guards out by being too cheerful all of the time, even surrounded by the dark creatures on all sides he'd be cracking jokes and smiling, offering to play cards if someone would lend him a deck. It had freaked out the warden so much they'd sent him up to solitary, where he was the only one on this level. And even that didn't appear to affect his perpetually high spirits. There were whispers about his magic being so strong nothing they did could really hurt him. His hair stayed looking right and clothes neat in spite of the filthy conditions as a sort of proof of his being greater than any other wizard they'd thrown in here.

The guards were frankly scared of him.

"Come along Mister Black, you're due to have a trial in the morning," Rog motioned the playful figure out. "And on behalf of the boys, if you really are innocent I'd like to say we're sorry about this and hope that you won't hold it against us."

"Not at all, my dear fellow." Sirius sprang out with a youthful bound, clasping the guard's hand and shaking it. "I couldn't imagine holding it against you for doing your job. Nothing to forgive. Why, if it's anyone's fault it's Dumbledore's for not using his influence to get me a trial when the previous Minister just wanted to slap me in here. But it appears that he was too busy performing deviltry against poor Harry. I only hope he has not permanently harmed my godson."

Al was in tears at this unexpected, even cheerful forgiveness. "Sir, if you've got that much good in you all I can say is I'm sorry, so sorry for me and the boys treating you like you was this bastard over here in the next cell."

"Think nothing of it." Sirius gave him an airy wave. "You acted as best you could with what you thought at the time. For my part, I'm sorry to say that I pranked you so many times. Well, so it's off to the Ministry with us? Goodbye, Snivellus, I know you'll be happy here."

The guards shuddered at that reminder. Black had played dead so many times, done weird pranks using only his meager meals, and popped some of the sickest and off the wall jokes in strange and imaginative ways that dealing with him was almost worse than the Dementors - at least with them you had an advantage. They were predictable.

Before they all walked off Rog looked at his hand and screamed in horror over what Sirius had left there, while the prankster broke up laughing on the floor. Al shuddered as he held his wand on the man, afraid and afraid to admit that he was afraid.

I O I O I

Author's Notes:

Sirius Black is just a FUN character to play with, you know that?

And yes, I know that isn't how he acted in the books. An explanation for that is even coming up. I like to think that it's even a good one.