August 8, 1988

The door to the inn exploded, blowing off its hinges and flying into the far wall. Three patrons pulled out wands and began casting Stupefying Charms at the others around them, while two more disillusioned wizards flickered into sight at the upstairs landing, blocking anyone from fleeing up or down. A stream of brown and grey-robed men stormed inside from the destroyed entrance.

The tavern area was quickly secured, the shock and awe of the attack so sudden practically no resistance was offered. A handful of men stayed to guard the first floor while the rest kicked in every door of the upstairs inn, detaining everyone staying and bringing them down to be secured with the others.

Sirius observed the operation, impressed at the efficiency of the men Mundungus hired. Granted, more than half of them seemed little more than thugs and brutes, exactly the sort whom one would expect to spend their lives as a wand-for-hire. But the initial group who infiltrated the inn, they were true professionals.

Calls of 'Incarcerous' rang out through the tavern, and Sirius stepped inside to find thirty or forty people tied up, on the floor. He looked them over, seeking out and identifying the innkeeper that introduced him to Yuri. One of the men who benefitted from their vile trade.

"Him - that's the one."

The man was dragged over to where Sirius waited.

"Vat is? No problems, I do nothing!"

"Yuri sends his regards from the afterlife," Sirius replied, taking in the way the innkeeper's eyes widened. "He also named all of his fellow conspirators. Is there anything you care to confess, or would you rather wait for your punishment?"

The man's face paled beneath his bushy beard, beady eyes darting around the room filled with Sirius' mercenaries. He licked his lips, and began to speak. Sirius listened, maintaining a bland expression while the man rattled off the various criminal enterprises he was involved in, occasionally nodding towards accomplices among the assembled patrons. When he was finished, Sirius turned to the man he'd put in charge of his troops.

"It's time to pay a visit to Kitezh's auror department."

Harry's eyes glazed over as his Runes teacher droned on about the uses of Elder Futhark. His efforts to nod in the correct places during the lecture obviously failed to be convincing.

"You're not paying any attention, are you?" she accused.

"Sorry."

She sighed. "Alright. Well, let's put this aside for a moment. Instead, let me tell you about some of the ways we use runes in everyday life. Perhaps that will help you focus?"

His Runes teacher was one of his nicer instructors, most of the others somewhat affronted at having to teach someone Harry's age. It was probably because she was younger and less experienced than the others - or, at least he assumed so, based on how she didn't constantly talk about her own accomplishments.

Trying to shake off his distracting thoughts, he listened attentively while she described some of the marvels of magic the study of ancient runes had produced, occasionally borrowing his quill and inking out sketches of various configurations.

It wasn't that he didn't think his lessons were interesting, just… well, rather lackluster. There was so little that was magical about the things his teachers had him learn. They expected him to sit and endure rote memorisation of spell theory, incantations, effects; it was all he could do to keep from pulling his hair out.

Where was the wonder? The excitement, the imagination? Even if he were able to perform magic on the same level as his teachers, Harry knew he wouldn't be satisfied. Not with some dusty old routines developed centuries ago.

"-and look at this, here- Harry?" Bathsheda Babbling let out another sigh. "Listen, I'm sorry if Ancient Runes isn't your favourite subject, but your father is paying me to…" she trailed off, staring out the window. "To, um…"

Harry didn't see what was so interesting about Jakub doing his exercises out on the grounds, but he was a clever enough boy to sense an opportunity. "Miss Babbling, is it alright if I have some free time?"

"What?" she blinked, as though coming out of a daze. "I- ah, I suppose so. Tomorrow we must finish the introductory materials, though, do you understand?"

He nodded, and took off running for the sunroom. With the muggy August heat outside, it was uncomfortably warm in there, enough that none of the adults were willing to spend any length of time in the bright, glass-encased room. Ignoring the heat, Harry nicked a cushion off one of the chairs and dropped it to the floor, sitting down on it a moment later.

Withdrawing his wand from inside his shirt sleeve, Harry closed his eyes, relaxing and wallowing in the pleasant sensation of wielding his magic. It was a special sort of bliss, uniquely freeing to simply be, unchained from the discipline his instructors all tried to impose upon him.

His eyes still shut, Harry never noticed the glowing purple light his unusual wand produced.

"The dough should be smooth, but not flat. You don't want it to be too thin, or it will be crispy rather than chewy."

"Like this?" Hannah reached out, taking Lily's hand in her own and guiding it to the dough she'd cut into strips. Lily felt it, deftly lifting one strip off the counter and giving it a gentle squeeze to gauge its thickness.

"Exactly like that! Are you sure this is the first time you've made these?"

The little girl was earnest in her reply. "It is! It's the truth, honest!"

Lily smiled while she manipulated the dough strips, using a cutter to segment them into the proper length. "I haven't made Chelsea buns in ages. What would you like in the centre? I have some blueberries, or… oh! I still have some currants, those will be lovely."

"That sounds really good!"

Gathering the dried fruit from a cupboard, she dusted her hands with flour and set to work rolling the strips around the currants, shaping the bun. Once Lily was satisfied with the feel of the pastry, she carefully set it on the baking sheet. "This is how I like to make them, but it doesn't have to be exactly like mine. Go ahead, give it a try."

While Hannah worked diligently, Lily's mind wandered back to the report Remus had provided about the tragedy at the hippogriff preserve. She had no doubt at all that Amelia's threat was legitimate; letting the girl know what they'd discovered about the Bletchley's potential conspiracy would be a surefire way to end the time they shared together.

But Hannah deserved to know the truth, wanted to know the truth. Still, giving her up, after all Lily had already lost…

The clock hanging from the wall above the oven struck ten. "Oh no, it's time to open! We took too long, they won't be ready!"

"It's okay, no need to fret." Lily walked to the front of the shop to unlock the door, turning the placard from 'Closed' to 'Open' and raising the blinds. Returning to the kitchen, she reached out, running her hand along the counter to feel for Hannah's creation. "Good work! Keep going with the rest of the dough."

"I'm really sorry," Hannah said glumly. "You'd have these ready to sell if you weren't teaching me."

"Nonsense! They'll be ready in plenty of time for the afternoon crowd, and you can take some home to share with Susan."

"But I'm supposed to be helping you!"

"You are, don't worry," Lily reassured her, gently pulling Hannah's hand back to the next group of strips. "Keep going."

She kept quiet while the little girl got back to work, occasionally offering a word of encouragement or congratulations with each bun she completed. Lily truly treasured the time they spent together. The bakery seemed so much more alive when Hannah was here, bringing vibrancy and colour to the dull, faded gray of her existence.

Perhaps she could contact Dumbledore; he surely had some insight into Mundungus' whereabouts. It was Dumbledore that recruited him into the Order in the first place, after all. The information Remus provided pointed in various directions, but didn't have a firm answer one way or another.

She'd wait and see what Dumbledore said, Lily decided. Just a little longer, a few more weeks before she took the risk of giving up this time with Hannah.

"So ordered. Bring in the next defendent," the newly appointed magistrate said, unrolling the parchment in front of her further. "Kolya Zhukov, you're charged-" her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "You face charges of negligence, dereliction of duty, and taking bribes. How do you plead?"

"This is ridiculous," the bound man ground out, struggling against his restraints. "I am not a criminal!"

"You were in charge of the city's law enforcement, were you not?" Sirius asked.

"I am, yes!"

Sirius leaned back in his seat and stretched, sore from hours of trying criminals. "We've heard evidence from previous defendants about the bribes you accepted. Bribes, taken from thieves and murderers, that implicate you in their crimes."

"You have no right to judge me!"

"If I don't, who would? Where can anyone seek justice in Kitezh when you actively encourage criminal activity?" The auror didn't respond, so Sirius turned and gave a meaningful look to the magistrate. "Let's continue."

"Yes, well, Mr. Zhukov, this tribunal finds you guilty of all charges." She continued to explain the auror's sentence, but Sirius tuned her out. Though the trials moved at a relatively fast clip, he was beyond tired of having to supervise them.

After his mercenaries had swept through the Invisible City, apprehending everyone implicated by known criminals, the question of what to do with them cropped up. Sirius didn't want the local population to think of him as just another thug, a new tormentor arriving to replace the old ones, so mass executions were off the table.

Instead, he thought back to immediately after Voldemort's demise, when the Ministry briefly called for investigations and tribunals. Of course, the idea quickly fell apart once the Death Eaters showed no reluctance to continue fighting, but that didn't change the fact it might have worked.

With that in mind, Sirius organised show trials so the rest of the city could see justice carried out and - more importantly - see Sirius carrying it out.

It was the only realistic option. He'd thought, before, that Kitezh's wild and unchecked chaos made for effective cover, but he was wrong. Hilde died, and Harry very nearly joined her because of his mistake.

He'd never let that happen again. Sirius would bring order to Kitezh, or he would grind it to dust beneath his boot trying to do so.

August 31, 1988

"Do you have any questions?"

"No, I'm ready."

Harry tried to meet his transfiguration instructor's gaze, but couldn't stop his eyes from darting over to where his father stood with Mundungus and his other teachers, silently observing the lesson, an encouraging smile on his face. He'd been gone for much of the last few weeks, occasionally dropping in for late dinners, or leaving early in the morning after telling Harry to study hard.

At first, he was upset and angry over his father's absence. Dung said he was busy in Kitezh, and Harry was positive he was missing out on an adventure. The Invisible City was a lot more fun than dusty old books and long-winded lectures, no doubt about it.

But Father told him how important his studies were, and Harry didn't want to let him down. He'd already successfully demonstrated the Levitation Charm, and now it was time for him to show off what he'd learned in transfiguration.

Spells weren't easy, but they were a lot more fun than theory. He wasn't able to regularly cast what he intended yet, with misfires and random effects still more common than not, but his teachers seemed confident his performance would improve as he grew older.

Transfiguration, though, was the exception to the rule. It never seemed to work for him, to the point that he failed even at turning matchsticks to needles. For this, Harry blamed his instructor - she was impatient and ill-tempered, and unappreciative of his constant questions.

Not that it stopped Harry from asking them.

Nevertheless, since this demonstration for his father was scheduled, both of them had been working hard at trying to transfigure something. Harry had even skipped his exercises with Jakub for the last two days to squeeze in extra practice. It was time to show all of that effort was worthwhile.

The object he was to transfigure - a fork - sat on a stand his teacher had conjured. He stared intently at it, doing his best to banish all other thoughts from his mind. "Remember," she said quietly from behind him, "You have to see the quill, feel it, know everything about it."

With one last inhalation, he raised his wand, ensuring the tip was angled accordingly, and spoke the incantation.

Like always, nothing happened.

"You must understand," his teacher said, obviously speaking to his father, "Transfiguration is a highly complex school of magic. It's only natural a child of his age should struggle. I'm positive Harry will eventually grasp the intricacies associated with it."

Though he didn't turn around, Harry's eyes narrowed. It wasn't his fault; hadn't he done everything his teacher told him? If there was a problem, it was in her direction! He raised his was wand once more, whispering the incantation again. Still nothing.

A sense of urgency began to overtake him. He needed to do this, to pass this test. If he could just show Father what he was capable of, maybe he wouldn't have to study so much, wouldn't have to be stuck at Blackriver, far away from anywhere and anything interesting. Yes! Harry would transfigure this fork, and then he'd ask for Dung to take him back to Kitezh.

He would earn another adventure.

Moving his wand so close that the tip nearly touched the fork, Harry imagined a quill resting where the utensil lay. He was a wizard! He didn't need books or lessons to do magic! A confident grin spread across his face, before there was a purple flash and everything went dark.

Sirius nodded along with the transfiguration instructor's excuses, not overly concerned at Harry's failure. His successful showing in charms and defence, along with his memorisation in ancient runes and rudimentary arithmancy, were more than enough to justify keeping his tutors on staff.

"I'm not upset, madam," he said, holding his hands out to placate the instructor. "I'm satisfied you're doing all you can."

"Of course," she said officiously, though her relief was transparent.

Sirius had turned to address the other teachers, to congratulate them on their efforts, so his back was turned when it happened. All he saw was a brief look of horror, then recognition on the charms teacher's face before pandemonium descended upon them.

The light was gone in a second, but the effects remained. Heavy winds were billowing out of Mundungus while he stared at himself in confusion, looking down at his hands as gusts of air flowed from his body. Terrified bleating abruptly cut out as a fully-grown goat came falling from the sky, crushing the transfiguration teacher. The runes instructor looked to be under some sort of incomplete disillusionment charm, though she reeked of sulfur and brimstone. The defence teacher had somehow - impossibly so, given the wards - apparated sixty feet away and was presently splashing around in the river. Jakub was floating ten feet off the ground, legs and arms swinging wildly, and all of the teeth in the charms teacher's mouth turned into moths and flew away.

As for himself, Sirius felt no different. He whipped around, seeking out his son, but where Harry had previously stood was instead a succulent, roasted pig perched on a platter of what appeared to be solid gold. Every so often, the pig would shake and vibrate.

"Harry?" he tried to say, but when Sirius opened his mouth, a cascade of pink-hued bubbles rather than words emerged.

"Get me down!" Jakub cried out.

Mundungus ran back towards the manor, hopefully to summon assistance, while Babbling attempted to help the injured transfiguration teacher. Sirius started towards Harry when the charms instructor grabbed hold of him, his face pale and his expression serious.

"I need to thpeat wid you," he said, speech clearly affected by his missing teeth.

More bubbles escaped his mouth when he tried to reply. Sirius withdrew his wand, and despite several (silently cast) Finites, the odd effect remained. Instead, he pulled his arm free and gestured towards Harry.

Lips pressed together in a grim expression, the teacher gave a reluctant nod, using his own wand to conjure a line to pull the defence teacher out of the Volga. Mundungus soon returned with the handful of mercenaries still on the grounds. With Dung's assurances that the effects weren't permanent, the teachers were eventually sorted. Jakub was pulled down from the sky and attached to the earth with sticking charms, the defence instructor was dried and given a stiff drink, and Babbling wandered off to spare the rest of them from her malodorous affliction.

Confident that Dung had the situation under control and Harry under his watch, Sirius followed the charms teacher back to the manor.

He conjured a quill and a roll of parchment, holding them out for Sirius to take, before asking, "Has this ever happened before?"

Sirius nodded, holding up a finger to demonstrate there was one other occurrence.

"You said you moved here from Germany?"

Sirius nodded again.

"Who is that boy, really?"

His eyebrows raised, Sirius penned a reply. My son.

The teacher frowned. "I'm sure this is hard to hear, but you must immediately cease the child's instruction. He cannot be allowed to learn magic."

This wasn't at all the reaction Sirius expected. What are you talking about? he wrote.

"The boy… I don't know how, but his magic is the same as the Dark Lord's. You must take action! Obliviate him of all knowledge of magic, or-"

He tried to shout at him, but when nothing but bubbles came out once more, scribbled a reply. When finished he held the parchment up. What do you know of Voldemort?

The other man read his words, expression turning quizzical. "Voldemort? That's not the Dark Lord I was referring to." Now it was Sirius' turn to regard him with a confused look. "You must listen to me! I know this is difficult to hear, but the child is a threat to us all! He must be dealt with!"

Sirius slammed one fist onto the table, using the other to grab for the teacher's collar. Unfortunately, the man was ready, a Disarming Charm blasting Sirius backwards and sending his wand spiralling into the air. By the time Sirius picked himself up, the teacher was sprinting out of the room, heading for the outdoors… 'Where Harry is!'

Unwilling to waste the time seeking his wand, Sirius tore after him in pursuit. Sure enough, the charms teacher was making a beeline directly towards the riverbank, where the other instructors were still gathered.

Where Harry still was transfigured, completely helpless.

Sirius pushed himself harder, trying to close the distance between himself and the rogue teacher. It wasn't enough! He wasn't going to make it! He waved his arms wildly, trying to draw the attention of the others, pink bubbles streaming from his lips as he made attempt after futile attempt to shout a warning.

A dozen paces away from his son, without breaking his stride, the charms teacher gasped out "Avada Kedavra!"

Time slowed to a crawl, the poisonous green jet of light flashing out, right on target, only to be intercepted by the golden platter that Harry lay upon.

A platter now held in the hands of a shocked and surprised Mundungus Fletcher.

The fugitive continued on, diving into the river and vanishing downstream in seconds. Sirius, breathing heavily, gestured violently for the two mercenaries to try and follow him. Then, enduring the billowing wind that still blasted outward from Dung, he embraced the other man desperately.

That was too close.

October 1, 1988

Hannah stepped out of the Floo, dusting off her jumper. The bakery's kitchen was empty. "Miss Lily?"

"I'm up here!" she called out from the flat above the shop.

Pausing to grab a snack from the chiller, Hannah made her way up the stairs. Munching on the apple cake, she looked around the small apartment. "Miss Lily?" she asked again, before dropping her treat in surprise when Lily tumbled out of the closet. "Are you alright?"

Lily picked herself up off the ground, waving away Hannah's assistance. "Sorry about that. It's the perils of reorganising when you can't see. Want to give me a hand?"

What she'd thought was a closet turned out, in fact, to be a small room, packed with an odd assortment of boxes and random items. "What is all this?"

Wiping some sweat from her brow with a handkerchief, Lily motioned for her to step inside. "There's a lamp in there somewhere, if you can find it." Hannah carefully stepped over the haphazard collection to seek out a light source. "I put everything that survived- what was left after…"

With proper illumination, it didn't take long to see what Lily was trying to say. It was obvious, the signs were all around her. A frayed stuffed animal in the shape of a dog, scorched and torn baby clothes, a cracked picture frame. Hannah stood among what remained of the Potters' destroyed home. "What are you doing with this? Where are you taking it?"

"I thought- well, you've only stayed the one night, but I thought you might like to have your own room here," she said. Lily opened her mouth like she was going to continue, but didn't say anything more, seemingly listening for a reaction.

"But what about your things?" Hannah asked, looking around the small room.

Lily's expression didn't change, but her voice wavered on reply. "I c-can't very well look at them anymore, can I?" she said, swallowing heavily. "I used to think that- I wanted to save these, in case-"

Hannah waited, but she couldn't seem to get the words out. A weighty silence fell over the interior of the flat. She didn't know what to say, how to make Miss Lily feel better.

"So, what do you think?" she eventually asked. "I know it's not very big. You probably have a much nicer room at Amelia's."

"It's great," she said. "Let me help you with the rest of your things."

Working together, it didn't take them very long to clear out the room. Several times, she caught Lily wiping her eyes and making frequent complaints about the dust in the air. She felt horrible, like she was doing something awful, something she wasn't supposed to.

"You should probably head back home," she said when they were finished. "I'm having a bed delivered later this week, and you can decorate however you like. We can go shopping and pick out anything you need."

Hannah felt an acute sense of unease. She watched Lily trail her fingertips over the boxes and various items, touching the spines of books and rolls of parchment like she could imbibe the words they contained. "It's still early, I told Miss Vance I'd be back by dinner." She stepped closer, looking inside one of the boxes. "You're not going to get rid of all this, are you?"

"I don't know," she faintly responded. "I- I'm not sure what to do with it."

"Maybe we could sort through it, together, until I have to go?"

"Oh, honey, you don't want to do that-"

"Look!" Hannah interrupted, opening one of the leather-bound books. "It's got pictures, you can't throw this out!"

Lily bit her lip and didn't say anything. Hannah took her by the hand, dragging her over to the loveseat. "Here, let's sit down and look at it together."

"Hannah, I can't…"

"No, it's okay, really!" she said, trying her best to project excitement. In reality, she felt like crying, too. "I'll tell you what the picture looks like, and you can tell me about it, okay?"

Lily let herself be pulled along, and they sat down together. "Okay, this one's from Hogwarts. You were in Gryffindor?"

"I was."

"There's a girl with you, she's a little taller than you and she's got brown hair…"

"Marlene," Lily said quietly. "Marlene MacKinnon. She was one of my roommates. She was killed three years after we graduated."

Hannah hurriedly turned the page. The next photo was of Miss Lily and her husband, their pictured forms holding hands and occasionally kissing the other on the cheek. "Oh, here's Mr. Potter. He looks like he was really nice, and he has such a big smile."

"James was- he was the life of the party. It seemed like the room would brighten when he entered," she quietly remarked. "Even when we didn't get along, it was hard to really dislike him."

"I've seen this before!" Hannah said upon turning to the next page. "This is- it's the Order of the Phoenix!"

"How do you know about that?" Lily asked.

"Neville told me. Susan's dad was in it, he's right here."

"I remember Edgar."

"And here you are, and Mr. Potter. There's Neville's mum and dad. Mr. Moody, and Miss Vance." Hannah stared at the photo for another moment, but when she made to turn the page, Lily reached out and stopped her.

"Wait. There's something I have to tell you."

"Yes? What is it?"

"I need you to promise me you'll keep this a secret. Not even Susan can know." Hannah was quiet for several seconds. "Hannah?"

"I promise," she whispered.

"In that photo, in the Order, there's a man. He- he was wearing a hat that day, I remember. He's skinny, shorter than James, but taller than me. I think he was standing on the edge of the group?"

Hannah's eyes traced over the members of the Order, eventually coming to rest on a scruffy man in a wide-brimmed hat. Every once in a while he'd pull it lower, then the animation would reset and she could see his face again. He looked… scruffy, like the villain in a story book. "I see. Who is he?"

"It's about your parents." Hannah stiffened. "I asked my friend to look into what happened to them."

"What did he find out?" she asked, her fingers trembling as she ran them over the photograph once more.

"Not as much as I wish he would have," Lily said gently. "There are a lot of questions, and that man, in the photo, he very likely has some of the answers."

Hannah stared at the sepia-toned photograph, imprinting his face into her memory. "What's his name?"

"Fletcher. Mundungus Fletcher."

"Very good! You got s-seven out of ten this time!" Sirius watched Harry grin, soaking in the praise from the girl he'd hired to teach him runes.

She hadn't taken the changes all that well, not that he particularly cared. Since the incident following Harry's demonstration, Sirius had adjusted the rules of his son's tutelage. No instructor was allowed to wield a wand within a dozen paces of the boy, and all lessons were supervised by either Dung or one of the mercenaries.

The arithmancy and defence teachers had quit outright rather than submit to the new rules, and Sirius permitted them to leave. That he required them, at wandpoint, to submit to additional secrecy oaths before leaving Blackriver, though, didn't go unnoticed by the rest. He wasn't taking any more chances with Harry's safety.

He made a brief attempt to locate and silence the former charms teacher, but the man had gone to ground. In the end, Sirius didn't have the manpower to control Kitezh, guard Harry, and conduct a search for a man on the run. He could only console himself with the knowledge that, by fleeing in the manner he had, the nondisclosure agreements were never voided.

"Are we done for today?" Harry asked Babbling, waving to Sirius from his seat.

"Sure, of course," she said, gathering her parchment and books. Harry ran over to him, and Sirius nodded to the guard to return Babbling's wand as they left the room.

"How were your lessons today?"

"Fine," Harry said noncommittally.

Sirius held back a smile. Harry's dislike and disdain for learning anything outside of his narrow interests never failed to amuse him; a feature he was positive Harry got from himself, rather than James. "How would you like to visit Kitezh today?"

"Are you serious?!" Harry asked, practically bouncing up and down. "Yes! Can we bring Dung, too?"

"Maybe next time, today let's just make it you and me."

"Okay!" Harry easily agreed, then he abruptly stopped. "Wait, I'll be right back!" He took off running for his room.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but obediently waited for a minute or two. When Harry returned, he was in frayed, worn clothing, with a threadbare woolen cloak. "What are you wearing? Where did you even get that?"

"Dung got it for me!"

"But… why?" Sirius asked.

"When I'm in Calenburg Court, I dress like I'm from Calenburg Court. And when I'm in Kitezh-"

"You dress like you're from Kitezh, I get it." Sirius ruffled Harry's already-messy hair. "It's different than before, kid. You're in for a pleasant surprise."

"I can't wait!"

They walked to the apparition point where Sirius side-alonged him to the town square. "It looks a lot better, doesn't it?"

Harry looked around, taking in the clean streets, the regimented rows of vendors, the citizens quickly moving to and fro under the watchful eyes of his mercenaries. "What happened?"

"I brought order to the Invisible City, rules and laws. It's not like it was."

"Change it back!"

"What? Why?"

"There's no adventures anymore!"

Sirius laughed, picking him and perching him on his shoulders. "Sorry, no can do. It's better this way, safer for everyone." Harry might have muttered something about liking it better before, but Sirius wasn't certain and so he didn't reply.

In truth, he hadn't been entirely sure he would be able to maintain his occupation of the town. The 'professional' wands-for-hire, the ones who'd so efficiently sacked the Invisible City proved far too expensive for him to permanently keep on payroll. The Black fortune was considerable, but not so large he could afford a private army in perpetuity.

Instead, he'd hired less skilled wizards (for lower wages) and put the wizards and witches convicted in his tribunals to work. Prison labour, it turned out, was highly profitable, and the potions and runic etchings Kitezh's former criminal class produced gave Sirius a reliable and steady income stream, one that was sure to only increase as he made more and better trade deals.

"What do you feel like having for dinner?"

"Treacle!"

"Maybe for dessert. Why don't we start with some fish and rice?"

"Fine," Harry grumbled in reply.

Once they were seated in one of the town's taverns, Sirius leaned forward. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Harry tore a chunk of bread off the loaf at the table. "About what?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Sirius said absentmindedly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Mundungus told me something you said to him, awhile back. Something about fairies? About them talking to you?"

The little boy's expression went blank for a moment, then he reached for the butter dish. "Yes."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Harry spread butter on his piece of bread, then set it on his plate without taking a bite. "It really happened. She talked to me. She said we're alike."

"Okay," Sirius said slowly, not wanting to dismiss what he was saying. "What do you think… 'she'... meant by that?"

"You already know," Harry said. "You were my dad's best mate, he must have told you."

He slowly exhaled through his nose, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed Dung told the truth. "Told me what?"

"About my mum. She was a fairy. It's why Meadow could touch me, why she couldn't hurt me. 'Like cannot overcome like'."

Sirius blinked at the child's absolute certainty. "Harry… you're not part-fairy."

"Then why could Meadow touch me and nothing happened, huh?" Harry challenged. "Why do you only talk about my dad? Why aren't there any pictures of my mum?"

He froze, unprepared for the vehemence of Harry's questioning. "Why-" Sirius cleared his throat, more to buy himself time than for any real reason. "How long have you wondered about these things?"

"I don't know," Harry said, his defiance melting away into a quiet melancholy. "Before you hired Hilde, I guess. The other children had mums, but I didn't."

"You have a mother, Harry, and she- she's a human, not a creature."

"Then where is she? What happened to her?"

Their food arrived, sparing Sirius the need for an immediate reply, for a few seconds, at least. "I knew your mother."

Harry's eyes widened, and his little hands squeezed into fists. "Who was-, how… what happened to her?" It was like his questions jumbled together and spilled out simultaneously.

"Your dad, James, I promised him I would take care of you if anything ever happened. That I would love you like you were my own. And I do love you. You're the best son I could have ever hoped for." Harry was quiet, tears welling up in his vibrant green eyes.

Sirius felt his throat grow tight, words failing him. What could he say? After everything Harry went through this year, from being forced out of Hanover to losing Hilde and Mipsy, did he really need to learn the truth about Lily's actions before his father's death? He had to blink back tears of his own.

"Please don't be sad," Harry whispered, concern etched on his face. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," Sirius said. "It's okay. I promise, I'll tell you about your mother when you're older. Just- not now, alright? Let's worry about the future before we talk about the past."

Harry nodded, and they picked at their dinner, neither able to muster much of an appetite, but for drastically different reasons.

October 31, 1988

"There's someone here to see you," the patronus said, reciting its message. "We're at the main gates."

He waved his wand, checking the time, eyebrows raising at the hour. How unusual, for a visitor to come calling now. Throwing a dressing gown over his pyjamas, he pulled on a mismatched pair of socks and slipped on some shoes before beginning the long trek to answer his summons.

Minerva and Hagrid were waiting, standing alongside a third individual. Albus could clearly see the anxiety radiating from the man's posture, his nervous energy transforming to relief as he caught sight of his approach.

"At last!"

"Hello," he greeted in a neutral tone. "Have we met?"

"Only once," the man stated, "Long, long ago. I have travelled far to speak with you, it is of the utmost urgency."

Minerva's eyes shot back and forth between the man and Albus, and he gave her a calming smile. "I'm afraid I don't recall our introduction, Mister…?"

"My name is Armin."

"That's not a family name," Minerva interjected.

The man shook his head. "No, no it's not. I will tell you anything you wish to know, but only if you agree to speak with me in private!"

He was clearly distressed, and the hour was late. Albus was not inclined to bring such a man into a castle full of sleeping children. "Hagrid, might I impose upon you to borrow a carriage? Perhaps my brother would be willing to provide us with refreshments."

"Yessir, Headmaster, sir!" The gentle half-giant hurried away, returning in a matter of minutes with a thestral-drawn carriage. Albus watched the man reach out to one of the skeletal horses, his hand pausing only inches away.

'Interesting.'

"Shall we?"

The man entered first, and as soon as Albus closed the door behind them the thestrals set off at a brisk canter. "So, Armin-"

"Krafft. My family name is Krafft."

Albus' eyes locked onto him, and the man shivered at his glare. "I remember that name."

"He was my older brother," Krafft said. "I- I was young, not much more than a child. I didn't believe the stories, or… or maybe I couldn't believe them. No one would willingly accept their blood was capable of such monstrosity."

Albus said nothing, staring as the carriage rocked along the dirt road to Hogsmeade.

"I hold no ill will towards you. If you hadn't killed him, my brother would only have brought more misery into the world."

"You claimed we met?"

"Only once. I was lucky to escape your notice-" he paused as the carriage came to a halt. "Are we safe here?"

"Mr. Krafft, forgive my immodesty, but there is no harm that can befall you at my side."

"Until this summer, I might have believed that to be true."

Albus stroked his beard, pondering that statement, then knocked on the door to his brother's tavern. It opened almost immediately, despite being several hours past closing.

'Abe always was a night owl.'

"Al? What do you want?"

"Merely shelter on this All Hallow's Eve, brother, and perhaps something to warm our bellies?"

Aberforth grunted, but opened the door and allowed them entrance, closing and locking it behind them. Albus and his guest settled into a booth, waiting in silence until Abe brought them a bottle of whiskey for Krafft and a cup of tea for Albus.

"Well? You have my attention."

"As you know, I served the Dark Lord in my youth. My brother was one of his most faithful, and he recruited me into the Acolytes' ranks. Our meeting, such as it was, came at Nurmengard. I hid amongst the rubble, witness to your battle."

"Go on."

"I did not come for absolution, but you should know that, just like yourself, I have devoted my life after the war to the training and guidance of future generations. I attained the level of Master in Charms, and have taught students across the Continent ever since." Krafft poured a hefty amount of whiskey and tossed it back in a single gulp. "It was my last position, instructing the child of a wealthy lord, that brings me to you on this night."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Albus said, sipping at his tea.

"The child, he-" Krafft seemed to struggle to speak for a moment. He cursed, long and colourfully, poured a refill and threw it back, then cursed some more. "Blasted secrecy oaths! If only there was a way…"

Albus sighed, pushing away his tea. "Mr. Krafft, the hour is dreadfully late."

"Wait! You can't- I haven't even told you why I've come!"

"A fact I'm well aware of," was his droll reply.

"Listen to me, please! This student, he-" Krafft again struggled to get the words out. "The Dark Lord's power- I saw it when I was a boy. The purple light, the madness! It exists today! My student-" he fell silent once more.

He sat straight in his seat, suddenly tense. "Tell me more."

"I cannot! I am bound by oath, not to disclose information about my client! If only there were some way I could show you!"

"I may have such a way," Albus said. "Wait here." He rose, striding over to Aberforth's hearth, tossing a pinch of powder into the flames and calling out his office's address.

He returned not more than a minute later, cradling the large stone pensieve in his arms. "Hold still," he instructed, putting his wand to the man's temple and ordering him to summon the memory he wished to share. Without further preamble, Albus dipped his head into the basin.

The roar of a river sounded all around him, standing amidst a crowd of men and women, all watching a woman instructing a child on the tenets of inanimate to inanimate transfiguration. The child's face was obscured, blurred beyond any hope of recognition.

'The work of the secrecy oaths, no doubt'

Albus watched the child attempt and fail to transfigure the fork, keeping his eyes locked on the small figure as the teacher approached the rest of the adults. A vivid purple glow appeared at the tip of the child's unusual wand, followed a second later by the familiar wave of chaotic energy.

"It can't be…" he muttered to himself as he ended the memory. "It- it can't happen, not again!"

"You recognised it, did you not?" Krafft asked urgently, gesturing with his empty glass. "The surge of wild magic, it's the same as- it's just like…"

"Grindelwald. Yes."

"For all of our sake, for the child's sake, I attempted to put him down, but I failed."

Albus winced. "He is but a boy, perhaps… perhaps…"

Krafft pursed his lips, shrugging with one shoulder. "You knew the Dark Lord longer than I did. By the time that the chaos surged from within him, was there any possibility he could have turned away from its embrace?"

A long silence passed. "No. There was not."

"Then I fear you should begin your preparations now, sir." He poured himself a more measured drink and finished it, standing on unsteady legs. "I have decided to pursue new opportunities, far from Europe. We will not meet again."

"I understand," Albus said. "Tell me one last thing, before you go. From whence does this memory come?"

Krafft's mouth worked for several seconds, attempting to answer. Eventually, he simply settled on, "To the east."

Dumbledore remained in the bar, alone, staring at the memory swirling in his pensieve long after the sun rose.

A/N: Hello! I am still alive! I took a bit of a break from fanfiction, checked out for a bit. You all know how it is, we're all just treading water (probably).

Is your interest piqued? Curiosity inflamed? Or do you just want me to get back to writing AMR? :D

This was a meaty chapter. 7k words, longest of this story! And, most likely, one of the longest there will be for this story! The good news is, the introduction is finally over! Woo! Next chapter, we'll be picking up in the 1990s. I'll miss writing Harry and Hannah as little kids. They're both very endearing in their individual ways.

I wonder if anyone has looked up the DnD guidebook I am pulling from (mentioned in the first chapter). If so, you've probably got a good idea of what's coming (so... spoilers, I guess?).Hit me with some reviews! Til next time,

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles