Wow, it's been a long time since I updated a story in less than a week. I don't generally like to write too far ahead of where I publish, though, so you all get lucky. Don't get used to it, though. It helps that this chapter is pretty short compared to my usual fare.

Thanks to everyone who left reviews on the last chapter. It's nice to see people engaging with a brand new story. I hope this chapter lives up to whatever expectations you have.

Just like last time, please show any support you can to Ukraine.

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Chapter 2

June 21, 2009, 00:14

"Sirius?" Harry asked, staring openmouthed at the man in front of him. With a twinge from his bruised… everything, really, he pushed to his feet. The man grinned, and his face transformed. Despite the accouterments of age, however those had happened, his grin was the same as always; wild and carefree. The bark of laughter was the same, too, and Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Is that you, Harry?" Sirius asked, his voice thick with emotion. It was Sirius, Harry was certain of it.

"I- yeah. It's me," he rasped. Though he'd technically seen the man only an hour before, he too had trouble getting the words past the lump of relief in his throat. Sirius didn't seem to hear him, though. He reached out a gloved hand and muttered something under his breath. Harry felt a brief gust of wind wash over him, though his hair and clothes didn't move an inch. A second later, it was over, and a faint golden shimmer rippled around him before it, too, vanished. Sirius' eyes widened, and he exhaled all in a rush.

"My god, it is you. Merlin's beard, boy, but it's good to see you," Sirius said, starting forward again. For an apparently old man, he moved with the same easy, loping grace of his youth. Harry didn't have time to say more than a syllable before his godfather embraced him. "This is impossible. You're still- I thought- How the bloody hell did you wind up here?"

"I went through the Veil after you," he said, returning the embrace. His arms didn't have a chance to fully wrap around the man, though, before Sirius took a step back, his face tight with shock.

"You what?" He roared. His hands landed on Harry's shoulders, and he looked him up and down, as if checking to make sure he was all in one piece. "What possessed you to do a fool thing like that? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? How lucky you are? Gods, Harry, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I had to save you," he snapped. "You're the only family I've got left. I wasn't about to just give up on you."

Sirius took a few deep breaths before he meeting his eyes again. When he did, the feverish worry had dimmed, though not vanished, and after a few seconds, he let out another bark of laughter. This one sounded more resigned than anything else, but at least he wasn't yelling anymore.

"As brave as your parents," he muttered. "And twice as reckless. Jumping through the Veil…" He shook his head and tugged Harry into another, tighter hug. "Merlin, but it's good to see you again, lad. You look the same as I remember."

"You don't," Harry said. "You're, um…"

"Old?" Sirius stepped back, and not a small part of Harry was sorry to feel him go, even if it was only a few feet. "I should bloody well think so. It's been, oh, more than a 100 years for me since I arrived in this world."

Harry felt his jaw drop and was half-surprised it didn't hit the ground. "100 years. But how-"

Sirius held up a hand to forestall him, his eyes suddenly gone sharp and hard. "Enough time for that later. For now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened after you passed through the Veil. Every detail."

Harry flinched at that look and tried to protest. Curiosity burned in him, and he wanted, needed, to understand what was happening. Not all of it, perhaps, but something. Anything to grab hold of and convince himself there was some sense left in his life. Sirius cut through his protests with a curt shake of his head.

"No, Harry. This is important. You passed through the Veil and wound up practically in my front yard. That's no coincidence or random chance. There was a Power involved to get you here, and there's precious few of those I'd trust an inch. I need to know exactly how you got here." His eyes softened a little as he took in the bullish expression Harry knew was on his face. "I promise I'll tell you every sordid detail of my life here. But this has to come first, okay?"

Subdued, at least for the moment, Harry nodded. In as much detail as he could remember, he told him what had happened after he'd run through the Veil. From the awful battle with the piece of Voldemort's soul as he tumbled through the freezing dark (the thought of it was enough to make his stomach twist), to his conversation with Death, her words and request, and finally her… unique method of sending him on his way. He left nothing out, and every time he tried to downplay or skirt around something, Sirius dragged the truth out of him with a sharp look. The night grew chill and his legs began to ache from standing so long, but Sirius gave no indication he noticed either. His eyes were distant and troubled, and when Harry finally finished, he breathed out slowly and scrubbed a hand over his face.

The story had taken longer to tell than he'd hoped. Not all of it was because of Sirius' constant questions, either. The day's events were catching up to him, and with them the knowledge he'd last slept more than 24 hours earlier. Eddies of exhaustion tugged at his thoughts and slowed his words. Muzzily, he wished Sirius would at least let them go inside so they could sit down. He'd said something about being on his front lawn, though Harry couldn't see any sort of house nearby. Sirius' voice grabbed at his attention, though, and he held his eyes open with sheer force of will.

"Mab's perfect tits," he muttered, as much to himself as to Harry. "Death herself. Well, I suppose it's about as good as I might have hoped. If there's any of the Powers I'd trust without reservation, it's her. But what she said… And that business with Voldemort…"

He glanced at Harry as if seeing him properly for the first time. Abruptly, he twitched and shook his head. "I'm so sorry. You must be exhausted, and here I am muttering like an idiot. Let's get you into a bed. We can talk more in the morning."

Harry tried again to protest. He wasn't that tired, not really. He just needed to sit down for a bit. Besides, he wanted to hear what Sirius had been up to for the last 100 years, and how the hell that had even happened. His godfather just chuckled and shook his head.

"My story's a century old already," he said as he took Harry by the arm and gently guided him forward. "It'll keep for one more night. In the morning, when you've had some sleep and a hot meal, we'll talk. I promise."

Harry wanted to say no, that he was fine, but all that came out was a jaw-cracking yawn. As they walked, what little strength he had left drained out of his muscles. They hadn't even gone a dozen steps before he was leaning on Sirius for support. Despite complaining of old bones, he held him up easily enough, and kept him moving. Time dissolved into a series of blurry, disjointed moments, with no way to tell what happened when, or how long had passed. There was a surge of that same golden light as before. They were in a sitting room of some sort, warmed and lit by a crackling fire in the hearth. He saw stairs everywhere, without regard for gravity or geometry. A bed rose to meet him. Warm, welcoming nothingness wiped away everything else.

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"Harry!"

That was Ron's voice. He looked, but he couldn't see him. There were too many people in the way. The room was flooded with people, all in dark robes and silver masks.

No.

Not people.

Death Eaters. He was surrounded by Death Eaters.

They push in from all sides, so close he can smell their breath. Grasping hands clutch at his robes, pulling, dragging, tearing. He can't run. Can't walk. Can barely move. There's so many; they're crushing him. His lungs don't have space to inflate. Voices shout all around him, about the prophecy, about Voldemort, about all the horrific things they're doing to his friends.

"Harry!" That was Hermione. She sounded pained, but he couldn't even tell where her voice had come from. Slowly, step by step, he fought his way through the crush of Death Eaters, though he had no idea where he was going. He just had to move. If he didn't move, he'd die.

"Harry, where are you?" Ginny's voice now, weak and barely audible.

"Harry, help us!" Neville, this time. He sounded close, but there was nothing but black robes and silver masks and cruel, mocking shouts.

"Please, Harry! Hel-" Luna, now. Her voice cut off with a sharp squeak and he roared in helpless rage. His fists splashed out, trying to beat and tear a path through the mob of dark wizards, but it was no good. He could have been beating at a brick wall for all it accomplished. His friends yelled and pleaded for his help, and he could do nothing.

His friends. His brave, wonderful, brilliant, stupid friends. Stupid for following him here. Stupid for trusting he knew what he was doing, when in truth he'd only ever been fumbling along blindly. Stupid and brave, and now he couldn't help them. Couldn't get to them. Couldn't see them. Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't…

He was on his hands and knees. The crowd was gone. Had it ever been there at all? It was hard to think. He was on his hands and knees, staring at stone steps. There were noises around him. Close, but not close. He looked up and saw dim figures moving in the corners of his vision. He was in a large room full of steps, all descending to a stone archway in the middle. Sirius was there, in front of the archway. He was the only one Harry could see clearly, and he knew. He knew what was about to happen. Words drowned in midair, silent and useless no matter how hard he screamed. He ran for hours, for miles, but not a step brought him closer to Sirius. A jet of light hit his godfather in the chest and he fell backward through the archway.

Harry was there. He was in front of the arch now, but there was no sign of Sirius. He pushed through the cloth fluttering in a non-existent breeze, but just came sprawling out the other side. Sirius wasn't there. He was gone. Everyone was gone. His godfather. His friends. The Death Eaters. He was alone in an empty chamber, silent except for his own sobs reflecting back at him.

Death was there. She towered above him, coolly imperious. There was frost in her gaze and fire in her glare. Hands that had gently wiped away his tears now gripped his jaw in an iron vise. Her voice was the crack of ice on a frozen lake, the snap of a whip, and the roar of an approaching meteor.

"You cannot go back. You can never go back."

She dropped him and he was falling. Down and down, further and further, screaming all the way. Her eyes held his the whole way.

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June 22, 2009, 13:09

"Aaahh!" Harry woke up thrashing. Sheets tangled around his limbs as effectively as any net, and he had to stop and take a breath before he could pull his arms and legs from their binds.

For a few seconds after he woke, while his eyes were still closed and his head still fuzzy, Harry could almost believe it had all been a dream. The battle at the Ministry, jumping through the Veil, talking with Death, meeting Sirius aged 100 years, all of it. All part of the same nightmare that had left him grappling with his own bedding. He was in his bed in Gryffindor tower. When he opened his eyes, he'd see the aged oak and scarlet curtains he knew so well. In a minute or two, Ron would urge him to get up already, impatient for breakfast. Dean or Seamus would set off some of Fred and George's fireworks to celebrate the end of their OWL year. Neville would trip over his own feet trying to get out of bed, and they'd all march triumphantly down to the Great Hall. Hermione would meet them in the Common Room'd tell her and Ron all about his crazy dream, and they'd all have a great laugh.

'It was only a dream,' he told himself. 'Only a dream.'

He opened his eyes. It hadn't been a dream.

No scarlet curtains greeted him when he looked up. Instead, a coffered wood ceiling loomed above him. Looking around, there were no other beds nearby, and the room was meant only for one. Instead of stone walls covered by gold and crimson tapestries, there was old-fashioned wallpaper and more carved wood paneling. Not Gryffindor Tower. Not by a long shot. Disappointment, cruel and cutting as a dagger, lanced into his chest. Hot tears pricked his eyes, but he sniffed and wiped them away. There'd been enough of that yesterday, he thought.

His glasses lay on a nightstand next to the bed, alongside his wand and a handwritten note. He jammed the glasses onto his face and looked at the note.

Harry,

I wasn't sure when you'd wake up, so I left this for you. There are clothes in the dresser that should fit you, if you want to change. Feel free to wear whatever you'd like. The door next to the dresser leads to a bathroom, if you need it. Whenever you're ready, knock three times on the door to the hall, and I'll be along presently to show you where breakfast is. Please don't wander around by yourself, for now. You'll only get lost, and it'll be a devil finding you again.

Sirius.

He tossed the note down and sighed. After last night, he was burning with impatience for some proper answers. His stomach was also none too subtle in reminding him it had been uncomfortably long since his last meal. However, now that he bothered to give himself a once over, a shower and a change of clothes definitely seemed in order. His school robes were a mess, torn and stained from fighting, and he smelled of unwashed teenage boy. After living in a dorm with several other teenage boys, it didn't feel right to inflict such on his godfather. Ten minutes to clean up wouldn't kill him.

Ten minutes quickly became twenty, and then thirty. The hot shower felt sublime, even long after the last of the grime had sluiced off his skin. Eventually, though, hunger for answers (and breakfast) pulled him from the scalding water. Before he left, he took a look in the mirror, and was shocked at how normal the face staring back at him looked. The same untameable hair, the same green eyes, the same everything he saw every day. His scar looked fresh and angry, and he was a little paler than normal, but that was it. This wasn't the face of someone who'd battled Death Eaters and fallen through the void. This wasn't what someone who'd talked with Death and lost his whole world looked like. Was it?

He tugged on some clothes from the dresser; a button-up shirt and comfortable slacks. True to what the note said, they fit well. It was actually a little odd wearing muggle clothes that fit. Once he'd finished, he gave the door to his room three hard knocks and settled back to wait.

He wasn't waiting long. Barely a minute later, the door opened and Sirius stepped into the room. He looked much the same as he had the previous night; old, but spry. Harry would have guessed he was in his late sixties and well preserved at that. Certainly he didn't look as old as Dumbledore.

"It's about time you woke up," Sirius said with a grin. "It's the middle of the afternoon. I expect you'll still be wanting breakfast, though."

Harry didn't have to answer. His stomach growled angrily, and Sirius hooted with laughter.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Never known a boy your age who wouldn't eat like a starved hyena, given half a chance. Well, follow me. Food's this way. Answers, too, if you're still as full of questions as I remember."

He led the way out of the room and down the hall. Harry looked around, trying to take in everything at once. He didn't remember much of anything about getting to the house, if it was a house. It seemed more like a mansion, or maybe a castle. The place was immense, and the architecture seemed a mishmash of a dozen different styles. They turned a corner and fluted stone walls replaced the wood and wallpaper. It might have been Hogwarts, save for the lack of students. At the end of the stone corridor was a black and gold elevator that could have been straight out of a movie from the 30s. Sirius led them into it and pushed a button. There were at least two dozen other buttons on the panel, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

"How big is this place?"

Sirius snorted. "Big enough. I'll give you a tour after we eat."

After a minute or two, the doors opened on another hallway, this one done up like a Victorian mansion. Thick, richly patterned carpet covered the floor, and elaborate brass candelabras lined the walls, casting a bright, if flickering, light. Harry was starting to wonder if he'd accidentally signed up for a tour of architecture through the ages when Sirius pushed open a great wooden door and the mouthwatering smell of frying bacon drifted out.

The kitchen was the most modern looking room he'd seen so far. In a scene right out of the Burrow, breakfast was busily cooking itself, with floating utensils scrambling eggs, frying bacon, and stirring a pot of porridge. His stomach howled in desire, and Sirius shot him an amused glance.

"Eat up. There are drinks in the fridge."

Quickly, though still not fast enough for his liking, they were both sitting at a well used wooden table, plates piled high with steaming food and bowls of warm porridge next to them. For a solid ten minutes, Harry did nothing but shovel food into his mouth as fast as humanly possible. Hermione would have had his head if she could have seen his lack of manners, but it had been more than a day since he'd last eaten, and the food, if not quite Hogwarts quality, was still delicious. The thought of Hermione brought a sharp pang of grief, though, and he swallowed heavily.

Eventually, Sirius put down his knife and fork. "Well, I said I'd answer your questions after you had some sleep and a hot meal. Seems you're two for two on that account, so ask away."

Harry washed down his own last bite with a swig of orange juice and nodded eagerly. The food had jumpstarted his brain, and questions bounced around so vigorously he thought his head might explode from them. "Yeah! What is this place? What was that magic you used last night? How do you know so much about Death? What's this world like? And how are you so old now?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. "No, no, it's alright, no need to be circumspect," he said dryly, and Harry winced a little. "You're as mouthy as I remember, too. But anyway, we'll start with my distinguished-" he shot Harry a glare "- age. Like I said last night, I've been here more than a century. Specifically, I arrived in 1891."

Harry felt his eyebrows slide up his forehead. "You're 141 years old," he breathed. It wasn't necessarily impossible; wizards regularly lived past 150. Those who did, however, certainly didn't look like men in their late sixties. Sirius frowned, however, and shook his head.

"Sorry, I forgot you wouldn't know. I'm 154. The year is 2009."

Harry choked on his juice. '2009? It was 1996 yesterday. I'm in the future.' He wasn't sure why that bothered him so much. It wasn't like he had any friends here whose lives he'd missed. Hell, this wasn't even his first experience with time travel. It wasn't all that big a deal, really, compared to everything else. It still hit him like a sack of lead shot, though. He was in the future.

"It's 2009!? But why would Death send me here now? Why not the same year I left, or when you first got here?"

Sirius scratched at his beard and frowned. "Can't say for sure. I've got some guesses, but we'll get to those in a bit. One thing I do know, she wouldn't have done it without a reason, and her reasons are always good. I don't like that she mentioned you helping one of her siblings, though. They're dangerous, the lot of them, and about as predictable as drunken pixies. Still, she's not one to put mortals in danger idly. I suppose…" He flicked his fingers idly, as if shooing off a fly, and all the dishes glowed with a golden light before hurriedly floating to the sink. Scrub brush and sponge joined them and set to work cleaning the plates.

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. He hated not knowing things that pertained to him. It felt as if the last year had been nothing but a series of unanswered questions and secrets. Not for the first time, anger churned in his stomach, along with the awful sense of balancing above a chasm with nothing to grasp, but he did his best to keep his voice level. Sirius didn't deserve his irritation. "How did you do magic like that? And how do you know so much about Death and her family? How does Death even have a family?"

Sirius' frown deepened before he shook his head as if dispelling dark thoughts. He looked at Harry and a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. His eyes twinkled, and in that moment, he looked remarkably like Dumbledore. He wasn't sure if that was comforting or not.

"Are you going to keep asking three questions for every one I answer?" He asked, though his voice was teasing rather than angry. Harry flushed, but Sirius waved it off. "It's fine. The answer's the same for all of them. You wanted to know what I've been doing for the past 100 years?"

He paused dramatically, and Harry had to fight not to roll his eyes. If there was one trait he didn't think Sirius could ever lose, no matter how old he was, it was his penchant for theatrics. More than once, Mrs. Weasley had torn verbal strips from his hide over his antics. There was nothing to do but let him have his fun, and look appropriately awed at the end, lest he start sulking.

Finally, Sirius decided he'd built up adequate suspense. "I've been a superhero," he said, and sat back as if expecting applause.

Harry just stared at him. He couldn't possibly have heard right. Maybe Sirius had gone senile. Maybe his precious hair turning grey had driven him mad. From the stories Lupin told, he'd been halfway there since he was 11. However, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the dishes still washing themselves in the sink. Magic Sirius had cast without wand or word. Just a flick of his hand, as easy as brushing dust off his sleeve. Harry didn't know much about wandless magic, save that only the strongest and most skilled wizards could pull off more than parlor tricks without either focus of some kind of years of practice. Maybe Dumbledore could have managed something so complex wandlessly, but Sirius? Not the man Harry had known.

'Would it really be any more impossible than anything else that's happened?' A voice whispered in his head. It was a fair question, but then again, he still wasn't entirely convinced the last day hadn't been an elaborate hallucination.

The deep toll of a bell interrupted his thoughts. He looked around wildly, but couldn't find a source. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, and the sound hummed in his ears long after it should have faded. Sirius jumped in his chair and swore. Judging by the dull thump, he'd smashed his knee against the table. Wincing and cursing, he pushed his hair back and stood up, more carefully this time.

"Don't worry, it's just someone at the door," he said. "I'm just all sorts of popular these days, it seems." He started out of the room, and Harry made sure to follow on his heels. Sirius shot him a glance, but didn't tell him to stay. To his surprise, they didn't go through any of the doors that lined the hall. Instead, Sirius tapped a stone in the middle of the wall, seemingly at random, and a whole section of wall split and slid apart silently. Beyond, he saw a richly appointed sitting room, with thick blue carpet, comfortable looking armchairs, and an enormous chandelier giving light. Vaguely, he thought he might have seen it the previous night. Why Sirius had the way to his front door hidden behind a wall was beyond him, but common sense suggested it had something to do with this superhero business. Then again, common sense had never seemed all that interested in his life, so who knew what was going on? Certainly not him.

He spent so long staring dumbly at the room, he was too late to ask questions before Sirius was already across the floor and almost out the other door. "Keep up," he said over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want to keep a visitor waiting." He had a look about him, one Harry had seen often enough on Fed and George, as if there were some great joke only he knew about.

'If I get turned into a giant canary, I'm going to kill him,' he resolved as he hurried to catch up. Behind him, the wall slid back into place, somehow revealing a still lit fireplace over which hung the portrait of a rather lovely looking blonde woman. He didn't get a chance to see more before leaving the sitting room, though, and the pile of questions in his head only grew.

Beyond the sitting room was a short hall, decorated in the same style. At the end was a tall, arched wooden door, big enough for two men to walk abreast. Sirius snapped his fingers, and the door swung open. What stepped through might just have been the oddest thing Harry had ever seen, and there was stiff competition.

It was the rough size and shape of a well-built man, but only in that it had a head, torso, and four limbs, all in the right spots. Beyond that, though, Harry couldn't guess what it was. It was red and metallic, and wore only a blue cape fringed in gold. A yellow arrow marking stretched down its forehead, and its chest bore a red and yellow "T" symbol. Where a face should have been, there was only a blank, expressionless mask. Thin, black slits took the place of eyes and a mouth, but there was no nose at all. As it walked, its steps clanked against the stone threshold like armor. If it was armor, though, it didn't look like any he'd ever seen.

That blank mask turned towards Sirius, and Harry fought the urge to go for his wand. His godfather didn't seem bothered by this… thing, whatever it was. He couldn't keep the look of total shock off his face, though.

"Sirius Black, I greet you," the thing said. At least, Harry assumed it was the red metal man. Its voice (his voice?) was toneless and tinny, and its mouth slit didn't move at all. "I apologize for arriving unannounced. Zatara told me a large surge of magic occurred in the vicinity of the Tower. Large enough that he detected it from the Hall of Justice. I wished to ensure you were unharmed. I am gratified that this is the case."

Sirius nodded formally. "Thanks, old friend. I appreciate the concern, but I'm not so delicate I can't look after myself, even now. Even so, be welcome in the Tower."

The red thing nodded and stepped further inside. Up close, it was even taller than Harry had initially guessed. It towered over both of them, and he almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to back away. As he did, Harry saw Sirius looking at him, shoulders shaking. Before he could ask, again, what the bloody hell was going on, his godfather burst out laughing.

"Hahahaha," he howled, bent almost double and slapping his knees. "Oh, you should have seen your face, Harry. I thought birds might try to nest in your mouth."

Harry looked back and forth between Sirius and their guest, and it dawned on him he'd just been the butt of a joke. "I- you- what?" He sputtered.

Sirius straightened, still laughing. "Sorry I didn't warn you, but I couldn't help myself. Your face was just priceless."

"Forgive me," came the flat voice once again. Harry started when he saw it was looking at him. "We have not been introduced. I am Red Tornado, a member of the Justice League. By your presence in the Tower of Fate, I assume you know Sirius Black. Are you a new pupil of his?"

Justice League? Tower of Fate? And what sort of name was Red Tornado? Harry swallowed hard and looked at what he guessed were the thing's eyes. "Um- I don't-"

Sirius managed to pull himself together and swooped in. "This is my godson, Red. Harry Potter. He just got here, and I'm still getting him caught up. I was about to start explaining when you got here." He hummed in contemplation for a moment before nodding. "In fact, now that you're here, you might as well help me fill him in."

"Of course," Red Tornado said. "I do not have monitor duty until Wednesday. If you believe I can assist you, I am willing to do so."

"Good," Sirius said, ignoring Harry's bewildered expression. "It's a nice day out, so I think we'll talk on the roof. We can take the stairs."

The mischievous light was back in his eyes. Harry gulped.

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Gasp! Sirius and Harry are in the Tower of Fate? Sirius has spent the last century as a superhero? What could it all mean?

No, seriously, I'd love to hear your theories as to what you think is going on. I've had readers come up with some pretty wild guesses in the past, and it's always entertaining to read what you all think is going to happen.