Warnings: No additional warnings.

Beta-reader: Gift of the Dragons

"Abc!" - spoken words

Abc! - thoughts or emphasis

Recap Chapters 1-7.1:

The Elric brothers split up on their quest for information on how to regain their bodies. Following leads, Edward first arrived at Hogsmeade and later at Hogwarts. There, Edward passed Dumbledore's 'trial' and was allowed to meet up with Eve, the Flamel's former house-elf on a remote island in Devon. While Ed could confirm that the Sorcerer's Stone is made of magical energy only, he needs to create a wand that might work for him. Because of that, he took on an apprenticeship in wandlore at Ollivander's and is stuck to live with Sirius.

Chapter 7.2: Barking Dogs Never Bite?! part two (words: 12805)

It wasn't that long after Elric had moved in and they had settled into a routine that Sirius found himself feeling down, alone and bored even though he practically had a flatmate. The teen was spending most of his time being an attentive apprentice for Ollivander and the rest reading and memorizing the stuff he'd been told while with the wandmaker. He dutifully dotted down everything into one of his small, black notebooks and spent hours upon hours sitting at the kitchen table, only stopping for dinner or if he was asked a question.

Sirius had thus made a point of having at least one question ready by the time the teen came home. It was a harder task than he had thought it to be at the beginning and by now, it had evolved into a full-out challenge.

The first few times he had started with standard small-talk: "How are you today?" "How's the weather outside?" "A lot of people about today?" Stuff like that. But small-talk, it seemed, was too small for one Edward Elric. He had answered, of course, but very few of those questions had managed to actually capture his attention for more than five minutes. Then, deciding that he had humoured his host to an acceptable amount, he usually excused himself to go upstairs and learn.

Somehow, Sirius got the impression that he was being avoided. Just one question towards anything that could remotely have to do with the boy's past and the subject would be changed nearly instantly.

As a compromise, Sirius had then proceeded to ask questions that were a little bit more work-related: "Anything interesting you learned today?" "Any customer that managed to bust the destruction record?"

Because it seemed Elric had started to categorize the damage that a wand would do when involuntarily being paired up with a wizard it absolutely didn't want to serve. As far as Sirius had understood, he thought that it was not only important to know which wand chose the wizard in question, but also which didn't and how strongly they objected.

The current holder of the longest conversation, which had lasted a half hour, was about which wand had caused the most destruction: a poor eleven year old that had not wanted to wait for Mister Ollivander to return with her next wand, had instead walked over to a shelf and picked up one herself. Instead of just levitating an object in the room and hurling it to the wall or letting loose one or multiple smaller explosions, this wand used a different defensive-mechanism altogether.

Upon being woven through the air by the overly excited girl, it had cast a very powerful version of Aguamenti and drenched not only the girl, but her parents, shopping bags and owl as well. As these things go, the father let go of the bird cage in his surprise. Dropped to the ground, the cage's door sprang wide open, making way for a very angry, very wet and very nimble barn owl that had no intention of getting back to his new owners at all. Apparently, chaos ensued.

As funny as the images Elric had put in his mind had been, though, today Sirius was determined to get an interaction that lasted even longer. So when the other entered the kitchen this evening to greet him, he cut to the chase as soon as the teen had taken a seat.

"From what I understand," he started and indeed managed to keep Elric's attention centered on himself, "you learn wandlore so that you can create your own perfect match." A nod. "But this is hard since usually it's precisely the other way 'round and the opposite has never been done before."

"Yeah," came the slightly exasperated reply, "but just because it's never been done before doesn't mean it's actually impossible." They'd had this conversation before.

"And you have to do this because the wands don't show any reaction towards you," Sirius prodded on. Elric, as last time they'd had this conversation, tensed and narrowed his eyes slightly, but nodded. "So I was wondering ... If the wands don't show a reaction towards you, once you have created your wand, how will you know that it is indeed your perfect match? It's unlikely that it would show you somehow, no?"

Surprise briefly flashed through the pair of unusual eyes across the table before it came back and settled there. "I … ," Elric started, then stopped again to consider the question thoroughly. "I guess I won't know at first." He shrugged. "I do doubt it would show me, indeed, but if I'm able to cast a spell with it, then it should be clear that it's at least a match, if not a perfect one."

"So how about you practice on others before going on to forge your own?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Sirius said an leaned back a little further in his chair, "how about you try to get to know a wizard and then apply your character-meets-wand-ingredients-theories on them to create a specifically made wand. As far as I understand, Ollivander is usually doing the same when choosing the wands his customers ought to try – he just doesn't know them well enough to judge better. However, if you managed, the sparks would tell you if you were right on first try. Or the explosion, if you were not," he added grinning all the way.

"I must admit that this does make sense. However, there is a problem there." Elric paused a moment and slightly tipped his head to the side. "It may be hard to get to know someone to that extent since I've been told to not be a very social person."

That ... has to be the understatement of the year.

"You could always give it a shot," Sirius tried coaxingly.

"I guess I could. But then again, I don't know any wizard who doesn't have their perfect match yet. As far as I understand most don't do with anything less than perfect," the teen snorted.

That's my cue.

"I don't."

Elric blinked. "You ... don't ...," he said but otherwise remained unresponsive.

"Yes, I don't. I'm currently using a family heirloom to make due and since a new wand does cost quite a bit and since this one's not that bad of a match ... Well, yeah."

Scratch the former being the understatement of the year. This one right now was. This. Wand. Is. Rubbish.

The teen took a moment to roll this new found information through his head. "Hm. So please correct me if I'm wrong, but... what you are basically saying is: 'My wand is bullshit, please help me get a better one. And while we are at it, I've had enough of you not spending an appropriate amount of time with me beyond living under the same roof.' That correct?"

It was probably for the best that Elric's smirk was completely good-natured and that the amusement in his voice was clearly audible. And the sheepishness. Sirius smirked right back, before donning a totally innocent expression. "I was basically saying that killing two birds with one stone has never been a bad idea."

At that, Elric chuckled and the matter was settled.

Sirius had decided that they would play chess to get to know each other better. It was the best idea he had had and really, why not? The way a person played the game said something about their character – if they were passive or active, defensive or aggressive, straight forward in their decisions or turning everything over and over again in their heads before moving their next figure. And, when faced with defeat, if they were a good loser or not.

Additionally, it gave the perfect opportunity to chat. If there was nothing an opponent had to say to the other in personal terms, or simply didn't want to share such information, then they could always feign thinking about the constellation on the board. Last but not least, every wizard knew the game, had played it at least once in his life and, usually, found great delight in doing so. Really, it was the perfect opportunity to find out more ab-

"Somehow this looks quite different from what I'm used to," Elric said in slight amazement as he watched the chess pieces move to their individual places on their own. One arm propping up his head, he observed the hustle and bustle on the table in front of him. With the other, he gently placed one glass of freshly poured water in front of his opponent.

"Thank you," Sirius replied absent-mindedly as he waited for the last of the pieces to finally get out of the box. "I guess this means that you've only ever played with the Muggle version before? You seem to be very low on actual wizard supplies in that village you come from. There is no need to worry, though," he added, smiling up to him reassuringly, "the rules are the very same. This version is just more ... excitable." He grinned. "Which colour do you want to choose?"

At once the chess pieces started shouting, demanding he take theirs. It was impossible to make out the exact words they were saying, let alone the meaning behind whole sentences, but the general idea was clear enough. Sirius leaned back, enjoying the warm glow of familiarity that settled in his chest. His first game of chess in over a decade. Oh, just how ready he was for it.

Bring it on! he thought, eyes gleaming in childish delight and focussing in on his opponent for the night.

On his side of the table, Elric didn't seem as enthusiastic. He frowned down on the flock of miniature people and opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before finally snapping out of it.

"These are merely enchanted objects, right? Not actual shrunken people?" he asked a little sceptically.

"Of course."

"Good!" Relief washed over his face and he relaxed instantly. "Then I want the black ones," he decided, smiling down at his group of cheering subordinates. "Black is cooler. I don't really like white. White is a little ... creepy." As strange of a choice of word it was, it was enough to rile up Sirius' side of the board. Shouts of 'Don't worry, boss, we'll bring him down for sure!' filled the air, mixed up with 'We'll crush them!' and the occasionally muttered 'You better bet I'm creepy! I'll creep the hell out of you!' as well.

As soon as Sirius gave the first command, though, the whole board fell silent again. It became apparent pretty soon that the stakes were quite unmatched. Sirius may not have played chess in a very long time, but many late hours spent in the Gryffindor common room whilst procrastinating this or that assignment had included wizard chess.

His opponent, however, seemed to have no experience whatsoever. Elric had most of the regular movements down, but more than once his pawns or knights had to remind him that no, they couldn't move to that spot. His reaction to and acceptance of the uniqueness of wizard chess, however, didn't disappoint in the slightest. After his initial exclamation ("That's dumb! If he saw the other approach, weapon held high, and if he can move, why didn't he even try to defend himself?") he took great pleasure in watching the movements, even going so far as give an advise or two to his men on how to knock the enemies out in more efficient ways. In return, the black pieces tried their best to stay on the board as long as possible by telling him where to move them and where not.

In the end, though, none of that helped.

I've spent too much time wishing I could at least play another game of chess. No way I'm letting a rookie like him win.

It was still fun, though.

Around halfway through the fifth match one of Sirius' bishops decided their side had been dominating the game for the longest time and that it was right now that he wanted to rub it into the face of the black pawn right in front of it. Elric, who had become strangely attached and protective of his men and woman, leaned forward in his chair. The bishop, though, didn't even realize and continued to rant on without a care in the world. Once he did realize the impending doom, though, it was already too late and the thumb was pressing down mercilessly on top of him.

"If I was a small as you," Elric started in a low, malicious voice, "I would be watching who I was insulting and what kind of friends they have." His smile was bordering feral.

The bishop, once again, didn't get the hint and flared up. "Who are you calling so small, even a plankton could crush them below its pinky?" Small white fists tried to punch the offending finger still pressing down on it without having any success. The indignant shouting continued. "Not everyone can be as freakishly tall as you, okay!"

And even if Sirius hadn't thought this to be amusing, then Elric succumbing to a five minute long fit of laughter on the kitchen floor certainly had.

After that, his own king seemed forgotten for the rest of the evening, sitting alone and lonely on his white throne in one or another corner of the board. As the whole of the black side gave chase for the one offending bishop and Sirius defended him with the combined forces of his white fellows, he realized some important things about Elric.

He was terrifyingly focussed and sharp when he thought the situation called for it.

To Elric, one of the situations that 'called for it' were when things got personal.

The boy brought 'holding a grudge' to a complete new level. He had never seen anyone else chase a single chess figure for more than two hours. Not when said figure wasn't the king, anyway.

And he was as stubborn and temperamental as him.

Between feeling the joy of not giving a damn about the rules on 'capturing' the enemy's king and blatantly ignoring both royals, Sirius conceded that he had never had this much fun playing with a rookie before.

A low chuckle escaped his throat and enjoyed the short lived freedom of the room before it died out again. He missed his godson and by now he knew both of the letters he had received during the summer by heart. But still. Still the joy of seeing Harry's handwriting addressing him had not vanished. Still he was amazed about them being able to exchange kind words, important words and words about their everyday lives. (Well, Harry's everyday life anyway.) Still he couldn't get enough of reading both letters up and down and up again. Still he wished that he could reply more regularly without the fear of getting found out.

He had managed to lay his hands on a fly-away bird last time. He was sure it had belonged to a collector who was most likely very sad by now about the loss of such a beautiful bird. Belatedly, he wondered if his charm had lasted long enough to have it fulfill its purpose and deliver the letter. He had not received Harry's response yet.

Next time I'm using a carrier pigeon. No taking chances ever again, he thought. He had even located a pigeonry in the suburbs already that he could use.

With yet another wistful sigh, he turned back to the latest letter he had received. It was a month old by now. Apparently Harry's aunt had announced that his cousin needed to be set on a diet and had given the start signal for a lot of hilarity. Sirius just wished he could have been there to experience and enjoy the scenes together with Harry.

At least my existence and notoriousness are of some use to him ...

And indeed they were. Harry had mentioned shortly that the Dursleys were petrified that he could turn up at their doorstep one day. And he would have. Would have thrown caution in the wind and turned up and rang the bell if Harry's first letter hadn't stated that they now at least gave proper food to him on a regular basis and didn't harass him as much anymore.

I've taken the risk of being near his house once in the past and got away with it even though they were searching under rocks to find me just to see him. Of course I would have taken a lower risk if I had to fear him starving.

Sirius heard it right as he was thinking that. The muffled crack! resounding from two floors above his head that indicated that Elric and Kreacher had returned. And so, like every other day, Sirius got up from his place at the kitchen table and walked to the stove to prepare dinner. A house-elf's work, he knew, but after the servings of sour milk - that had somehow not smelled foul at all - and the resulting stomach aches, he had taken cooking into his own hands.

He frowned. I'm just glad Elric declined that offer of milk. I doubt I'd have been any good at taking care of a sick teenager.

But it had him thinking. What if Kreacher had somehow known that Elric would decline? At first he had given the order to escort Elric to work and back so as to spite the nuisance. Keep him occupied while keeping him on a short leash. Give him mundane and unnecessary tasks that the creature would feel aggravated about having been ordered to do. But somewhere along the line it appeared that Kreacher wasn't as opposed to this task as he was supposed to be.

He scowled at the thought, pots rattling loudly as he used too much force to move them around.

Sirius hadn't noticed at first. Hadn't noticed how the house-elf would Disapparate up to ten minutes before the time he was to meet up with Elric. Hadn't noticed that both of them returned not right-on-spot but later and later. As if they were spending time with each other outside. Enjoying each other's company. Sirius clearly remembered shuddering at the thought of anyone getting along with Kreacher well enough to voluntarily spend time with him. He had been sure he was imagining things. Convinced himself of chasing after something that wasn't there.

But it's hard to overlook the evidence when it's right before my eyes.

He put the freshly cut ingredients to the side and controlled the heat of the stove. They were smiling, he thought. Remembered. Sirius hadn't even known that Kreacher was able to smile. Hadn't bothered to pay enough attention to find out. But Elric was smiling right back at him. At this useless nuisance that never does anything other than getting on people's nerves! As if it was the most natural thing in the world!

It had been three days since that incident and he still hadn't managed to get over the initial shock.

He even likes the decorations of the house, Sirius mused as he continued to stir the pot. Maybe I should tell him that those heads on the wall of the staircase for once aren't objects made of magic but were real house-elves once upon a time?

But in the end, he wasn't sure if it was worth it. Knowing his luck, Elric would put distance between himself and Sirius and instead place himself closer to his servant.

Definitely not worth the risk. If there's one thing Kreacher definitely doesn't need, it's friends.

It had been more than an hour since Elric had returned from work but the boy had yet to make an appearance downstairs.

This was unusual but not worrisome.

What was unusual, however, was that he didn't even react once Sirius had finished preparing dinner and called him down for it. Sighing, he turned off the heat and made his way upstairs.

Elric was not in his room on the first floor. A check-up on the bathroom revealed that its door was open and as empty as the bedroom. Sirius frowned.

He knows he is not allowed to go upstairs. And he's most definitely not downstairs, either. Maybe he went out again? But Sirius hadn't heard another crack! and the front door hadn't been used.

On a whim, he checked the last remaining room of the floor. The study had never been of much interest to him. On the contrary. Sirius despised the family tree on the tapestry that all but radiated his parents' feelings of superiority and pureblooded status . And if he wanted to get a good look outside, his own window offered a better view of the surrounding houses.

He found Elric sitting as still as a stone on the floor. From his position at the door, Sirius couldn't gauge anything other than that and so he moved inside to get a better look. Facing Elric and standing around two meters in front of him was a stone that had been cut into an unmistakable shape.

Well, that's new, thought Sirius. He was sure that this hadn't been there before. Especially not the head of what appeared to be an armour much like the ones that populated the halls of Hogwarts. The name of the gravestone stated Alphonse Elric. Nothing else. No farewell wishes, no 'Thank you for having existed' and no birth and death dates either.

A relative perhaps? He frowned. It would explain why he's paralysed.

Sirius crept forward, fully intent not to startle the kid. Elric's body was rigid, mouth pressed into a thin line and his usually tanned skin lacked any kind of colour. Eyes as big as saucers were fixed firmly on the sight across of him. Sirius did the only thing that came to mind. He moved in front of the teen and deliberately blocked the gravestone from view.

When he turned back around, the stone had already changed form. The worn-down floor of the study now presented them a very realistic looking corpse of none other than Remus Lupin. Sirius swore his blood turned to ice right then and there. A tiny part of his mind supplied him with the information he had learned during his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

Boggart, it said, Riddikulus, it reminded. Just an illusion to ward you off. Think of something to ridicule your worst fears.

Another part that wasn't frozen in shock countered: But how do you ridicule the corpse of a person so important to you?

He couldn't think of a way but he had to try nonetheless. Without much determination, Sirius took his wand out. Shaking fingers pointed it in the direction of the magical creature. "Riddikulus!" he shouted and relished in a short moment of elation when the image of Remus' dead body jumped a little. But then he realized it hadn't worked. For the Boggart was not fleeing back into the open drawer he could see in the rear part of the room. Instead, it changed form again.

This time it weren't Remus' pale eyes staring dully back at him. This time they were a startling shade of green and belonged to a much younger appearance.

"What ..." It was Elric's voice that shook him out of his grief.

His reply was absentmindedly at best. "A Boggart," he said and hoped he didn't have to elaborate. Words were not coming easy right now.

"But this isn't ... Ah." Whatever Elric had concluded, Sirius didn't know. He tried to bring his legs in working order again, to stand up and face the creature like a grown wizard should be able to.

When had he even sunk to the ground in the first place?

"Is it … corporeal?"

… What?

"What?" What's he talking about?

"The Boggart. Is it like a ghost or like a person?"

Sirius still had no idea what was going on.

"Currently ... like a person, " he decided. A very dead person. A very dead person that so happens to look like my godson. Who so happens to look like my best friend from school and whom I actually saw in that condition.

He had finally managed to get back on his feet again, but he was nowhere near top shape. If the deep breaths Elric was taking behind him were anything to go by, then neither was he.

"Good," he heard the boy mutter reassuringly to himself. Sirius had no idea what was good about this situation. He could use the Riddikulus another time, but seeing as what had happened on his first try, he wasn't too keen on the outcome. And then he didn't have any more time to contemplate on the matter because suddenly Elric was in front of him. Sirius watched on in quiet wonder as he dashed to Harry's lifeless form on the ground and snatched it up by the (too old, too realistic) shirt he was wearing.

It was only as the teen started to cast the figure across the room that it started to change form again.

Sirius wouldn't have any of it. If Elric had chosen the direction of his hurl deliberately or not, he didn't know, but it had been enough to shove the Boggart nearer to the drawer it had come out of. It was now or never.

"Riddikulus!"

The spell hit the Boggart dead-on. It crashed into the drawer with a resounding thud and was stunned enough to not do anything when Sirius made quick work of closing it firmly.

It took another two minutes until all of the tension seeped out of their bodies and two pairs of shoulders sagged in relief.

After that, dinner was a silent affair. Neither he nor Elric felt the urge to talk and so the clanking of their cutlery was the only sound that filled the oppressive silence. It wasn't until the plates had been emptied, the glasses refilled and the fire was burning low that Sirius decided to break the tension.

"So ... Alphonse, huh?" His own voice sounded small and hesitant in his ears, but even so his guest couldn't suppress his wince.

" ... Al is my younger brother."

Sirius had guessed as much.

"The one you intend to heal once you create your wand?"

Elric merely managed a nod and held a little tighter on his glass, as if it was a lifeline.

Again, they lapsed into silence.

After another five minutes, Sirius spoke up once more.

"Mine were my best friend ... and my only godson."

And Elric nodded again, this time in compassion.

They didn't play chess that evening.

Sirius knew he should have seen it coming. Maybe he had, in a distant, unheard part of his mind that he never paid any attention to. Both he and Elric were terribly hot-tempered (a fact that showed itself repeatedly while playing wizard chess) and the issue had been simmering ever since the boy first arrived. And now here they stood, 'arguing' in a volume that resembled screaming more than talking. Because Elric had finally found out about the shrunken house-elf heads on the wall. And Sirius couldn't tell him that all of the 'decoration' had been done by his parents, not him, or that he totally despised the practice because-

"What the heck do you mean, you wouldn't do that? I'm not blind! You've been treating Kreacher like shit ever since I arrived and I'm sure it didn't just start then. You practically enjoy seeing him suffer through your punishments!" To put it mildly: Edward Elric was furious.

Well, at least I was able to see this point coming. Not that it helps now.

Sirius had made sure not to scold his servant in front of his guest anymore because Elric would look positively more dangerous each time he did. Like a taut string ready to snap if one of his punishments was not an unpleasant task but a hit or a kick or something equally physical.

Apparently, the taut string had snapped anyway.

"Just because I can't stand him doesn't mean I would do this to him! Really, I'd be very happy to never see his face ever again, so why would I go through the trouble of hanging it where I'd have to see it every singe day?"

"You 'can't stand him'? Talk about understatements! You despise Kreacher! Why do you hate him so much in the first place anyways?" Elric said as he slowly turned away from the sight of the shrunken house-elves to head downstairs. "You know, I really don't get it! When I asked Kreacher about the characteristics of you, Regulus Black, he said that you were very close to your parents in your youth." Shit. "And he also said that you were very close to him back then. Even asked him to do some really important task that you couldn't do yourself out of whatever reason."

Shitshitshisthisthit … Why can't he just stop talking? And didn't I tell the nuisance not to dare to slip up even once?

He knew, technically, it wasn't 'slipping up' since the house-elf hadn't outright said that he wasn't Regulus. But it came close enough. Too close for comfort! Sirius hadn't even realized that his command held such a dangerous loophole. Or that his servant had managed to not only find it, but to use it to his advantage without him noticing, either. That's why I despise the scheming creature. And I know for a fact that my feelings are being reciprocated as well!

But to his utmost horror, Elric wasn't finished yet.

"And then the wand combination you told me," he rattled on. "It doesn't add up at all! I mean-"

"Shut UP!" Sirius roared and successfully stopped the rant from going on. The boy didn't look taken aback, though, and neither did he look sheepish for having talked back to his host like that. No, the only thing his face was showing was a defiantly set jaw and a burning challenge in his eyes.

Sirius rose to meet it.

"People change, you know? They do things in their youth that could best be described as utterly foolish. Stupid things. Ridiculous things. Dangerous things. Forbidden things." Something changed then, in Elric's eyes, but Sirius didn't care enough to pay it any mind. "Things they regret," he continued, "people they regret having ever trusted once they are older." Their walk downstairs had stopped when they had reached the ground floor and so Sirius took this moment to close the remaining distance between him and the teenager to loom over Elric intimidatingly. "Maybe you will understand when it's your turn to be older, Elric, but don't bullshit me about things that happened decades ago."

But the boy missed his hint to back down and drop it already. He had just opened his mouth to retort back when another well-known voice droned over from the wall.

Exactly what I needed right now, Sirius thought sarcastically as he once again was called a byproduct of vileness, something lower than scum or other such niceties.

They had ignored the hag twice before. Or rather, they had tried to ignore her outbursts in vain attempts to wait until she calmed down of her own accord.

They could've told the moon to stop circling the Earth and received a more promising result.

So this time, like every other time where they hadn't felt like experimenting, they both turned in the direction of the offending portrait at once. Walburga Black didn't give a damn about their combined efforts or their matching sets of scowls and just continued to scream blood and thunder as if her life depended on it. Their ears endured the torture for another endless forty seconds before they managed to tug the curtains closed again. The noise level fell immediately.

"Oh just how much I hate it," Sirius muttered under his breath.

Elric, it seemed, had managed to catch it anyways. "So," he started and took a last steadying gulp of air, "if what you said is true and you you don't like what your parents were like during your youth ... And if you really hate how this painting acts up, like, all the time ..." at this, he turned to face him properly. "Care to tell me again just why you are keeping it?"

If looks could kill, I'd be deader than a doornail. He scowled in return.

"Because," Sirius ground out with as much patience as he could muster, "I can't. My mother's Permanent Sticking Charm is keeping it in place."

"Permanent Sticking Charm?" The way Elric parroted every spell or charm Sirius ever mentioned really had him wonder just how small his home town actually was.

"Yes," he said. "As the title states, the painting is stuck to the wall permanently by magic." He deliberately stressed the words that the boy could have totally deduced on his own.

"Just making sure. Though you still want it off, yes?"

The look he shot Elric said it all. But this time, he did look sheepish and merely shrugged his shoulders in the careless way that could have or could have not been an apology. Next, he turned his back to Sirius and examined the part of the wall the painting was attached to. And then he opened the freshly closed curtains with a flourish once again. Sirius gaped. To his eternal relief, the old hag was surprised enough to at least have the decency to look startled. Before she had the chance to start another tirade, however, the teen stepped forward and did ... something. The zigzagging light was blinding in the small hallway and when Sirius dared to open his eyes again, Elric was already holding the painting in his hands.

Sirius blinked.

Walburga gaped.

Elric smirked.

Is he telling me we could have gotten rid of her the very day he moved in?

Sirius took some moment to let the concept of a quiet and Walburga-free year sink in. Once it did, he allowed a small, delighted smile to form on his face.

No being called a traitor every time someone takes the steps in a hurry. No more insults. And most importantly: Not seeing her again.

It sounded like heaven.

"Thank you," he said at last. And he meant it.

Their fight from earlier seemed forgotten when Elric handed the painting to Kreacher.

Stupid nuisance spied on us again, huh?

"Please take this to a room as far away from Mister Black's as possible and make sure that he doesn't happen across it," the boy told the house-elf and then turned back around to look at Sirius for confirmation.

After his nod, Kreacher hurried away to the staircase, hands clasped tightly around the frame and tears streaming down his face. With the new angle, Sirius could see that the back of the painting was not showing the reverse of the canvas or the frame, but a combination of tapestry and stone. A look back to its original place revealed an impression shaped like a rectangle. Instead of removing the picture, Elric had merely removed the part of the wall where it had hung. He had not countered the charm itself, but rather worked around it.

It made terrible sense. The solution to this problem was as easy as obvious. I can't believe I never got that idea myself!

"Can I do the same with the heads?" Elric asked after a moment of silence.

Yes, please do. "Of course. Go ahead." And the kid immediately set about his new task.

It was only when the boy was carrying the second set of heads downstairs that Sirius wondered just where all the stuff was going to be kept. A room as far away from mine as possible, he said. Where I won't happen across it. My room is on the highest level, so the furthest away would be the cellar. But we are eating in the kitchen. And I go to the pantry regularly when cooking. His eyes widened as realization struck hard.

"You gave the painting to Kreacher?"

The boy's smile was as innocent as Sirius eyes looked incredulous.

"You didn't protest earlier. And you won't have to see it anymore nor to endure its tirades. I really don't see why you complain."

"You gave it to Kreacher!"

"Well, we could always throw it out on the street," Elric said with a voice as sweet as an angel. "I'm sure the neighbours would love to hear Mrs. Walburga Black's screams of you being a traitor resound throughout the whole neighbourhood." And he headed downstairs without waiting for a reply.

Sirius stood, rooted to the spot.

He probably meant it just like he said. Nobody would like that to happen to them, no matter who they are. He couldn't have found out about me in such a short time.

Yet somehow the thoughts didn't reassure him as much as he wanted them to.

The questions and insecurities of the evening before had not left him alone during the night. Whenever he had managed to at least close his eyes, scenarios of What If played through his mind and would not grant him any rest. He had finally given up in the early morning hours when he sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. The flickering light of the fireplace was soothing the dark colours of his ragged thoughts, the hypnotizing dance of the flames slowed them down enough to become coherent and clear.

In the end, there had been the awareness that he would not know for sure if he didn't do something about it. While he couldn't just outright ask Elric if he knew about him, he had decided to follow him around to find out on his own. He would know if the boy went to the Ministry and, in case he did, have enough of a head start to get Buckbeak and himself out of the country in time. Elric was unable to tell the Aurors just where Sirius was hiding so long as Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper, but he'd only have to mention having seen Sirius Black somewhere in London to have all of them swarm about once again.

Sirius had left 12 Grimmauld Place as soon as he had heard the crack! of Kreacher's Disapparition, paws tapping on the pavement in rapid succession. He snuck around the shop at first, since he didn't know if Elric had already entered. For all he knew, he could very well be at the Ministry already. When the first customer entered, though, the voice shouting out the greeting was not that of old Mister Ollivander, but that of the boy. Satisfied for now, he trotted over to a more inconspicuous area and settled down for the wait.

The rest of his day consisted of observing Ollivander's store. More precisely, his front door. Customers went in and out of it, but it wasn't until noon that Elric's golden hair easily caught his attention. The boy was clearly familiar with the layout of the streets and, Sirius noticed wonderingly as he dared to walk into hearing distance, with a few of the vendors as well. He himself had never gotten a discount when buying from Florean Fortescue, but the boy had just bought his ice cream for three Knuts below the usual price.

Unless the price went down sometime between back then and now, Sirius mused, but secretly thought it highly unlikely. It probably went up and he got more than just three Knuts as discount. He was not jealous, he decided. Not at all.

Elric did not behave suspiciously in the least. Not when he roamed the shops during his lunch break and neither when he did a second tour in the opposite direction after Kreacher had come to pick him up.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. He had been right. Those too clearly got along too well. As it was, though, stalking them any longer than the fifteen minutes he already had was too risky because, contrary to Elric, Kreacher knew what an Animagus was. And he was trained to watch out after those he was supposed to protect and to be on the look-out for possible threats while they were out of the house. His father had been paranoid, after all.

No doubt he sees Elric as someone worthy of his protection already. The thought was so foreign to Sirius' concept of the house-elf, enough that he was startled a little. Kreacher had never before shown any interest in someone who didn't clearly belong to the family. Neither had he ever made any move to settle himself on neutral terms with someone he didn't know the blood status of. Let alone befriend them. The whole point of ordering him to Apparate Elric all the time was to force him to leave the house. Because Kreacher adored it so much that he only ever left it if there was no other way.

I may have given him the order to 'be nice' to our guest, Sirius thought, but this goes way further than that.

It was all very disconcerting. Just now, the elf had taken the initiative and pointed one of his bony fingers at a nearby display case and talked. Talked, as in not screaming, muttering, cursing or not saying anything at all. If he had had his human form, Sirius would have rubbed his eyes in disbelief. As it was, though, he merely shook his head violently and made his way back to the house, being reassured for now.

When Elric didn't do anything suspicious during the next few days either, Sirius started to relax yet again. The teen had used the part of the money he got from Ollivander that he didn't need to use on groceries to buy two owls and the respective supplies for them. "Because I've got to write to my brother and my childhood friend," he had replied to Sirius' enquiry. He had asked him first if he could station them at Grimmauld Place, but had switched to Ollivander after Sirius claimed to have an allergy to bird feathers. "They would skin me if I didn't. But both are living quite far away, so if I only used one it would take eternity."

Sirius secretly doubted that they would truly skin him and 'eternity' had taken a totally different meaning after Azkaban. But he hadn't said anything, just returned the peaceful smile and continued to chop the vegetables.

So when a familiar snowy white owl sat down on his bedroom's window sill one Saturday evening, he was quite glad that Elric wasn't allowed upstairs and thus couldn't call him out on his lie. In an instant, he was by her side, obliged momentarily as she wanted him to pet her, and finally took the parchment from the offered leg.

Wonder what Harry would say if I ever told him just how much even his handwriting resembles his father's. He smiled fondly at the memory and went to sit down on his bed, smile as broad as and never leaving his face.

Harry had gotten his letter.

The Dursleys were idiots. (He didn't understand some of the words used in that part, but the general idea came across wonderfully.)

Harry had mentioned again that his existence simplified his life.

And...

Sirius' eyes shot up to meet the ceiling. His scar hurt. Worry instantly collected in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why it would do that, but one thing he did know: this was not to be taken lightly. He lingered on the thought for a while, wondering what kind of advice he could give his godson. And then his eyes fell on the last part of the letter.

Harry would be staying with the redhead he had dragged below the Willow, because his dad had gotten tickets for the Quidditch World Cup. The smile from earlier found its way to his face again. This was good. As used to raising children as the Weasleys were, they would be able to take better care of Harry than the Dursleys ever had. The World Cup would distract Harry from his worries. He would be with his friends for the rest of the summer. He would be able to talk to them about things that were on the mind of a teenage wizard. But most importantly: Harry would be happy.

His smile lit up once again.

Now he just had to find a way to ensure that Hedwig didn't leave the house too early or someone may notice that Harry's letters to him merely took a couple of hours.

Sirius had tried yet another night to not let his worries dictate his sleep and failed.

Harry will be at the tournament today, he told himself over and over again, he will be with a bunch of older and more experienced wizards. He will be fine. He will have fun. They can protect him if something happens. They will protect him if something happens.

The mantra had been going on for hours and had yet to develop its calming effect.

"... want to come?" Elric's voice cut through his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What were you saying?"

They were sitting at the breakfast table and the last thing Sirius remembered was that Elric was happily munching away his meal whilst he had been reading the newspaper he had acquired yesterday. It held a multitude of articles regarding solely Quidditch and he had felt the need to catch up to the current teams of the countries that played in the Cup. Ultimately, his thoughts had drifted to Harry's attendance, his scar and his worries and judging by the deep frown on the boy's face, Elric had been talking the whole time.

"I was saying that Mister Ollivander invited me and a friend of mine over to watch the World Cup with him," the teen finally clarified. "He said something about it being more fun with others, but I think the only reason he brought it up in the first place is because all the shops are going to be closed for the occasion anyway and I didn't know what to do in the meantime."

"That's ... very generous of him," Sirius said after a moment. "I had thought that all the cards had already been sold, though. Where did he get the spare ones from?"

Elric blinked. "You really didn't hear a word of what I said earlier." It was muttered nearly low enough for Sirius not to catch it at all, but he caught on anyways. "We are not going to see the match live in the stands," he continued on much louder. "He's got ... something ... that can show the pictures, so we can see it from his living room. He wasn't very specific about what it was, though. ... Anyway. I was wondering if you'd like to come as well. Mister Ollivander said I could bring 'my friends', so I guess he wouldn't mind if I brought more than one."

Sirius knew the answer he had to give, even though he really wanted to accept the invitation.

"I'm sorry, but I've already made plans with some acquaintances of mine. I'll meet with them later on, so I guess you'll have to go alone."

Or with whoever is the other friend you are bringing. You never mentioned knowing anyone after all.

It was later on the very same Monday that Sirius once again found himself curled up under one of the few niches in Diagon Alley, directly opposite of Ollivander's. He had arrived sometime around two hours ago and it was around that time that the clouds had decided to pour down mercilessly. It wasn't that the rain bothered him in particular, it was the small details that did.

It was how that niche wasn't quite as big as him and some part or another always got wet if the wind changed direction just the slightest bit.

It was how he seemed to be the only idiot out here, most likely because everyone else was already at the tournament or partying with their families and friends.

And it was especially in how neither Elric nor his friend had come by even though this was precisely why he had come here in the first place.

He growled in frustration.

Another five minutes later and he could make out two shapes that huddled below a single umbrella and hurried along the cobbled pavement. He caught their conversation even from the distance and over the faint melody of the falling raindrops.

"Eve is really sorry, Mister Elric! She didn't mean to take so long!"

A house-elf, Sirius thought, mentally face-palming. Of course. Elric doesn't only get along with house-elves, but he also calls them friends and brings them to Quidditch gatherings. He should have known, really.

"I've already told you, Eve, it's alright. It was me who sent you back to change your dress for the occasion after all."

If it hadn't been for the fabric to be soaked by rain and the stains caused by the puddles she stepped through, Sirius may have even seen the point in the boy's request. As it was, though, he couldn't even tell which colour the dress had had in the beginning. A dark forest green maybe?

"But Eve took so long. Mister Ollivander will be worried!"

It was right when they were waiting for the old man to open the door that Sirius wasn't able to hold back the urge to sneeze. It had been building up for quite some time and now the sound cut through the low splattering of the raindrops and managed to attract their attention immediately. Elric appeared to recognize him, but the elf surpassed his raised eyebrow any day.

"Oh my!" she shouted and suddenly left the shelter of their shared umbrella. With a few hurried steps, she crossed the street and came to a halt right in front of him. Eve was very old for one of her kind, but her eyes and ears were as big as every house-elf's. Sirius had no idea what he looked like, all huddled together in that niche and fur probably as shaggy as always, but he guessed it was not a pretty sight. At least not if the pitying look in her eyes is anything to go by. She turned back around when the shop door opened.

"Mister Ollivander!"

Elric was already shaking the folded umbrella and took a step inside, but Eve didn't budge from her place, looking between him and Ed and Ollivander as if she didn't know what to do.

What … is going on?

She sent another pleading look in Elric's direction. This time, the boy caught on. He seemed sceptical for a moment, then heaved a sigh and turned around to where the wand maker had stepped after letting him in. There was a moment of tense silence when he hesitated before speaking with the other. Sirius couldn't hear what was said, but then Elric turned back to Eve and nodded.

She beamed.

If anyone had told him this morning that he would be lying in Ollivander's living room later that day, watching an amazing Quidditch match through one half of a colossal two-way-mirror, he probably wouldn't have believed them. Especially since the downpouring weather of London didn't match with the one shown on the other side of the mirror at all and since he hadn't even known that such big versions of the two-way-mirrors existed. It was enormous compared to what he and James had used back then during their detentions.

As it was, though, all of it was reality.

The house-elf called Eve had cleaned and dried her dress with magic – it was of a nice lime-green colour – and then proceeded to dry him off. Elric on his part had crouched down in front of him and said in a matter-of-fact voice "You better be grateful, okay? I told him I had seen you around often enough to judge that you are for one harmless and for the other house-trained. So be a good dog and wait at the door if you need to go out." He had practically glowered. "Understood?"

Sirius had not known how to respond. If he had been human, he would have most likely succumbed to a fit of laughter. But alas he wasn't and because of that, he didn't know what Elric expected. Dogs didn't nod in understanding. They also didn't bark in response to an 'understood?' because they just didn't understand. Luckily for him, the boy had come to the same conclusion and left him alone afterwards.

Ollivander was living two floors above his shop. (From the glance Sirius had managed to throw in whilst climbing the stairs, the first seemed to be used for storage purposes of all different kinds of woods and instruments.) Eve had found an old, fluffy blanket and laid it neatly in the corner of the living room, motioning for him to come and settle down. He had complied like the good dog he hadn't promised to be and there really hadn't been a choice about it at all. Eve had a certain kind of air around her, Sirius realized. Like an old woman tucking in her grandchild, he thought bemusedly and continued to watch her walk around the room, making sure that everyone was comfortable before sitting down herself.

It seemed that the other side of the mirror was being held by somebody sitting pretty far in the front, for there were no people or their heads disrupting their view of the match. It wasn't the same as being in the stadium, of course, yet it was close enough. The euphoria was still there, the indescribable anticipation that filled the audience when one side flew an attack, the thrill, the joy. Maybe the atmosphere didn't get transported completely, and maybe he missed feeling the rush of air whenever a player sped past the stands at high speed, but he was still very grateful for the elf's insistence that he come inside with them.

There was something different about this social gathering if he compared it to the chess matches and conversations he'd had with Elric.

And it's not just that there are more people present, he thought as he managed to tear his gaze away from the mirror and looked around. He had been around people before, on the streets of Muggle London as well as in Diagon Alley. But now he wasn't just there, but rather a part of it. So what if he couldn't participate when Elric tried to identify the woods of the wands shown occasionally in the mirror – and failed for the most part, much to Eve's silent amusement – when lunch was served, he got a part of the deliciously cooked meat as well. So what if he couldn't participate in the explanations of the more finer art of Quidditch, nor could he give input about which team would win and which player did well – when Krum and Lynch dove down to the ground, it seemed as if the room itself held its breath and choked it out again when Lynch crashed to the ground. And he was part of the room.

"Will he make it?" Elric's face was ashen and his eyes shone with sympathy when he turned to face Ollivander.

The old wizard nodded his head slowly. "The medics will take care of him. I bet the match will continue in a short while."

With that, Elric seemed satisfied and turned back to watch the mirror. Sirius couldn't help but wonder, though. Ollivander didn't seem particularly interested in the World Cup. He had barely commented on the earlier speculations and he didn't appear to be as enthusiastic as the rest of them. And yet, he had invited them over.

No, Sirius realized. He invited Elric and extended his invitation to his friends. He glanced over to him. He must be up to something. Stays the question what that 'something' could be.

As Ollivander had predicted, the game continued on after a short break, took up an even quicker pace and climaxed just as spectacularly as the final match of a Quidditch World Cup should. Sirius' tail was still waggling from excitement a good twenty minutes after they had put a curtain over the mirror. Scenes were playing before his mind's eye, scenes that hadn't just taken place but lay way back in the past. Pictures of James speeding past the ranks of Hogwarts, chasing after the Snitch. Memories of Remus, Peter, Lily and him cheering for their friend. Celebrating together after Gryffindor won yet again. Back in the days when the world was still rosy and peaceful. The good days.

Suddenly a loud shriek pierced through the content chatter the other three had fallen into after the match had ended. For a moment nobody knew where it had come from, before they realized that the party sounds that had still be coming from the covered mirror had disappeared and that loud tapping noises had taken their place instead. Ollivander was the first to move. He went over and dragged the old red cloth away once again.

Death Eaters.

The second mirror had been discarded somewhere on the ground near the scene. It must be leaning against something, Sirius thought as he realized this to be the only way to create the angle they were observing from. There weren't many of them, but even the handful of robed and masked figures were enough to send the masses scrambling away in fear. Two or three let loose red sparks from the tips of their wands and ignited tents standing nearby while the rest was laughing manically at the retreating fans, sending the Cruciatus Curse after them to hasten their steps.

'What are you doing?' came a fearful voice from somewhere outside of the mirrors view. 'You can't do this, it's not right,' it continued on. 'And what's with these awful costumes?'

"Oh no."

It was Eve who had voiced her thoughts, but it could just as well have been his own. The last statement had outed the man for what he probably was: a Muggle.

'Oh, what have we here?' the delighted voice was that of a Death Eater. It sounded strange, as if she had altered her voice to sound different from her usual.

Still the same old cowards, then, Sirius thought but wasn't feeling very brave himself. His eyes were idle while searching the scene for the figure of his godson and his friends. So far he hadn't managed to locate them. But that's good, he reminded himself. If he's not there, then he's not in danger.

'He doesn't know what a Death Eater is! Hahah!' The Death Eater flicked her wand and a new figure swept into focus. The man's skin was as white as snow and his eyes were two big pools filled to the brim with panic. A hand movement later and he was flying through the air, screaming his lungs out for the help that had yet to arrive. The other Death Eaters joined in, trying to hit him with their curses as he was hurled from left to right and up again.

"Why is nobody stepping in?" Elric asked in the middle of the shocked silence. "The poor man will be scarred for life and all they do is run away."

"They are afraid," was Eve's simple answer.

When it became clear that this was not satisfactory for the boy, Ollivander proposed: "They are not only afraid, Edward. They are so paralysed with fear that they can't not run away. Too many bad memories are linked to those robes. If it is any reassurance to you, the man will be healed completely once the authorities arrive. He will not remember any of this by tomorrow morning. It could be assumed that his memory has been altered a couple of times already throughout the day. If he's still there, then it's probably his ground that the tents were positioned on."

It was obviously not a reassurance.

"That doesn't make it okay," Elric said in a low voice. "Even if he's a Muggle. He's still a human. Toying with his memories like that-" he trailed off. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed anger and he tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths. It didn't help. "Minds … souls … Can't you see that they are too fragile, too precious to be toyed with so easily? How can you talk about erasing memories as if it were a blessing?"

"How else should we handle it?"

Elric may have been talking to Ollivander but he wasn't looking at him. His eyes were fixed firmly on the scene that still played undisturbed at the other side of the mirror. The first Death Eater had slowed down her attempts to evade the curses sent by her comrades and the man was hit dead-on more than once. He didn't reply at first. For the whole minute that Elric kept silent, the screams of the Muggle's agony washed through the room.

"You could have sent him on vacation for the time of the World Cup," he said at last. "Back home, nobody who was capable of interfering would run away like that. Or well, that's at least what I hope most would do." He growled dangerously. "I know I'd personally kick the ass of anybody who didn't!"

Ollivander was regarding Elric in a very curious way, Sirius thought. He wasn't even so much as glancing at the mirror anymore, instead opting for fixating the boy with a piercing gaze. Eve, too, had realized it. Elric had yet to switch his attention.

"So, do Muggles in your hometown know about wizards?"

"... Sure."

Ollivander raised an eyebrow. "And there were no complications? No jealousy at all?"

"No." Since Elric was still distracted, Eve took the matter into her own tiny hands. By stepping up to the mirror and placing herself in front of it, she managed to force the boy out of his trance.

"Eve thinks that the man wouldn't want people to see him in this state," she said in a manner of apologizing.

"I … guess you are right." Elric blinked a moment and averted his gaze.

Looks like someone finally came back to the present, Sirius thought smugly.

Elric turned back around to face Ollivander. "Since we don't have wands to amplify our magic, many wizards are very weak," he finally replied to the original question. "Weak to the point where they can't control their powers enough to use them, so they are no different from ordinary people. Back home, just because someone can't use magic doesn't mean they necessarily aren't magical. It's hard to draw a line, so we don't bother to differentiate too much."

"How very intriguing-"

Eve screamed.

The mirror on the other side had gotten shattered and its pieces showed all different kinds of angles of either the ground or the sky. More importantly: what was in the sky. The Dark Mark hung big, green and menacing in a stark contrast to the dark sky.

"They only conjure the Dark Mark after committing a murder," Eve mumbled brokenly, hands clutched tightly above her mouth. "And just when the Ministry officials had arrived to help, too." She started sobbing uncontrollably while Ollivander draped a red cloth about the unbroken part of the mirror.

They didn't stay long afterwards.

The next day found Sirius once again in Diagon Alley. He hadn't actually wanted to come at all during the next two or three weeks for fear of being found out if he visited too often, but the boy had acted so strangely that he'd hardly left him any choice. Elric had come down into the kitchen the evening before and opened his mouth to ask something but instead of voicing whatever was on his mind, he had simply frowned and closed his mouth again. Then he had wished him good night and gone upstairs to his room. In itself, the scene wouldn't have seemed too strange and Sirius hadn't thought anything of it until the same happened again this morning. The boy hadn't even eaten breakfast.

He definitely wanted to say something and then thought better of it. But what was it?

For the first time since knowing Elric, the teenager's eyes had held a new set of emotions. Usually, he was very open and relaxed, sometimes amused and others plain wary. Often simply focussed on his black notebook, brows furrowed in concentration and lips moving in synch with whatever he was reading.

During these two occasions, though, there was more. Insecurity, confusion and even a hint of feeling betrayed, just to name a few. There had also been a good portion of determination during the short moment when he opened his mouth to say something, but then uncertainty won over and he retreated again, guarded his expression and left the room.

There's definitely something on his mind, Sirius concluded as he waited for the boy's lunch break to begin. He had spent the first half of the day trying to get a newspaper so he could read up on what happened to the Death Eaters of the day before. Had they been apprehended? Convicted? Been able to escape? A quick glance at the front page confirmed that they had, in fact, managed to get away and so he had settled down, paws placed firmly on top of it to make sure it didn't fly away from him the same as it had flown away from the elderly witch earlier.

Surprisingly enough, Elric was also holding a newspaper when he finally came by Sirius' spot. He was walking slowly, reading the front page attentively and didn't even realize when he nearly stepped on a pointy hat that had escaped its owners head. Not that said owner had realized the absence of his hat anyway. As usual, the boy was moving his lips along the lines he was reading in a fast pace, mumbling to himself. He was looking rather funny, Sirius found, especially since he had still not made a single move to change his wardrobe.

"... Wind will subside in the coming days … Sun and temperatures above twenty degrees for the weekend … "

Sirius blinked when Elric had moved out of earshot again. Wind? Sun? Temperatures? What was he talking about? He was confused. The part about forecasts of any sorts is further back in the paper. And neither seers nor centaurs would bother with forecasting the weather after Death Eaters just attacked the World Cup. Especially not on the front page!

The thoughts were replaying in his head in circles, chasing, replacing and contradicting each other. Just what was he reading? He had seen him buying the paper from a vendor further up the street and he knew how to recognize the layout of the Daily Prophet when he saw it. No, he concluded, he did not understand at all.

And much more importantly: Sirius had also forgotten all about following him around.

No idea how he did that thing with the painting, Sirius thought later that day as he was preparing dinner yet again, but he's a Muggle. He has to be. He'd had the whole afternoon to mull it over in his head and there simply wasn't any other way. There was no weather forecast on the front page of the Daily Prophet. There was no weather forecast in the whole goddamn newspaper! He had taken it home with him after the encounter just to make sure of it.

The familiar crack! resounded through the house as Kreacher brought Elric home, followed by slow, heavy footsteps on the staircase. Sirius frowned. Usually the boy stayed upstairs for a while longer before coming down for dinner. When the steps stopped momentarily at the ground floor and carried on after less than a minute, Sirius turned around to greet his guest.

Elric was … tense. The golden eyes that were focussed on him were narrowed to slits, their brows furrowed dangerously. He breathed in deeply.

"Were you or were you not involved in the attack during the Quidditch World Cup," he cut straight to the chase. Apparently the boy had done his own share of thinking.

Sirius blinked. "I was not."

And just why did I spend all day mulling about whether or not he's a Muggle when I should have been busy preparing for this instead?

"Then where were you?"

"I already told you. I was with some old acquaintances."

"Exactly."

Elric had not yet moved out of the doorway and was effectively blocking it. Sirius watched as both his hands left his side and crossed before his chest. The interrogation was far from over.

"Last I knew this wasn't forbidden," he ground out with a bit of bite in his words. Oh yes, they were most definitely both quite temperamental.

"That depends on the kind of acquaintances."

"Certainly not the kind that attacks the Quidditch World Cup!"

There was a lull in the conversation, but it wasn't the kind that told you it was over. "Who exactly?" Elric tried yet again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't see how this would be any of your business." He could have told him names, of course. Not that it would change much. He's acting like a blood-hound following the trail of blood. He wouldn't give up this easily. And besides, most of the names I could tell him belong to dead people anyway.

"It is my business if I think I may be living with a convicted mass-murderer that collaborated with an even worse mass-murderer once upon a time. Especially when the former subordinates of said maniac just terrorized what was supposed to be fair and joyful sports event." He had started to take steps then and was coming gradually closer. If possible, his voice had lowered in volume even more and was barely resembling a whisper. The dangerous edge had only strengthened, though.

"It concerns me because, if I am right, then I will definitely turn you in to the authorities," he continued on. "I have had my suspicions about you for quite some time, but you just never seemed the type for murder. Your eyes have seen much and you have fallen low, but you have never fallen that low."

He paused a moment. "Or so I had thought."

"And you were right," Sirius said. "But really? Turn me in? You? Someone with your genes couldn't even enter the Ministry to hand me over!"

Oh, it was a daring move, he knew. To play his ace right at this moment. But with no backup stories up his sleeve to divert the boy's accusations, attack seemed the best form of defence.

"Ah, but I don't need to." Elric's smile was positively feral. "I can just knock you out and have Kreacher deliver you to Mister Ollivander's doorstep. Or any place in Diagon Alley, really."

Well, that move sounded better in my head than it turned out in the end. But still. Maybe if I taught him a lesson about what happens when one overestimates one's own capabilities? "A Muggle like you against a wizard like me?" he asked haughtily and deliberately drew his wand. "I'd like to see you try."

However, he could hardly even move his eyes as fast as Elric moved his body then. He was lucky that he'd drawn his wand beforehand or he would have been in serious trouble already.

Sirius used a spell to knock the boy back to the other side of the room right before he reached him and took a step away from the kitchen counter to free his moving space. Next he raised the wand to point straight at his chest.

"Obliviate!" he shouted, finding that the spell made the most sense but missed by a large-scale.

Damn, he's fast. But I'm not going to go down here.

Elric was moving again, this time around the other side of the table and keeping low so he could use it as a barrier between them. To Sirius' eternal frustration, the tactic worked and his next two spells hit the wood rather than the teenager. So he changed his own ways. With a flick of his wand, the cutlery followed his orders and made a beeline for its target. Elric may have been fast to clap his hands and transfigure a shield out of the table (How can he even transfigure when he's a Muggle?!) but the main objective of halting his advance was achieved.

There was a lull in the fighting.

I need to either find a way to hit without him having the chance to create a shield, or to get out of here. He glanced at the exit. It was still on the other side of the room and Elric's position below the table was right in the middle of it. No coming through there without a suitable distraction. It was disconcerting how much trouble a single Muggle could give him. This wasn't normal. Then again, maybe it's just me and I've gotten rusty over the years.

The soft sound of clapping hands was the only warning he got before the electric-like light that always seemed to accompany Elric's Transfigurations filled the room again. The combined mass of table and cutlery wobbled, shifted and took on a vaguely human shape. An armour.

Then it charged.

No helping it now. Sirius used the only spell that he knew was effective against wood.

"Incendio!"

He had been prepared for the wood to catch fire, maybe even for Elric to cry out in surprise or pain if some of the flames reached him on the other side of it. He wasn't, however, prepared for the 'armour' to burst apart by such an otherwise weak spell as if it was mere paper. The spell had only been meant to ignite, not to strike, after all. The bright flash of light that accompanied the burst of fire would have distracted Elric enough so that he could sidestep him.

But suddenly the teen was right in front of his face, hands already held in the customary clapping position and before Sirius had the time to react, the hand holding his wand was pinned tightly to the wood of the counter behind him by yet another Transfiguration. It didn't move the slightest bit. He could try to blast it out but had the suspicion that Elric had already made plans for that. A rumbling growl left his throat.

The teen stood before him, eyes boring right into his soul. He had taken a frying pan from the nearby counter and readied himself to fulfill his earlier promise of knocking him out.

"One reason," Elric started lowly. For a moment, Sirius thought he caught a glimpse of a plea in the eyes, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. The feeling of betrayal and the determination, however, stayed clear as day. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't."

Sirius didn't know if his next action would serve as a reason, but it would certainly serve as a means to get away. He still had a good grip on his wand and luckily enough that was all he needed. So he fuelled the spell he'd known by heart for years and felt the energy rush through his body, change it.

And then he shifted.

Author's Notes:

So, uhm, please don't hate me for the small cliffhanger. I just thought this point was predestined to change POVs, so I quit it here. Plus, the chapter is already terribly long.

Personally, I've got some scenes of this chapter that I totally like, but I've also got some that I completely dislike. I'd very much love to hear your opinions, though. :)

Thanks for still reading the story and please consider to leave a review! :)

See you, hopefully, in the next chapter:

Chapter 8: Wandlore