So here I am, already trying to save people. Though I'm not sure Sirius will succeed.

Chapter 3: This ghostly and ghastly state

Sirius was hungry, terribly hungry, but no one would give him food.

After all, he was only a stray – and vaguely terrifying, too – dog in Hogsmeade.

Padfoot looked piteous, though. It wouldn't have been a surprise to anyone who would have known his story. Not that anyone did. If someone had known... Let's only say he wouldn't be here.

The animagus had spent twelve years in Azkaban, and saying the prison was horrible was an understatement. Still, somehow, he had escaped, alone, an exploit no one had ever managed to accomplish in wizarding history. Underfed, basically left to rot in a prison where the only living presences were those of the prisoners and of the dementors – considering the dementors were living beings, which was not sure at all – Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot, had fallen into a state of continued survival.

Then he had seen on a photograph the damned traitor, the loathsome rat, the one and only Peter Pettigrew... Wormtail.

And the rat was going to Hogwarts, where Harry would be too. There was no way Sirius could allow that to happen. So he had escaped. Lack of food, dementors once again, lack of food, cold, lack of food, escaping the Ministry, lack of food, lack of food, lack of food... And there he was, back in Hogsmeade, living on rats and scraps of food he shared with a hippogriff.

Quite humorously, the hippogriff, Buckbeak, had been sentenced to death, like Sirius had been sentenced with a life-long stay in Azkaban, both of those sentences being undeserved – and both of them had escaped their fate.

But for now, Sirius' fate was coming back to him, as he was seriously believing he'd starve to death even before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.

The animagus sat down.

He was hungry, cold, hot too, feverish, in a way, and worst of all, he was worried.

Harry was in danger, he knew it, and...

Nevermind, food coming this way. Quick, to make a good impression.

Padfoot rushed to the lone woman walking in the cold of February. The second task had been held the week prior, and if at the time many people had come to Hogwarts, hence, to Hogsmeade, now the visitors were scarce. The animagus usually managed to snatch some food from the villagers' bins, but the villagers themselves didn't like him. At first they had been nice, giving him scraps of food, but with time, they had grown wary of the big black dog that looked too much like a grim to their liking. Why, he wasn't sure. Anyway, that meant he was getting less and less food. Passing by visitors, on the other hand, had this habit of feeding him.

Maybe this young woman would do the same.

She first flinched when she saw him, unsure of what to do with the enormous dog running towards her, but finally she smiled and searched her pockets for something to give it. Sure, the dog was big, but it seemed underfed if anything.

Padfoot did a number on her, gentle whines, puppy eyes, rolling on his back, look-I'-m-so-cute, and soon enough the young woman was hugging him fondly. Sirius was a bit bewildered, he hadn't been expecting this much, but well. It was nice, why would he complain?

After a while she reluctantly let go of him, smiled and whispered, as if in confidence.

"Wait here, I'll get you something to eat."

Padfoot's ears moved accordingly to the proposition, clearly interested, and the woman laughed. Then she left for the Three Broomsticks Inn.

When she came back, she had a meat pie with her. A meat pie! Sirius began to drool. A meat pie... If the young woman didn't have a thing for dogs, then he didn't know what to think of her.

She watched him as he cautiously sniffed the treat, then gluttonously gulped it.

Padfoot wondered if it was time for a good licking. He didn't know her, after all, and he didn't want to drive her away. Eventually, he decided it wasn't a good idea.

"I don't know where you come from, but you look like you're in bad health..."

Padfoot nodded at that. Then he realized what he had just done, and looked cautiously at the young woman. She was certainly surprised, but seemed more amused than suspicious. Her green eyes were twinkling with joy. She had beautiful eyes, he mused. If he had been in human form, and not a wanted fugitive, he'd definitely have flirted with her.

"What if I took you with me? You surely need to eat more, and I guess you have a few fleas, but..."

What fleas?! Sirius Black, having fleas? Never!

Wait, that wasn't the most important part...

Sirius opened his eyes. He was feeling groggy, and wasn't sure of what was going on. There certainly wasn't a white room in Grimmauld Place. So he wasn't home...

The wizard jumped out of bed as soon as he understood that he wasn't anywhere he was meant to be. Considering the Ministry wanted him dead – oh sorry, soulless, my bad, not the same thing at all – he might be in great danger. What if the house owner had called the Ministry?

Then it came back to him.

The Department of Mysteries, the Veil, Voldemort, the Atrium, the Reciprocation Curse, Bellatrix...

"'Took your time, didn't you, Sirius?"

Said man froze. He knew that voice, and it simply couldn't be. Had it all been a dream? Had he... had he been captured by some Death Eater, had Bellatrix asked for a favor, taken him with her in order to torture him with dreams of hope and brutal awakenings?

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, chill out, cousin. It's not like I could kill you."

Sirius gulped down his fears and turned to face Bellatrix.

Or at least, Bellatrix's ghost.

Sure, this way, she'd have a hard time if she tried to kill him.

The wizard stayed silent for a long time as he watched the ghost with interest. All this was so ludicrous, it couldn't be real, so maybe it was only another dream. And if it was a dream, he could be curious about this very unsettling ghost of an even more unsettling woman who had been his cousin.

After a short time to adjust to the transparency and light grey glow of the ghost, Sirius could tell that Bellatrix looked younger, a bit more sane, maybe, and certainly not as frightening as before. She had this strong jaw as always, the freaking patrician beauty of the Blacks, but she looked... nicer than before. Maybe death had removed her insanity, or at least the part that came from the repeated use of the Dark Arts and her time in Azkaban. Sirius wished it had, because if she was to stick around as a ghost and maybe haunt him, it'd be better if she was only annoying about blood purity, as she had been as a teenager, over being completely mad about Voldepants and how every halfblood and muggleborn and muggle should just die already.

The wizard cleared his throat, still unsure of what to say.

"What are you doing here?"

The ghost woman rolled her eyes.

"I'm haunting you."

"Great. And to what do I owe the honor?"

"You killed me."

So it hadn't been a dream.

"Every person I killed isn't haunting me, as far as I know, or else I would have had a cohort of Death Eaters ghosts behind me for sixteen years. So I'm asking you again. Why are you haunting me? I don't believe you're one to fear death."

Bellatrix sat down in the air. It was strange to see.

"You used the Reciprocation Curse, Sirius. My life is yours, your death is mine. We're linked. As long as you live, I'm stuck here. By the way, congratulations for your coming over to the dark side."

The wizard grunted something rude.

"Calm down, seriously. It's not as if I'd said you had gone to the Dark Lord. I'm only stating a fact: you accepted your... natural skills with the Dark Arts. You can do whatever you want with them, I don't really care. I'm dead, after all. You'll feel better if you don't fight them, you know. I'm not saying you have to use them, though. Only, don't fight what you are."

It was weird, suspicious, highly distressing to hear the Dark Arts maniac Bellatrix Lestrange talking about being in harmony with oneself. If she was going to be this nice, maybe Sirius should better be wary of the ghost, or she'd find a way to lead him to the dark side of the war in no time, and without him suspecting anything.

Or maybe she was being genuine. Even more terrifying if this was the case.

"It's the same for your... half-breed friend. He'd feel better if he wasn't in denial. I know, I've seen Greyback, and I can say the monster is certainly not looking ill."

There was a sneer in her tone, when she talked about werewolves, so Sirius guessed she was still Bellatrix Black, a witch with a terrible superiority complex, but at least she wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange anymore, the mad killer and torturer.

And now that the wizard was thinking about it, she wasn't wrong. Fenrir Greyback, if he didn't look like a civilized human being – because he wasn't one – didn't seem to be half as sick as other werewolves. Of course, Sirius doubted that fully accepting their nature would have a werewolf suddenly beaming and healthy, but it was true that depression wasn't helping. Many werewolves were in a more or less severe state of constant depression.

The man sat back on the bed, a bit distressed.

This was too much.

Or, in other words, what had he done?

Since he couldn't undo his own doing, he decided to take a look around.

First thing, the door was locked. It wasn't reassuring, but he couldn't change that, since he didn't have his wand with him. Well, he could, but... Next, the room was small, with only his bed in it, and what looked like... restricting devices? That was getting creepy.

Sirius walked to the small window, and carefully touched the glass. Immediatly, he felt a rattle against his fingers. Wards. He got closer, but made sure he wasn't anywhere near the glass. The outside of the building he was in was a busy street, which reminded him of...

The man turned to see Bellatrix floating in mid air with a bored look on her face.

"Is it St. Mungo's?"

The ghost grinned and snapped her fingers.

"Jackpot!"

She was annoying, but he didn't care. If he was in St. Mungo's... It meant that the Ministry had him in custody, but, at least, he hadn't been Kissed or sent back to Azkaban right away. Maybe he'd live to see brighter days.

"Why isn't there someone watching me?"

"Arrogant."

Sirius grabbed his pillow and threw it through the ghost. Bella winced and retaliated by passing through him, leaving the wizard shivering. No one liked being passed through by a ghost.

"Prat."

"Oh shut up. You know what I mean. Fudge has been saying for years I'm a freaking mass murderer and a follower of your Dark Bastard and even though it's not true in the slightest, I used some very dark magic to stay alive just recently. He's not likely to leave me alone. Moreover, I'm sure I was in a dreadful situation when they sent me here. A healer should be here, if not a guard."

"You've been inconscious for fourteen days, cousin. You've missed some things."

"Such as?"

"Fudge isn't Minister for Magic anymore. Scrimgeour is."

Sirius shrugged. It wasn't exactly surprising. After all, if Fudge had nothing to do with Voldemort's return, he still had endangered the wizarding world by denying it for a whole year. But if Rufus Scrimgeour had been appointed Minister, Sirius wasn't sure it would do him any good for all that. Scrimgeour was an auror before anything else. While they had met during Sirius' years as an auror in training, the new Minister had come to Azkaban to see him one week after his jailing and hadn't hidden his disdain. Scrimgeour had never believed him to be, not even possibly, innocent.

Well, it wasn't as if he had been the only one.

"I'll have to play smart if I don't want to end up in Azkaban once more... anything else?"

"Many things, but I don't know half of it. I wasn't eager to go outside since, you know, I'm Bellatrix bloody Lestrange, and the Ministry has means to hurt even a ghost. I've been hiding in this room since I found you, and when people came in, I stuck myself to the ceiling."

It made Sirius laugh, but soon enough he was back to thinking. He had a lot of things to do if he wanted to stay alive, and having a ghost Bella by his side certainly wasn't a convincing point in his campaign.

First of all, he needed to find an attorney. But none would hear him out, and if ever one would, he was likely to use his imprisonment and his family background in a way Sirius wouldn't like. Actually, it'd be better if he could be his own advocate.

"I'll take a truth serum, but certainly not veritaserum. I guess I could ask the greasy git if there is one who forces you to say the truth, but doesn't force you to talk. They would be willing to ask questions I certainly don't want to answer, and if they see that I'm talking while not being forced to, it could work in my favor. Now, there is the issue of what I'd be willing to answer."

He had begun to talk in a whisper, and soon enough Bella was in his back, trying to overhear while not making him aware of her listening. It wasn't easy: after all she was a ghost. And a ghost had this unpleasant habit of cooling the air.

So of course, Sirius knew she was here.

Why he wasn't saying anything for now was beyond her.

Bellatrix would have sighed if she hadn't been trying to play it discreet. Was she going to report to the Dark Lord after that? At first, she had been eager to serve him even in death, but now... What had he done for her? Cruciatus curses after Cruciatus curses, only her madness had prevented her from leaving him and his sorry arse behind. Now, she was sane, and dead. He couldn't kill her, and she knew what she had done wrong.

Sure, the purebloods were superior to others, wizards and muggles alike. But was defending their purity worth killing and torturing? When she had joined the Dark Lord, she had believed she'd be using the Unforgivable Curses only once in a while, as a last resort. But soon, it had become a habit.

Bellatrix still didn't believe the Dark Lord to be wrong in his ideals, but... but she now saw he left a lot to be desired in his ways. And she also had some doubts about those ideals of his. In the end, wasn't the Dark Lord only seeking power?

If he hadn't been... then why had they killed so many purebloods? Not only the blood traitors, but also their own, when they made mistakes?

What about Regulus?

Bella wasn't sure how she felt about Regulus now. The young man had followed her in the worship of the Dark Lord, and had had doubts in the end, causing him to die an awful death if what the Dark Lord had said had been true. But Regulus was a kid. If the Dark Lord had forgiven him, maybe Sirius' young brother would have been more loyal than ever. And the Dark Lord hadn't.

What did Sirius think of Regulus? After all, he had finally seen the light – not that Bella was convinced, herself – and for that, he had died. Had he earned the respect of his brother, at last? Or had Sirius only thought he had it coming? She was curious, but wouldn't dare to ask. Not now, not here. Someday, maybe, but not now.

Thinking about her family made her think of Narcissa and her son, Draco. The boy was his father's portrait, and yet she could see the softer side he had inherited from Narcissa. Bellatrix had never bothered to ask her youngest sister what she thought of the Dark Lord. Not that she would have talked in honesty, the ghost thought with an ache in her heart. If Narcissa hadn't been so fond of the Dark Lord's ways, her insane sister might have been able to go to the Dark Lord and report it to him. Even worst, she might have killed her own sister without remorse. If Narcissa hadn't shared her point of view... she'd never have told her.

Her mind wandered to Andromeda.

This sister was a touchy problem to think about. Now that she had all her mind, Bella couldn't say she hadn't missed the witch. She still despised her choice to marry a mudblood, but... Andromeda was her sister, her husband was Bella's brother-in-law, and her daughter was the ghost's niece, even if she tried to deny it. The whole disowning thing couldn't truly sever their blood ties.

Bellatrix shuddered. She had seen, worse, she had tried to kill her own niece in the Death Chamber, barely two week ago. The girl, Nymphadora Tonks if she was right, despite being a halfblood, was powerful, and had the incredible gift of being a metamorphmagus. If the Tonks blood had been so dirty... How could the daughter be this incredible? Bella had to admit, as much as she hated it: halfbloods and muggleborns weren't so appalling to magic itself as they were to purebloods...

How had she become so blind?

Sirius' sarcastic tone drew her back to reality.

"If you want to spy on me and then report to Voldepants, Bella, I think you ought to be a bit more discreet."

The ghost blinked and then noticed she had halfway fallen through her cousin while thinking. He was glaring at her and shuddering at the same time. She quickly floated away.

"Sorry. I was thinking. And I'm still not used to the whole ghost thing."

He arched an amused eyebrow and decided to dive back under the sheets of the bed. He was cold, now, very cold, and he didn't want her to see his face as he thought. There had been something about her face, her expression, that looked like she was regretting something. And Bellatrix Lestrange knew no remorse. But Bellatrix Black...

"Bella?"

He smirked when he saw her startled. His cousin seemed to be worrying about something, and that wasn't like her. Maybe she missed the Dark Bastard?

The ghost glared at him and harrumphed.

"What?"

"Are you still a crazy bitch with homicidal tendencies?"

Bella squinted her eyes at that. Bloody Gryffindor.

No, in fact, bloody Sirius Black. She still wasn't sure if her cousin hadn't been missorted by the Sorting Hat. He was a Black after all, and even Andromeda had ended up in Slytherin, despite her point of view about blood purity and everything else.

Bellatrix knew better than to consider Sirius a perfect Gryffindor. The boy had always been vicious, if courageous as a red and gold idiot, if loyal as a yellow and black loser. Sirius Black, as she had known him since his birth, was a brave, loyal, clever and cunning Black. Not the typical Black, certainly, but he could have fit in any of the four Houses of Hogwarts. Maybe he had been braver than cunning, clever or loyal, and that had him sent to Gryffindor. Maybe not.

She thought back to several discussions with fellow Death Eaters. They had all considered her cousin to be a blood traitor, no surprise here, but also an idiot with no idea of what was subtlety.

They were the idiots.

The Marauders, minus the rat, might have outsmarted half of the Slytherin House during their stay at Hogwarts. How many times had a Slytherin been the victim of their pranks without even knowing what had happened to them? Of course, when a prank was played on a member of the silver and green House, three chances out of four was that the Marauders were the culprits. But how many times had they been caught? Almost never. James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had been more cunning than many members of Bellatrix's own House, that was a fact. And when knowing that Slytherin had been Crabbe and Goyle's House, it wasn't so surprising.

Bellatrix knew for a fact that being in a particular House didn't mean one was especially clever, cunning, loyal or brave. It only meant they were more clever, cunning, loyal or brave than any of the three other qualities. If not, people such as Crabbe, Goyle, or Pettigrew, would never have been sorted, unworthy of any House.

No, Sirius Black wasn't a perfect Gryffindor. But being as courageous as he was might have made him more dangerous than any of the other family members.

After all, if he wasn't out there hexing and killing muggles, muggles lovers, mudbloods and blood traitors during the First War, it wasn't because he was unable to do it. It was because he didn't hold the same ideals the Death Eaters held.

Killing? Sirius was more than able to do it. Seven Death Eaters had suffered his wrath, sixteen years before. And when Bellatrix had arrived at the scene, it had been anything but pretty.

And he had killed her, hadn't he?

"Even if I was a 'crazy bitch with homicidal tendencies', Sirius, I don't think I'd be able to do much in this ghostly and ghastly state."

"You could still go and babble everything you hear to your lovely Dark Bastard."

"I won't."

Sirius wasn't impressed with her statement. A sane Bellatrix meant a Bellatrix able to lie.

"Why should I believe you?"

The ghost snorted.

"You shouldn't. But as surprising as it may be, being saner made me wonder about what I had lost, and I suddenly feel the urge to talk to Andromeda again. Which I won't be able to do if I'm still serving the Dark Lord, as she's a blood traitor and her husband is a filthy mudblood. Worse, I'm even feeling the need to get to know my niece, even though she's an auror, and a halfblood. If I didn't know that death usually gives back one's sanity, I'd say I am becoming mad now and I was completely sane before."

Sirius was staring at her, wide-eyed.

This was surprising. But he wasn't going to approve of her for all that. After all, she could be lying. As she had said, death made people – or more accurately, ghosts – a bit saner if they had been insane. It also made them realize a lot of other things. The past Bellatrix Lestrange would never have sullied herself with a lie about her point of view on muggles and blood purity, not even for the sake of the bloody slytherin cunning. The present, dead Bellatrix, had been changed by death.

So he simply said his mind about her choice of words.

"Stop saying 'blood traitor' and 'mudblood', you'll make me sick with your prejudices."

The dead witch hovered over him so that he couldn't not see her face.

"I will use whichever words I like, Sirius. If you don't like me saying -"

Both of them looked startled.

Bellatrix was reaching for her throat, but no matter what she did, she couldn't say the damned words. Other words were possible, but these two specific words wouldn't be said using her voice.

"What did you do, you mutt?!"

Sirius didn't look very pleased with her insult, but a feral grin was forming on his face as a theory made his way to his brain. If he was right, the future with his new roommate was going to be fun, and he wouldn't have to worry too much about his cousin reporting to the Dark Bastard.

"I see Snivellus and you have talked... No matter, no matter. From now on, you will call me 'Oh so good and magnanimous master'."

"As if I'm ever going to say that, oh so good and magnanimous master!"

The ghost barricaded her mouth with her hands as soon as the hated words had gone through her lips. What was wrong with her?!

"Oh, you will, Bella, you will. Well, for now, at least. I'll surely grow tired of it by the end of the week. Now, do a back somersault, dear."

Bellatrix complied, to her utter horror.

Sirius barked a laugh. This was too much.

"The great and noble Bellatrix Lestrange, submitted to my good will! That's a good one. I hope you're not too angry, Bella, that I can use you like a house-elf. Well, I guess not exactly, because you wouldn't be able to wash the dishes as a ghost, but still..."

The witch tried to strangle her cousin, but she only succeeded in given him the chills, what he didn't forget to tell her. When he calmed down, which took some time, and when she calmed down, which took even more time, Sirius began to consider the ghost a bit more seriously.

"Anyway, back to business. You won't report to your Dark Lord, to any Death Eater, and, more generally, you won't say a thing that could endanger my life, my position, or my interests to anyone without my permission. For now, I'll ask of you to stay hidden when someone come to see me unless I say otherwise, for I don't want to be sent back to Azkaban, while I believe many are eager to see me gone. Oh, and if you could go and take a look outside, I'd like to know if there is anyone keeping an eye on me before sneaking out."

Bellatrix grunted but did as she was told, for she had no other choice. Whoever had created the Blacks' Reciprocation Curse be damned.

Still, she somehow felt proud of Sirius. Her young cousin was certainly unnerving and cheeky, but he had a brain and knew how to use it. Moreover, the witch was feeling a bit relieved he had forbidden her from resuming her Death Eater activities even as a ghost. She was still torn between her loyalty to the Dark Lord and what her newly found sanity had revealed to her.

She passed through the wall, and looked around quickly, making sure nobody saw her, before scanning the corridor a bit more slowly. Once done, she went back to report.

"There's a young woman sitting near the door, but she seems to be sleeping."

Sirius frowned. Getting out of the room was going to be hard enough without someone watching over him. Granted, it was St. Mungo's, not Azkaban, but here he couldn't pass between the bars since there were no bars. And same as during his time in jail, he had no wand.

"She's what, a guard?"

"I don't think so. She didn't look like an auror, that's for sure, but...Wait a minute."

Bellatrix went back in the corridor, and got as close as she could to the woman without waking her up. She was certain she had already seen this face somewhere.

The ghost refrained a gasp.

When Sirius saw her passing through the wall once more, the dead witch was shaking her head in disbelief. Curious, he asked her what that was about.

"You got yourself the very Eleanor Rowle to guard you."

The wizard tensed when he heard the witch's last name. Rowle wasn't exactly good news for a member of the Order of the Phoenix. But Bella looked as surprised as he was, and she wasn't particularly smug or happy, so he guessed she hadn't been expecting this.

"Rowle as in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Rowle?"

There was a hint of disgust in his voice as he said the whole name.

"Eleanor. Niece to the Lord of the House of Rowle. Not keen on the Dark Arts, if that's what makes you angry. And yes, a pureblood. Maybe she wants to marry you, who know? It'd be good, we'd have more pureblooded offsprings for the House of Black."

Bella had ended her tirade on a mocking tone, and hadn't been fast enough to avoid Sirius' pillow. Apparently she'd have to deal with the pillow more often than with her cousin.

"Come on, you can't take a joke, can you?"

"Don't be annoying, Bella. I've been disowned, anyway, and no Rowle would want to marry the blood traitor Sirius Black. And I don't do arranged marriage."

"Disowned... you weren't listening the other day, were you?"

The man growled. Of course, he had been listening, and worse, he remembered, but he wasn't going to say it to the ghost. The House of Black had ended years ago, with Regulus' death. The Blacks were history, and nothing more. The wretched, wicked, damned House of Black was gone. And it was all for the better.

Bella glared at her cousin. The wizard was being stubborn, and nothing else. He didn't want to admit who he was. And here she had been thinking that, since he had finally accepted what he was, it would go smoothly. But no. Being a Black was seemingly worse than being a dark wizard – sorry, a wizard with a gift concerning the Dark Arts – in Sirius' mind. Bella wondered why.

It didn't take her much time to remember how Walburga, Sirius' and Regulus' mother – and thus her aunt – had been with her eldest son. How Orion, the boys' father, hadn't quite intervened nor defended Sirius from his wife's wrath. How more than half of the family, herself included, had rejected the boy when he had been sorted in Gryffindor.

Sirius had always been different, a bit strange according to the Black type, but he hadn't always been so distant. A first offense had driven him away. Him challenging the family's ways had angered Walburga Black. Which had triggered a second offense. Which had gotten him to despise his own family. And soon it had all been a downward spiral.

But at first, the boy had loved his brother, his cousins to a lesser extent, even his parents. He had stayed in good terms with Andromeda, with Alphard, with Lucretia, with all those who hadn't gone to the Dark Lord or tried to talk him into doing the same. But no one, amongst the "better" Blacks, had tried to get him back with anything else than violence or disdain over his own ideals.

They had led the boy to drift apart, and then had called him a traitor.

It wasn't much of a surprise he wanted nothing to do with the House of Black.

"Oh so good and magnanimous master."

The man was standing in front of the door, his hand stretched toward the handle, and muttering. To Bellatrix' great surprise, the lock clicked open after a while. Sirius left without another word, and Bella decided to stay silent as long as they were in the corridors of the hospital. Neither of them wanted to attract attention.

They were on the fourth floor, in a special area that hadn't been used much since Voldemort's fall in 1981: the dark spells ward. When Sirius ignored the stairs, the ghost knew where he was headed. She couldn't say it pleased her, but she couldn't do anything to stop him.

At some point Sirius stole a wand from a healer passing by, too busy and worried about some head injury to notice who exactly he had passed by. They were hiding behind a flowerpot, and Bella took the opportunity to ask him what he was planning to do exactly. The wizard told her to shut up, waited for two visitors to walk away, then transfigurated his clothes into a healer uniform and his hair color into a bright ginger. Only after doing that he finally rolled his eyes and answered.

"Frank and Alice Longbottom, rings any bell? Tortured to insanity with the Cruciatus curse by Crouch Jr, your brother-in-law, your husband, and, oh wait, you."

The dead witch winced at that. Sure, she hadn't forgotten. After all, it was the penultimate thing she had done before being sent to Azkaban. The last thing had been spitting on Crouch Sr. as she had been taken away after her trial.

"I'm not exactly proud of it. After all, they are purebloods, despite being -. Seriously, can't you lift this ban? I can't even finish my sentences! Anyway, I was being loyal to the Dark Lord and I believed they knew where he was."

More like, she wasn't proud of her actions at all, but there was no way in hell she'd ever tell Sirius.

The wizard snorted.

"They were my friends, Bella. Now they're as good as vegetables. But I'm going to change that."

Bellatrix looked at him in disbelief. If the healers of St. Mungo's hadn't been able to do anything, what did he believe he could do?

Sirius made sure no one was coming their way and started walking to the Janus Thickey ward again, following the information signs. They had to be quick, it was almost noon, and a healer would soon bring the patients their meals.

"You truly think you can do something for them?"

Sirius stayed silent until they reached the special ward. There, he forced the door with the same wandless spell from before, an aria dating back to the Marauders years.

There wasn't the shadow of a healer or a mediwitch around, but the ward wasn't quiet for all that. It was already quite surprising to have met so few staff members on the way here, but he mused there may have been some kind of incident, or maybe it was his lucky day.

Sirius looked around. Each patient had been separated with curtains, but he could hear quite distinctively someone babbling about bunnies and strawberries in the back of the room, while some masculine voice was imitating the sound of a car engine. A blond man pushed his curtain aside and looked curiously at the newcomers. He was a bit like a child in his behavior, and pouted when Sirius ignored him. The wizard and his ghost of a cousin walked slowly in the middle of the room, trying to guess which curtain would open to reveal the Longbottoms.

A feminin voice was heard from the right side of the room, and Sirius instantly hid behind the closest curtains. The words the voice said were not only the proof of their owner's sanity, but also proved the witch to be a healer. So much for not seeing any staff members around.

Sirius sighed in relief, then listened as the healer talked to some Gilderoy Lockhart about not leaving the room to sign autographs on his own. He guessed he'd need some luck if he wanted to do what he was planning to do and not be found and sent back to Azkaban without asking.

He looked around to see whose space he had entered, and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized the two faces of the Longbottoms looking at him shyly.

Sirius took a deep breath, then opened his eyes once again. Alice and Frank. They hadn't physically changed much from fourteen years prior, though they looked a bit older, but their eyes were those of scared kids. The wizard gritted his teeth and sent Bella a murderous glare.

The ghost was looking elsewhere, feeling genuinely uncomfortable. Being sane wasn't always easy. Before, she could simply ignore her deeds, and even rejoice from the suffering she inflicted. And if remorse reached her... she only had to go and torture someone to ignore the guilt.

Sirius cast a Muffliato charm and set up wards – the emergency ones they learned as aurors – to prevent anyone from walking onto them. What he was planning to do was totally illegal and if he could help it, he'd rather have no one knowing about it. Hell, he wasn't even sure it would work.

"Since you asked, dear cousin, I'm going to undo the damage you did to their minds."

His statement startled Bellatrix, who had half-forgotten about her question.

"You can't undo that!"

Sirius sneered and walked to the two patients, who cried in fear and tried to hide in each other's arms. The man almost stopped when he saw their reactions, but he convinced himself he was doing this for the best. He lifted the stolen wand, considered it for a while, then turned to his cousin.

"Twelve years in Azkaban with the freaking dementors gave me time to think about the human mind. You and your Death Eaters friends were completely out of it or even crazy, but I wasn't. Knowing I was innocent, knowing Peter was still outside, in a position to act if ever he had a reason to, and being an anigamus, helped me into staying sane for so long. So I have ruminated for years, brooded a lot and thought as much."

The ghost nodded. She guessed what her cousin was saying made sens. She had been in a haze for years, but if she hadn't, maybe she could have thought too. About her life, what she had chosen over what she had given up... Exactly what she had been doing since her death and her coming back as a ghost, she realized.

Sirius continued. He had been alone in that Azkaban cell for too long, and now, he talked as much as he could when he felt in safe company. Thinking that he was doing it with Bellatrix of all people was a bit disturbing, but he knew death had changed her, and anyway, she couldn't go against his word. She was, as surprising as it could be, a safe individual to talk to.

"If the Cruciatus curse can make one insane, it's because the pain is too much for the mind to go on. So the brain cuts off all communication to salvage the mind. The short-term memory is the only thing left, with the instincts. Once it's done, the brain has no way to know if the danger is gone or not. But what if one could call back the mind? What if I could convince their minds to reach for their brains and ask them to set them free once again? After all... their brains only need to know they can safely reactivate their minds."

Bella crooked an eyebrow. She wasn't daft, so she knew Sirius was right, or at least she agreed with him on the effects of the Cruciatus curse. She had seen it put into use, she has used it, she had suffered it often enough to know how it worked.

"You just said the mind is locked away by the brain, so I don't see how you're supposed to reach it."

The ghost shivered as she studied Sirius' face.

The man was smiling in a strange way – a creepy, hateful way. Last time she had seen this smile, Sirius had been seven years old, and had used dark magic for the first time. It was the smile he used when he knew he had no other choice than to do something prohibited, something tremendous.

It wasn't a happy smile, but a self-loathing smile. An unpleasant facial expression for anyone who knew how the wizard felt about what he was planning to do. But more than all of this, it was the smile of a determined man, who wouldn't hesitate to do what had to be done. It was the Black smile of a Black who wished to be someone else.

Once again, Bellatrix wondered why they had cast Sirius aside. He was different, and so what? He was still a Black. And perhaps – only perhaps – he had been right about their ideals.

The dead witch ignored that last thought. She wasn't ready to go down that path yet.

Sirius pointed the stolen wand at the frightened couple.

"I'm not saying it will change anything. But I have to try anyway. They can't possibly get worse."

He took a deep breath, his gaze went stern, and he resigned himself. He wasn't sure to be forgiven.

"Imperio."