It was an afternoon of unseasonably cool and misty weather that greeted Sirius when he stepped out of the red phone box and onto the scattered streets of London. He had given consent to a limited number of tests and interviews to be conducted by the Ministry's Unspeakables, and although they were taking every inch he gave them, they had quickly learned not to take a mile, because his bark matched his bite. The whole experience left him mentally fatigued. The feeling of being poked at like an interesting specimen, rather than a person, was altogether unpleasant. But he did his best to play nice. It wasn't the R grunts' fault he had suffered unnecessarily for the better part of two decades, but he wasn't looking forward to continuing these sessions.

Motorists blew past him on the road, and pedestrians hardly gave him a passing glance. He adjusted the collar of his dark leather jacket as he strode out toward a small ally a few buildings over. It was still novel to him, having freedom and the anonymity to come and go as it suited him. Even though he rarely got to actually exercise his new rights. Although, legally he couldn't be hassled, it didn't stop the general public from fearing his presence. He couldn't blame them too harshly, the Prophet no longer held much credibility for many and for others – as he had predicted– his exoneration was obscured by the confirmation of Voldemort's return and his quick rise to power, even with the help of The Quibbler running a more illuminating article regarding his innocents. Which also meant he had a new target on his back. As a known member of The Order and publicly confirmed to be Harry's godfather, he was now much higher on the Death Eater's hit list than when he was in hiding.

Still, even if he couldn't linger or take a leisurely walk around town, he had more freedom of movement than he had in sixteen years. His face hadn't stuck as steadfastly into the minds of muggles, so he could pop into a bookstore or pub without much to worry about. It might not be the best idea to be frequenting public places often, and he had to keep an eye on his six, but being able to do anything as himself – not hidden as Padfoot, or polyjuiced into someone else's identity– was undeniably exhilarating.

Even the smell of exhaust mingling with the fishy scent of the Thames seemed sweet to him.

After checking his pocket watch, he took a glance around the street before closing his eyes and apparating with a soft pop. The sensation of being squeezed through a tube never failed to be disconcerting but within moments he reappeared at the corner of a sleepy street next to a familiar face.

"Did you wait long?" He asked Remus, who was leaning against a lamp post with his pockets shoved into his trousers.

"No, not long," Remus replied. There was a slight tension there that hadn't gone away since their argument in front of the headmaster's office a little over a week ago. Sirius knew that Remus was still wrapping his head around the idea of not trusting Dumbledore infallibly. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk in depth outside of that one heated moment, and the need to get things aired out was like a shadow that clung to their feet and stretched out between them. But Sirius was grateful for the near total certainty that their friendship was steady enough to handle that discussion.

Right now they were holding off on their disagreements to show up at Number 4 Privet Drive and give those good for nothing Dursley's an uncomfortable but risible afternoon. One of many, until Dumbledore decides that the blood magic that is protecting Harry was satisfied with his presence enough that he could move back into Grimmauld Place before the start of the new school term.

They walked together down the street, passing appallingly identical homes and gardens. The kind that made one wonder how often someone made their way home after a late night at work, or after partaking in too much beer at the local pub, and tried to unlock the wrong door. They were all a dull sort of brown brick with perfectly manicured shrubs and not an ounce of personality. Even his creep-show parents had a sense of flair, even if that flair was rather macabre and gaudy. He at least had something interesting to judge them for. These people were just boring. He wanted to turn into Padfoot if only to take a massive shit in their yard just for there to be something to admire.

Eventually, after what felt like some weird monotonous nightmare, they found Number 4. Unsurprisingly, it was just as dull as the rest of the neighborhood. At least Arabella Figg, on the next street over, had some lovely lawn flamingos and floral curtains in the window.

Remus caught Sirius' attention with a disgusted click of his tongue. He had his nose scrunched in an expression that read as though he smelled something particularly rancid as he scanned the house.

"We seem to share the sentiment," Sirius said, giving his friend a similarly dour look.

"Last time I didn't get much chance to take a look around," Remus said, filling Sirius in briefly. "But given the homeowners it really isn't much of a surprise."

They walked across the concrete slab up to the front door and knocked. Sirius leaned against the brick next to the door and crossed his arms as muffled shouting came from inside. He looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. His first impression with the current guardian's of his godsons was so far quite abysmal. Though he expected little else.

"I got it! I got it!" said an exasperated voice coming from just on the other side of the door.

Sirius grinned as the door swung open to reveal Harry, who's eyes first landed on Remus standing directly in front of the doorframe, then ticked over to spot him lounging against the brick.

The boy's sullen face lit up and Sirius stood up fully to receive a hug that was thrown at him.

"Sirius! Professor Lupin!"

"Hey there, Harry," Sirius greeted, patting the back of the boy's head that was buried against his shoulder.

Remus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his own smile present. He was clearly pleased at the enthusiastic welcome as well. "It's good to see you, Harry."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked as he pulled away. His bright green eyes were wide in curiosity.

"Who's at the door, boy?" a gruff voice yelled from inside the house. Harry flinched at the sound and some of the elation on his face dimmed.

"You going to invite us in, Harry?" Sirius asked, looking down at his godson's face that suddenly looked apprehensive.

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea," Harry looked back into the house as his uncle bellowed again.

"Oh, I think it's a great idea!" Sirius reassured him, slipping past him over the threshold. Remus followed close behind and Harry scurried after them, looking slightly less concerned after seeing the somewhat feral look that crossed over his godfather's expression.

If the exterior of the house was bland, the interior felt like a department store vomited all over it. The only truly personalized touch were random assorted knick knacks and picture frames of a pudgy little boy in different states of development. Fat baby photos with strange props like beach balls, toddler pictures with firemen helmets, a young boy in a terrible school uniform wielding a cane, an enormous looking teenager that looked more like a troll than any human had any right to appear, in a wrestling costume.

Sirius entered into the dining area that was next to the kitchen, which was occupied by a severe looking woman with a pinched face and shrewish eyes who was leaning over the table arranging a handkerchief into the collar of and a man that bore a striking resemblance to a walrus.

"And who might you be?" asked the walrus. His voice was shrill in his anger. "You didn't let a solicitor in, did you, boy."

Sirius slid into an available seat across the man and surveyed the spread over the table. It was lunch time and he had worked up an appetite during his time being poked at at the ministry.

"You! Why are you here again?" the woman finally spoke up, after spotting Remus. She was a shrieky little thing, which matched her hawkish features. How was it even possible that she was related to Lily? The sisters looked nothing alike.

Sirius plucked up a sandwich wedge and examined it for a moment before taking a bite. It wasn't terrible, he'd give them credit for that, though considering the sheer size of the man across from him and the teenager in the photos, he supposed it shouldn't have been shocking that they ate well.

"We're here to see Harry, obviously," Sirius spoke through a mouthful of food.

"You…!" the man started, tearing off the handkerchief tucked into his collar and pointing a sausage-like finger at Sirius and then at Remus and then back again. "You're also one of them! One of those freaks!"

Sirius gave the man a smirk and slipped his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at the man faster than the two muggles could react. The finger that had been pointed at them shot up and stuck up into the man's nostril. He took another bite.

"Yep!" Sirius said, cheerfully. He felt the grin on his face widen at the poorly stifled laughter from Harry behind him. "Now, let me introduce myself, Dursley. My name is Sirius Black, Harry's godfather." He offered out a hand.

Vernon and Petunia's faces drained of color at the name, and for once Sirius was pleased that his reputation preceded him. Watching the fear of God being put in these lowlifes was satisfying.

"Si...Si…Sirius Black?" Petunia stuttered, huddling next to her husband who sat shocked with his finger still up his nose. "The murderer?!"

"The one and only…well. I guess the third. But, the other two are long gone," he said, polishing off the sandwich and not bothering to correct her on the murderer bit. He dropped his hand, grateful they didn't bother taking it.

"Well…Well I don't care who you are, you don't have a right to be in my house. I must ask you to leave!" Vernon demanded, the color was returning to his face, but instead of a healthy pink he was turning an interesting shade of puce.

"Don't wanna," Sirius said as he stood up. "Come on Remus. Harry, show us around a little?"

"Sure, there's not much to see but, come on," Harry was outright grinning now.

The Dursley's followed behind, protesting the entire time as Sirius took his time exploring their living room, picking up random tat and tossing them up in the air indelicately as he scanned the space. Petunia looked particularly faint when he spun a glass vase covered with poorly hot glued seashells on its surface on its rim, making it teeter precariously.

"That was a gift from my sister-in-law, Marge!" she squeaked, snatching the vase up and cradling it in her arms like a baby.

"She sure knows how to pick out a thoughtful gift," Remus sarcastically muttered under his breath. His attention pulled from the vase to the accent table covered in various snow globes. Remus elbowed Sirius and gestured to the display.

Petunia only glared at him before looking away with her nose in the air as Sirius picked up a snow globe that had a miniature Eiffel Tower inside. He flipped it over to shake the up the snow inside before setting it down and picking one up that had a Christmas tree in it that had Berlin embossed on the base.

Remus fiddled with a switch at the bottom of one, making it start and stop the tiny Merry-Go-Round inside. A jaunty tune plinked spasmodic as he flipped the switch back and forth.

"Are you quite done?" Vernon Dursley asked tersely, folding his arms across his considerably girthy middle.

"Not remotely," Remus chimed cheerfully.

"Want to see upstairs?" Harry asked, a spark of glee peeking out at his aunt and uncles fear and discomfort. He slipped by them to lead them back to the front of the house where a flight of stairs began. "This is where I slept until after I got back from first year. Now they lock up my things there," he said, pointing a thumb at the small cupboard under the stairs.

Both Sirius and Remus paused mid step and slowly pivoted to the Dursley's, who both had frozen stiff. Petunia clutched at the vase like it was a lifeline and Vernon's considerable mustache began to quiver at whatever expression that must have darkened the two wizards.

"It was discipline," Vernon spat out, sounding panicked. Sweat began to gather at his brow as Sirius began fiddling with his wand. The garnet on the butt of the handle glinted beautifully, but must have seemed sinister to the muggle couple who swallowed thickly on their nervousness.

"Oh?" Sirius began as though his curiosity was pleasantly piqued. "Discipline. What was he being disciplined for?"

"They were trying to stamp the magic out of me," Harry piped up when neither his aunt nor uncle showed signs of answering. Clearly enjoying himself he continued to add some interesting details. "Once I ended up on the roof at school after Dudley and his friends were chasing me. They told everyone that the wind caught me when I jumped. Turns out it was magic, not the wind."

"It's perfectly natural for young wizards to exhibit incidental magic, especially when they are being threatened," Remus said reassuringly to Harry but kept his eyes on the two trembling adults. He looked stern, and Sirius couldn't help a little bit of humor to bleed through the anger he was feeling right then. For the first time he could see the Professor in the man.

"Natural?!" Vernon wheezed through his clenched teeth. "There's nothing natural about your lot! I will not put up with it in my own home!"

Sirius clicked his tongue, the disdain oozing off of him in waves. He flicked his wand up at Vernon and cast a hot-foot jinx at him. He had had enough of the man for the afternoon.

"Oh! Ah! Oh!" Vernon exclaimed in surprise, his rotund body hopping from one stout foot to the other as though he were standing on hot coals.

"Dear?!" Petunia squawked, following her husband as he bolted out the door, wobbling down the driveway into the street.

"That'll keep them busy for a while," Sirius said, his mood instantly cheered up as he watched Petunia chase Vernon up the road. "He needs the exercise anyway."

Harry watched with a look of awe out the gaping doorway. "Awesome…"

Like Harry had said, there wasn't much to see around the house besides more intriguingly ugly pictures of what Sirius discovered was his cousin Dudley. That and a poorly hidden stack of paperback novels hidden in the bedside drawer in the Dursley's bedroom that he fully intended on snooping out later. The book settled on top had an interesting cover of a man with an impressively toned chest that was generously exposed, his billowing white shirt undone completely as he held a swooning woman against him by the waist, her breasts swelling against her dress, nearly falling out of the low cut of the bodice. Gentle Rogue, the cover read. Interesting reading material for such a seemingly prudish woman.

Harry had gone a fun shade of green when he noticed the book. Sirius and Remus snickered the whole time he practically shoved them out of the bedroom and down the hallway, his ears the only part of his body that retained a healthy rouge.

Harry's room was small, full of worn and slightly broken furniture, broken toys, and old electronics. It didn't take much deducing that Harry's room used to be more of a storage space for the Dursley's than an actual bedroom. Despite all of that, evidence of a teenage boy living in the space was apparent. Candy wrappers and owl feathers were strewn around haphazardly. More sensible possessions like spellbooks, novels (Sirius spotted a one with the title Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea), robes, and newspapers were also among the clutter.

The headlines on the newspapers were well known to the older wizards and they all centered around the incident at the Hall of Prophecy and Harry. The journos had dubbed Harry "The Chosen One" which made the notoriety and expanding mythos of Harry reach even higher levels. Which was not, in Sirius' mind, a good thing at all. If there was one thing he and Molly Weasley could agree on, it was that putting the weight of the world of a teenage boy was utterly absurd. But while Molly wanted to shelter Harry from it all, Sirius knew that would only serve to tie his legs together when he needed to run.

Between the three of them the room was a bit cramped. But neither Sirius or Remus commented on it as Harry fell on to the bed, pulling his legs up to cross under him. Sirius walked over to the rolling chair by the desk and sat, ignoring how one of the wheels was missing, causing it to tip when he shifted his weight. Remus sat at the end of Harry's bed, putting his hands under his thighs and leaned forward.

"How have you been, Harry," Remus asked, tilting his head to look at the teenager.

"About how you'd expect," Harry shrugged. "Bored and sick of this place. The Dursley's do their level best to ignore me nowadays, which I won't complain about." Remus frowned a bit at that and shared a glance with Sirius. "What's happening out there? I only know what the Prophet says and what Ron and Hermione send me through letters. And the Quibbler, of course."

"It's a mess," Sirius sighed, shifting into more of a slouch with his arms crossed. "They've sworn in Rufus Scrimgeour to replace Fudge. They think having an ex-auror will miraculously make Wizarding Britain secure from Voldemort and his cronies." He rolled his eyes and tilted his head back to look at the bare white ceiling as though he could find the words to express how screwed everything was there.

"What do you mean? Scrimgeour will surely be better than Fudge, right?" Harry asked, his curiosity lighting his face. "He's at least not trying to deny Voldemot and has a background in fighting dark wizards."

"That remains to be seen. His posturing at his inauguration speech did not leave me impressed."

"There's a tiny bit of bias in your opinion, considering Scrimgeour headed the search for you when you were on the run," Remus said, turning a sardonic smile onto his friend.

Sirius huffed a laugh at the ceiling. "Touche."

"But, I don't entirely disagree with Sirius," Remus continued, looking back at Harry. "Besides being a well respected auror and head of that office, we have no idea how he intends to tackle an outright war. Securing the entirety of Wizarding Britain and maintaining public order are completely different from providing security details and organizing policing forces."

"Scrimgeour never outright showed signs of wanting to pursue politics higher than what the position of Head of the Auror office forced upon him. Which either means, he's been playing his hand close to the hilt until an opportunity like this popped up, or he was the most convenient person that fit into the image the Wizengamot thought would appease the public," Sirius continued to explain. "I personally think it would be better if he stayed in charge of the Auror Office. He's proven to be decent at his job there, this is the wrong time to test if he's capable of handling the whole administration during war time. On top of that they had to replace him at the Auror Office." Sirius tisked softly in disapproval and relaxed his neck to look back at the other two in the room.

"I actually have some high hopes for Gawain Robards," Remus piped in, also leaning back until his head rested against the wall that Harry's bed was shoved up against. The position looked awkward, with his upper back hovering a few inches off the mattress and his neck bent so his chin was practically on his chest. He'd always had some interesting lounging habits. "He's older and was an active and well decorated auror during the first war. Not really sure why he wasn't Head of the Auror Office before, in the first place."

"Perhaps, he preferred working in the field over administration duties?" Harry conjectured, he glanced between them, perhaps looking for validation. It reminded Sirius of how young Harry really was, and how tenuous his understanding of Wizarding politics was. Most magical folk were taught about their government by their parents, leaving the school free to teach mostly practical applications. Which left muggleborns and many half-blood students with a large gap of information that they would have to fill on their own.

"That's a good possibility," Sirius nodded."He probably was pushed into the position in lieu of retirement or perhaps he was the only contender fit for the position."

He hissed out a groan and scrubbed his face. Politics wasn't his cup of tea. But he also knew that his presence at the ministry wasn't requested solely for the purpose of research. It kept his presence local, perfect for observation, and clandestine networking. He might be freshly exonerated, and still a social pariah to the public, but he was the de facto head of House Black. Which awarded him a seat within the Wizengamot that had been empty for nearly two decades. No one had asked him to fill the seat just yet, there seemed to be some trepidation over upending the balance with a wild card. Especially since it had already been upended by the imprisonment of several members who had been involved in the battle at the ministry a week and a half ago. It was also not lost on them that he'd been subjected to their judicial powers, and that he had a close friend who had been a victim of their legislative decisions.

If it were at any other point in time he'd just tell them all to bugger off and leave him alone. Let him be so he could try to reclaim and rebuild his life in peace. But it wasn't another time. There were threats, both inside and outside the ministry that were threatening his loved ones and he finally could take an active part in their protection. He didn't even fight Dumbledore on it when the old man flooed into Grimmauld to ask him to go along with the near daily ministry appointments. Getting as many eyes and ears spread out through the ministry was just good policy – but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"What about Order business?" Harry asked, as though reading his thoughts. He seemed eager to hear more, especially since it seemed he was getting answers freely for once.

"Not much to report at the moment," Remus began, taking charge. "Mostly keeping eyes and ears open. There's some boots on the ground trying to keep an eye on the areas that seem to have the most dementor presence."

"Dememtors?" Harry yelped, justifiably alarmed. His spine straightened in a reflexive jolt and his face paled slightly.

"They've started going rogue," Remus explained. "They've been leaving the prison and are joining Voldemort. The mist is an indication of them breeding, too."

Harry looked disturbed, and Sirius felt grateful that he didn't ask for an explanation on the breeding mechanics of the soul sucking monsters.

"It seems like the Giants in the West Country are also aligned with Voldemort. That hurricane was a result of them and some Death Eaters getting their jollies to terrorize the muggles in that area," Sirius sneered. "We had no warning about that one. Our intelligence gathering is slow and spread thin. We've managed to stop more than a few public attacks but they're becoming more frequent. I know the obliviators are at their wits end trying to control the damage. "

"Those were Death Eater attacks?" Harry asked, shock coloring his face. Neither Sirius or Remus answered verbally but the somberness on their faces was enough of one. "But why target muggles?" his eyebrows drew in for a moment as he thought and he started to pick at some pilling on his old flannel blanket. "I know he hates muggles but shouldn't Voldemort be targeting the Ministry? If he took over there, besides the Order, there would be no one to protect the muggles from magical attack."

Remus a wry smile cut into the grave expression that had settled onto his face. "Good question. What does he have to gain by orchestrating these large attacks? " There was a familiar tone of a professor turning a student's own question on them.

Harry briefly looked annoyed before he leaned back against his headboard. Silence blanketed the room for a moment. The only sound was the distant sound of traffic shushing through the half open window and the vague shouts of Petunia chasing after Vernon a couple streets over. It was enough of a comical relief to keep Sirius' mood up while they discussed the war that was happening out on the streets.

"He's keeping everyone busy," Harry finally said. "You mentioned that the Order was being spread thin, and with the changes to the Ministry they must also be busy, and adding chaos is a way to keep them scrambling. Which would leave them and us vulnerable. "

"Bingo," Sirius said with little humor. "I'd also add that muggles are largely defenseless against magical attacks, and it's just good tactical sense to go after those who can't fight back. Even if it's dishonorable and amoral."

Their conversation ended when the front door opened and banged shut, and loud thumping sounds made their way up the stairs. Harry's door swung open, smashing into the wall beside it and revealed the subject of the pictures hung throughout the house. Dudley was even larger than he seemed in the more recent photos, he must have grown both vertically and sideways since he last was taken to have his picture taken. Though he seemed less flabby, like some of the fatty bulk had moved into muscle. The wrestling pictures must have been early on in his training.

The kid had a mean mug, his beady eyes narrowed as he spotted Harry, seeming not to register Sirius or Remus in the room. "Why are mum and dad running around the neighborhood?"

"Ah," Sirius interjected, standing from his wobbly rolly chair. He stepped closer, pleased to see the kid's head had to tilt to look up at him. "My bad." He let his wand drop from his jacket sleeve. The action caught Dudley's attention. His face drained of blood, and he backed away from Sirius as Sirius stalked past him. "I better lift the jinx before he passes out."

AN: Sorry if this seems a little sloppy, my editor has been busy moving house, and I've always been lazy about editing on my own!