Title: And all the dead lie down (I felt soroccos crawl) credit: Emily Dickinson

Dedication: Request for mangoarcher1802

Summary: Sirius concocts a rare potion. "Of all the people who died, Sirius, why waste this on him?"

Story Notes: Functions as a one-shot, but there is a second half that I'll get up here eventually.

part 1/2

The summer after Harry's fourth year, Remus came alone to collect him. Now the two of them stood in front of a line of tall buildings, Harry in particular feeling very insignificant by comparison. He flicked his head back and forth, noticing that the house numbers went from 11 to 13, skipping number 12.

"Here Harry," said Lupin hoarsely. Harry could not remember the last time he'd heard his former professor's voice sound anything but strained. Lupin adjusted Harry's trunk and set down his owl cage in order to prize a piece of paper from his pocket. "You need to read this."

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

"What is this?" demanded Harry. Lupin only smiled at him.

"Just give it a second."

A massive rumble shook the street and Harry started. The buildings in front of him were splitting apart and sliding away from each other like two very fast glaciers. Harry watched in awe as a new house, Number 12, flickered into sight.

It took a few minutes for the dust to settle. Harry was still awestruck.

"What is this place?" he gasped.

"Your godfather's house," Lupin explained, pushing Harry forward gently by the shoulders. "He's letting Dumbledore use it as headquarters for the Order—that's the group of people fighting against Voldemort."

Harry only nodded numbly. Lupin rang the doorbell.

A few minutes later, the door swung open and a very exasperated man with long black hair was standing on the threshold. It was indeed Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, and he was looking a good deal better than the last time Harry had seen him. His hair was regaining some of its shine and he'd filled out a bit, no longer so skeletal. His skin looked healthier and despite his obviously frustrated expression, a brief smile dared to flit across his face.

"Sirius," Harry breathed, but before he could say or do much more, Lupin urged him inside.

"Remus how many times am I going to have to remind you not to ring the doorbell? Do I need to put up a sign?" Sirius hissed, although his voice was fairly good-natured.

"Sorry, Padfoot, in all the excitement it slipped my mind. Did you get her quieted down?"

"Yes," Sirius answered.

"Who're you talking about?" Harry asked while he frantically looked around, trying to take in everything he could. The entryway was dark, but he could see the outlines of frames all over the walls and one particularly large one by the door. There was a staircase immediately to his right and a long hallway to the left. "Wow this place is huge, Sirius, I had no idea you were rich!"

Sirius laughed. "It's my parents' old house, but they're both dead now. That over there," he pointed to the large photo frame by the door, partially concealed by a row of curtains. "Is a portrait of my wonderful mother, commissioned god only knows how many years ago by my father. Loud noises—like doorbells—" he narrowed his eyes at Lupin. "Wake her up and she starts yelling. I had to resort to drastic measures to shut her up when you two arrived just now."

"And just what were those?" asked Lupin with a smirk, but Sirius refused to answer.

"Come on, Harry," Sirius took him by the shoulders and led him up the stairs. "Let's get you situated in a room and then we can get some dinner started."

As they walked away, Harry swiveled his head around and listened carefully. From behind the dusky curtains, he could just barely hear Sirius's mother crying.

The first floor landing was as grandiose as the rest of the house, and twice as musty.

"Sorry, no one's lived here in a very long time," Sirius explained sheepishly when he noticed Harry swiping cobwebs off his sleeve. "Not since my mom died at least, unless you count the elf."

"You have a house elf?" Harry asked in mild disgust.

Sirius tilted his head. "Yes…his name is Kreacher and he's positively vile."

Harry only shrugged. He was very excited to see his godfather and didn't want to start a fight, but memories of Dobby's forced servitude and abuse and his own miserable existence at the Dursleys' made it impossible for him not to say anything. "Can't say I'm in a position to blame him."

Sirius frowned curiously. "Well anyway," he continued. "We've got some spare bedrooms down the hall here. I figured you could share one with Ron and Hermione."

"They're coming here?" Harry asked.

Sirius nodded eagerly. "Next week. The whole Weasley family, actually. I'm told Molly'll be keen to help me clean this place up a bit."

Harry nodded absentmindedly. He imagined Ms. Weasley would be more than eager to start in on the dusky house.

On their way down the hall, they passed two doors with nameplates. The first said 'Sirius Orion Black' in a fancy gold script and Harry smiled as they walked by it. He found himself suddenly insatiably curious about what Sirius's teenage bedroom might look like. Before he could inquire, though, they passed another door, this one emblazoned with a slightly longer engraving:

'Do not enter without express permission from Regulus Arcturus Black.'

Harry actually stopped walking. Sirius had taken three steps before noticing and turning back.

"Who's Regulus?" asked Harry before he could stop himself.

When he received no answer, Harry turned to his godfather. Sirius's face was mostly hidden in shadow (none of the lamps down the hall had been lit and very little light had managed to cut through the grime covering the window at the end of the hall). The nature of Sirius's silence made Harry uncomfortable, and he began to regret voicing his question.

Finally, just as Harry was about to apologize, Sirius spoke. "…I used to have a brother," he said shortly.

"O—oh," Harry nodded quickly. He didn't need to inquire further to realize he'd stumbled upon a sore topic. Perhaps Sirius's brother was dead…it made the most sense, after all, Sirius said no one had lived in this house for years, and if a member of the Black family were still alive, surely he would have moved in or at least sold or maintained the property?

Harry was jolted from his thoughts by Sirius speaking once more. "I've started clearing out your room," he said with forced cheerfulness. Harry followed him as they resumed walking. "There's a little work left, though, I'm sorry. I haven't had much time and it took me a week just to clear that moth colony out of the kitchen…"

The room Sirius had prepared for Harry had to be three times the size of his bedroom at the Dursleys' and ten times the size his cupboard had been. He really couldn't have been happier, but Sirius seemed highly embarrassed that he could not offer Harry more.

"The rooms on the second landing are much nicer," he rambled as Harry sauntered around the room, jaw slightly agape. "But it's going to be a while before I'd let anyone sleep in those, they're so cluttered and overrun they're dangerous, and if you stand still long enough you can hear lots of scurrying, so it's going to be a multiple-person job to clear them out. I swear I heard hissing from inside one. In a few months, though, I'm sure we can have one ready. This'll just be temporary…"

Sirius trailed off when he saw how widely Harry was smiling.

"Harry…?"

Harry walked up to Sirius and did something he'd never done before: hugged him fully.

"What's this?" Sirius asked in genuine surprise.

Harry pulled back and stared up at him sheepishly. "Sorry," he murmured. "It's just…you were talking as if you expected he to be here for, you know, a while…"

For a moment Sirius looked puzzled. Then he laughed, the sound very reminiscent of a bark. "Harry didn't Remus tell you?"

"Tell him what?" came a voice from behind them.

Harry turned around to see Lupin leaning into the room with one hand braced on either side of the doorway.

"The news!" said Sirius, swinging out his arms. "That Harry's moving in with me! That is…I mean, providing that he wants to…" Sirius glanced sideways at Harry nervously.

"Seriously?" Harry gasped. Sirius immediately relaxed. "Professor Lupin, why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry," Lupin laughed. "It must have slipped my mind." He was giving Sirius a knowing look that suggested he'd forgotten on purpose, perhaps to let Sirius share the news. Sirius mock-glared at him.

"You're really excited, huh, Harry?" Lupin prompted.

"Of course! Anything to get away from the Dursleys! …I don't have to go back there again, do I?"

"You'll need to check in once or twice at the beginning of each summer, but don't worry, it'll only be for a couple of hours," Lupin said.

"Wow…" Harry murmured.

Lupin retreated into the hall for a moment and then returned lugging Hedwig's cage and Harry's trunk. "Here Harry, you can start unpacking. I need to borrow Sirius downstairs for a minute. Come join us when you're done."

"Okay," said Harry, kneeling to unlatch his trunk. He was still giddy with excitement that he never had to live at Number 4, Privet Drive again. An entire room to himself, with no locks on the outside of the door!

"What do you need, Moony?" Sirius asked as Lupin prompted him out the door.

"A package arrived for you with the word 'urgent' scrawled across it and I really want to know what's inside…"

A half an hour later, the rumbling in Harry's stomach was becoming greater than his desire to continue sprawling his things all about his new bedroom. He decided to venture downstairs and take the two men up on their offer of dinner.

No one had yet to show him where the kitchen was, though, and he wandered aimlessly up and down the hallway on the ground level before finally hearing voices he could follow.

"…I don't know, Sirius, but you can't possibly be thinking of doing it?" Lupin was demanding. Harry paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt what sounded like a very interesting conversation. He felt a little guilty spying on his godfather, but his body seemed to be on autopilot.

"You would have me just give up this opportunity?" Sirius was hissing.

"Even if it worked, Sirius…would you be doing them any favors? And besides, who would you choose? How would you choose?"

There was a short silence followed by a frustrated sigh from Lupin.

"You're doing this no matter what I say, aren't you?" he asked.

"Whoever sent this wouldn't have done so if they didn't want me to take advantage of this chance to—"

"But you don't know who sent it, Sirius!"

"Of course I do," Sirius insisted vehemently. "I'd recognize this handwriting anywhere! And besides, what's it matter?"

Harry's breath hitched. What were they talking about? Carelessly, he leaned forward, accidentally knocking open the door to the kitchen.

Immediately Sirius and Lupin stopped talking. Knowing he had no other option, Harry slowly walked in, acting as though he'd heard nothing of their conversation.

"Hi guys," he said conversationally.

Lupin gave him a smile. "Hi Harry, there's some dinner heating up on the stove. Your godfather and I were just discussing…"

Harry interrupted before Lupin was forced to think of an excuse. "Are you staying the night, Professor?" he asked.

"You know I'm not your professor anymore…"

"He's actually going to be living here with us, when he's not off gallivanting for Dumbledore," Sirius explained. "I've got him a room sort of cleared out a few doors down from ours."

"Ah," Harry nodded and helped himself to some of the soup bubbling on the stove. A small part of him leaped with joy at the prospect that Ms. Weasley would soon be there, helping to cook for everyone.

"What's that you've got there?" Harry asked, trying to be nonchalant, as he sat down at the table. Neither Sirius nor Lupin had thought fast enough to hide the small, opened package or the letter that both sat on the table in front of Sirius.

"It's asphodel," said Lupin slowly, and after leaning forward, Harry could indeed see that a small bundle of dried flowers lie concealed in the brown wrappings.

"Okay," said Harry, wondering why on earth the two men would be arguing about such a common potions ingredient.

"Sirius was just going to slip it into the cupboard with the rest of the potions ingredients he never uses," Lupin said almost threateningly.

"Right," Sirius muttered. He scooped up the flowers and made off to another room, slipping the note into his back pocket as he did so.

"How soon next week will everyone else arrive?" asked Harry, scrubbing hard at the stubborn bricks around the mantle in the first-floor drawing room. He'd been on his knees working at it for twenty minutes and still the yellowed smoke stains showed no signs of leaving.

Sirius's head popped back up from behind the sofa, where he was repairing the upholstery and simultaneously keeping an eye out for holes in the wall.

"Thursday evening. First Order meeting's scheduled for Friday, just before dinner. You kids'll be banished to your rooms for the duration of that, I'm afraid. Dumbledore doesn't want you lot getting involved."

Harry shrugged disinterestedly. After the horror of his fourth year, a year spent calmly letting the adults around him care for everything would be a welcome break. He was truly fine with being in the dark, unless he was dragged into another mystery up at the school (in which case all bets were off).

"Thanks for helping me clean, by the way," Sirius added. "I know it can't be much fun. I'll bet this probably wasn't what you had in mind when you said you wanted to come live with me, huh?"

Harry threw his scrub brush at the sofa where it collided with a wet smack. "You idiot," he said. "If you recall, I agreed to stay with you back when you were still homeless."

Sirius broke into the first real grin Harry had seen since he arrived.

Harry got up to collect his brush. He didn't resume his cleaning, though, instead choosing to stare longingly at the bricks, which long ago he supposed had been white.

"My parents did like to smoke," Sirius said apologetically as he approached Harry from behind. Smoothly he waved his wand and the mantle returned to its former white sheen.

Harry folded his arms. "You couldn't have done that a half an hour ago?" He griped.

Sirius chuckled. "I'm sorry, Harry, I wasn't thinking. Here, come help me get some of these old photos down. Grab one of the sacks from the sofa, we can throw them all in there and then toss them out."

Harry obliged. Sirius started haphazardly tearing photo frames (some of them empty and some of the containing screaming occupants) off the walls, tearing wallpaper as he went. Some of them stuck more than others, and Sirius was forced to take out his wand on several occasions.

The little people in the frames cursed Sirius at the top of their voices. Some shook their fists or brandished wands.

Sirius hastily shoved a framed photo into Harry's hand, expecting him to toss it. Harry instead looked at it carefully. A wide-eyed young man dressed in expensive dress robes was staring up at him in abject horror.

"Er, Sirius, are you sure you don't want to keep some of these?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Sirius was busy scooping all the photos off the mantelpiece. They clanged and crashed when he chucked them all in a bag together.

"No, not really, why?" He asked.

"Well aren't these people, like, your family?" Harry questioned. It seemed to him that throwing away a photograph was like killing. "I just thought…you'd want some pictures to remember them by?"

Sirius scoffed. "My family? No, I'd rather forget them, really."

"Master would like to forget a lot of things," came a voice from somewhere just behind Harry.

Harry started so badly he dropped the frame he was holding. The man screamed as the glass in front of him shattered and his frame cracked.

"Kreacher!" Sirius yelled.

An old house elf, wrinkled and dressed only in a kind of loincloth, was scavenging around in one of the trash bags full of photos.

"Master has no respect for his family's treasures," the elf croaked in despair.

"Get out!" Sirius insisted. "And put those back right now."

Sirius rushed forward and yanked from Kreacher's hands the photos he'd removed from the bags. Kreacher made a keening noise as they slipped from his grip.

"Go, go, go, out," Sirius commanded, pushing Kreacher away with the toe of his boot. "Get away from here."

"Master and Mistress's photographs—" the elf wailed. Sirius pushed him harshly from the room.

"Stay out, Kreacher," he ordered. "Honestly," he said, returning to Harry and throwing the pictures away again. "He's a goddam pack rat, always trying to stop me from throwing anything away…"

Harry couldn't help but feel a small pang in his heart for the elf, though. He stared down at the crushed photos and remembered the day he'd seen the first picture of his parents. When Hagrid had given him that photo album, it had been like a part of him was completed, like he was whole. Having those pictures to remember his mom and dad by was very important to him. How would he feel if it were all just tossed away by someone who didn't care?

Sirius was muttering angrily to himself about Kreacher and prizing a particularly well-glued frame off the wall by the fireplace. Harry reached blindly into one of the sacks and pulled out a couple of photos. One was of a group of young women sitting arm in arm on a front porch somewhere. The other was of a man and a woman at their wedding ceremony, both of them bearing such a strong resemblance to Harry's godfather that he assumed them to be Sirius's parents.

Harry leaned out into the hallway where he saw Kreacher, sulking at the wall.

"Kreacher…" Harry whispered.

Kreacher did not immediately answer him. First he finished the conversation he'd been having with himself, then he turned slowly to face Harry.

"What does the little brat want from Kreacher?" he said.

Harry didn't say anything. Instead he held out the frames urgently. He needed to get back before Sirius realized he'd gone.

Kreacher stared at him with large, watery eyes. Harry shook the photos up and down a little.

"Here, take them. And hide them well so Sirius doesn't find them again. I think one is a photo of your masters…"

Kreacher snatched them from him immediately. He didn't thank Harry, but the protective manner in which he held the crooked frames to his chest was enough.

When Harry returned to Sirius's side he saw the man had briefly paused his tirade. There was a picture in his hand and instead of throwing it away without a second thought as he had all the others, this one he was staring at with great care. Harry inched closer until he could see Sirius's face. His expression was hard to read.

Harry stood on tip-toe to get a glimpse of the photo. It was of a young boy, maybe nine or ten, with raven-black hair so dark it was almost blue. He was dressed in his sleeping clothes and very busy cuddling an exasperated-looking calico cat.

"Who's that?" asked Harry quietly. Sirius seemed to snap out of a trance.

"Huh? Oh, no one, nothing…just another relative…no one."

Swiftly he threw the photo away with the others. Harry stared at the sack it was in for a long time.

When he looked back to Sirius he saw the man was staring at a large tapestry on the opposite wall. Embroidered on it was some kind of family tree with bright gold and silver connection-lines.

"Woah," Harry breathed, glancing at some of the dates. "This thing goes back forever…"

Sirius gave an experimental tug on the cloth. When it refused to budge, he sighed. "Probably some kind of permanent sticking charm, courtesy of my mother most likely. I'm not sure I've the energy to tackle this right now. Maybe after lunch…or tomorrow."

He led Harry from the room and back to the kitchen for sandwiches and a rest.

The next morning Harry woke up late. The clock by his bed read eleven-thirty.

Harry scrambled up. Why hadn't Sirius woken him up? They'd been up every day at seven so far, trying desperately to get Grimmauld Place ready for the Order. Hastily he got dressed and jogged down to the kitchen where he found only Lupin, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, flipping idly through the newspaper.

"Good morning, Professor," said Harry, taking a seat. "Where's Sirius?"

"It's nearly noon, I haven't been your professor for a year and Sirius is in the study," said Lupin, lowing his paper and giving Harry a smile. "Don't bother him, though, he's…busy."

Harry tilted his head. "Doing what? Cleaning?"

Lupin scoffed. "Yeah, something like that…Here, Harry, sit down, I'll make you some lunch."

"You don't have to do that," Harry insisted.

"No, really, I feel bad I've been too busy to help you two with the house much, this'll be my contribution."

"All right," Harry laughed while Lupin rummaged around in the cupboards.

A minute later, Sirius came streaking in.

"Moony!" he called. "I need your help. Someone has to stir while I crush these." He waived a handful of brittle twigs.

Harry stared at his godfather in amazement. He looked almost crazed. He didn't seem to notice Harry at all.

Lupin mouthed something over Sirius's shoulder at Harry and the led Sirius from the room. From Sirius's back pocket, a crumpled piece of parchment fluttered to the ground. Neither Sirius no Lupin noticed it.

Harry opened his mouth to say something but could make himself. His curiosity got the better of him and once the two men were gone, he snatched up the paper. The handwriting was completely unfamiliar, a languid, aristocratic script.

Sirius,

This is asphodel found growing of its own accord beneath a yew tree, picked at high noon by a child. If it's found its way to you, then surely I'm long dead. I trust you understand how rare it is, just as I trust you know how to use it, and who to use it for—Divination was always my strong suit. (It's how I kept up with you when you were little).

There was no signature but Harry, just like Sirius, didn't need one to divine who the letter was likely from. Harry pocketed the paper, slightly guilty for having read it, but not nearly so guilty as he was curious. He just needed to be absolutely sure his hunch was right.

Harry crept off down the hallway and back to the front door. With no preamble, he flung back the curtains over the portrait of Sirius's mother.

The life-size painting flung up her hands against the sudden light and let out a yell.

"Don't start screaming," Harry warned urgently. "My name is Harry Potter and I just had a question."

The woman's eyes began to boil with an indistinct rage the more Harry spoke. "Intruder!" she hissed. "Disturbing my house, befouling my home!"

"Please," Harry begged, hoping desperately Sirius and Lupin wouldn't hear. "Ms. Black just glance at this, is this your handwriting?"

Harry held out the letter to her. "It's got these weirdly shaped d's, see…like the person who wrote 'em started at the bottom and also left off the tails. It's exactly how Sirius's d's look in the letters he's sent me. Same s's, too, see how they have that extra swirl?"

To Harry's surprise and relief, the woman leaned forward in her frame. Harry held the paper out further.

The woman sniffed. "It seems similar to my hand, yes…"

Harry smiled and folded the letter back up. "Thank you, Ms. Black," he said earnestly. "I'll tell Sirius he has to be nice to you from now on. Would you like me to leave the curtains open?"

"No, close them," insisted Ms. Black. "I've no desire to see the kinds of filth my son lets in to my home as they traipse in and out the door like they own it."

"All right," Harry said, sliding the drapes shut. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'll see about getting them cleaned for you."

"How thoughtful," was the reply and Harry smiled because it was only partially sarcastic.

Harry turned around, intent on sneaking back into the kitchen before he was missed, but no such luck. Both Lupin and Sirius, evidently alerted by Ms. Black's initial yelling, were standing in the entryway.

Harry offered his best smile. "Hi guys," he said sheepishly.

Lupin held out his hand and Harry handed him the parchment. "Sorry I read your letter, Sirius," he said. "But you left it in the kitchen."

Sirius only shrugged. He seemed more worried than mad. "I guess you should come and see what we're making," he offered.

"What you're making," corrected Lupin. "I'll take no credit for this."

"Moony doesn't approve," Sirius muttered, turning down the hall. Harry followed him.

"You're damn right he doesn't," Lupin griped, but he followed Sirius as well.

The ground floor study was a small, cozy room, and Sirius appeared to have converted it into a makeshift potions lab. A smoggy haze hung about the air and it was very hot. On the desk there sat an improvised Bunsen burner with a cauldron bubbling sluggishly overtop it.

Harry peered over the rim. A sluggish, grey liquid was roiling about.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't have a name," Lupin explained from somewhere amongst the smoke. Harry heard Sirius close the door.

"Can't let the humidity fluctuate too much," he explained.

"…no name?" Harry asked.

"Well, none that we can pronounce, anyway," Lupin continued, stirring the grey liquid with the ladle handed to him by Sirius. "All the references I've seen describe it with a series of symbols not in any language your godfather or I can read."

"You're trying to make a rare potion you've only read about?" Harry asked, remembering vividly his second year, and the exploits with polyjuice potion he'd gone through with Hermione and Ron. Hopefully this endeavor would end better.

"In books from the library here at Grimmauld Place," Lupin admitted. "From near as I can tell, this particular potion hasn't been brewed in thousands of years, if ever."

Harry's eyes widened in amazement. "Why not?" he asked. "Because that asphodel stuff's hard to get?"

"Precisely," said Lupin. "If you read the letter from Sirius's mum then you know the insanely specific circumstances under which the plant must be harvested. The fact that she found some is…remarkable. Even more so that she would have it sent to Sirius."

"What is this potion going to do?" Harry asked. He was vaguely familiar with the connotations of the yew tree, and the various uses of asphodel. But surely…?

Lupin took a deep breath before answering. "If brewed and applied correctly, it will…reclaim someone."

"Reclaim as in…?"

"It'll bring them back," it was Sirius who spoke before Lupin could, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. "No matter how long they've been dead."

Harry felt his skin start to tingle. "How much…how much did you make?"

"There was only enough asphodel for a dosage for one," said Lupin.

"Who are you going to bring back?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Sirius refused to answer him.

Sirius's potion needed to sit for exactly half a day without being touched. Sirius locked the door to his father's old study and forbade Harry and Lupin from so much as breathing in its general direction. The slightest change in the temperature or humidity of the room—caused by something so simple as walking too fast by the door and sending a gust of air through the crack underneath—could ruin everything. Sirius also still refused to talk about his plans for the finished potion, but Harry couldn't imagine Sirius using it on anyone other than his father. Hadn't James been Sirius's best friend and brother?

Not for the first time, Sirius was in an argument with Kreacher over an item he wanted to throw away.

"It's broken, Kreacher," Sirius yelled. "I'm getting rid of it."

"Master cares for nothing!" Kreacher screamed. Harry threw down his washrag and jogged into the room where the two were arguing. Sirius was holding a dented old Polaroid camera far out of Kreacher's reach.

"It belongs with the garbage, Kreacher," Sirius insisted. "Just look at it."

"That is Master Regulus's favorite camera!" Kreacher wailed. "Oh—how he carried it with him everywhere, how he loved it, it was Master Regulus's prized possession, a gift from his brother when he still loved him!"

"I don't have time for this!" Sirius yelled. "You can't stage a coup over every object I want to get rid of around here, Kreacher. I'd lock you in the attic if there wasn't so much junk up there that you'd probably try to hide somewhere."

"Master Regulus—"

"Don't talk about Regulus," Sirius growled. "He's dead and it's his own damn fault. What good's this stupid camera going to do him now?"

Kreacher was in furious tears. "Master knows nothing," he sobbed.

"Sirius…" Harry said in a placating tone. "Maybe…"

Sirius gave him a hard look. "Regulus was a Death Eater, Harry, he joined when he was sixteen. Mummy and Daddy were probably so proud of their little murderer."

"What?" Harry gasped. Sirius's family had never sounded pleasant, but he had not pegged them for followers of Lord Voldemort.

"No really," Sirius continued. "Perfect little Reggie, Mummy and Daddy's little pride and joy…got himself killed by Voldemort for screwing up one too many times, or so I've learned. He was eighteen, check the tapestry," he jerked his head in the direction of the drawing room. "Now if you'll excuse me, Kreacher, I need to get rid of this."

He started to walk away.

"Master is wrong!" Kreacher yelled after him. "Master knows nothing of how his brother died, he knows nothing of why!"

Sirius ignored him and traipsed off down the hall.

Harry stood there for a while, the silence broken only by Kreacher's erratic sobs. Through tearing eyes, the elf looked up at him.

"Kreacher knows," he said pleadingly. "And Kreacher has told no one, but Kreacher will tell Harry Potter!"

"No," Harry said quickly. He had no interest in hearing Kreacher's delusional tales. He was worried about Sirius and hustled out after him, leaving Kreacher alone.

"Sirius?" Harry called, but the man was nowhere to be found. Harry walked upstairs to Sirius's room and knocked on the door. There was no reply, but the door was locked. Harry retreated to his bedroom for a while to give Sirius some space. A good while later, he approached Sirius's bedroom again and knocked a second time. Again there was no reply but this time the door was not latched properly and swung open when met with Harry's fist.

Harry hovered on the threshold. He had never been in Sirius's bedroom before

He found himself stepping inside. He wasn't sure why, what would snooping around his godfather's bedroom get him? Sirius had already come clean about the potion.

Sirius's room was more or less what Harry would have expected. Remnants from his teenage years mixed with the subtler tastes of an adult were everywhere. Harry found several photos on the wall that included his father. After getting his fill of staring at them, he meandered to Sirius's desk and idly picked up the only standing photo frame in the room.

Harry felt a strange, creeping sensation in his stomach while he stared at the picture. It was the same one Sirius had had the other day, the one of the young boy and the cat. Harry frowned. He'd seen Sirius throw this away. The closer he looked at the child's face, the more he saw his godfather, but this couldn't be a photo of Sirius, could it? Sirius would not have lied if it were. Perturbed, Harry sat the picture down. The boy and the calico both looked up at him dolefully.

Behind the paperweight was something else of interest: the camera Sirius had kept from Kreacher, the one he'd promised to destroy.

…The one that had belonged to his brother.

So it was Regulus in the photo, Harry decided. The old polaroid seemed newly cleaned, and when Harry opened it, he saw all the film was gone.

It seemed all at once to sink in for Harry that his godfather was about to bring someone back from the dead.

"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed. He snatched the photo of Regulus and sprinted from the room, yelling for Sirius and Lupin.

He found them in the study, hunkered over Sirius's potion.

"Harry," Sirius said, when Harry nearly bowled them over. "What's the matter, are you okay?"

Harry thrust the photograph into Sirius's face.

"This," he hissed. "You removed it from the garbage sack and repaired the glass and everything."

Sirius blinked. Lupin reached around him and took the picture.

"Is this your brother, Padfoot?"

Sirius snatched the photo by the edge of its frame. "Okay, so I decided to keep one of the family pictures. Sometimes I like to pretend I have a few happy memories."

"I also found his camera," Harry continued.

Sirius shook his head in bewilderment. "Harry, what were you doing in my room?"

"That's not the point," Harry snapped. "The point is I know you're planning on using that thing on your dead brother!" he pointed viciously at the potion, which was at that moment thin and purple.

Sirius said nothing.

"Well?" Harry demanded. He looked to Lupin. "He is, isn't he?"

"Harry," Lupin said bracingly. "This potion is so complicated….there's really no guarantee it'll even do anything at all."

"But what if it does?" Harry screeched. "What if you have, right here in this room, a one-use magic death reversal…and you're going to waste it on a fucking murderer?"

Sirius flinched, but Harry didn't stop.

"You said it yourself, Sirius, he was a Death Eater. You called him a killer! Are you really going to give a criminal the second chance at life when there are so many good people you could help! Like my parents?"

"You think I didn't consider James or Lily?" Sirius croaked. Harry quieted briefly to let him speak.

"Of course I did," Sirius said. "But which one would I choose, Harry? You father was my best friend, but he'd never forgive me for choosing him over Lily. And Lily? She'd hate me if I didn't save James. And besides…you couldn't possibly want to live your life with parents only a few years older than you…?"

Harry gave him a confused look.

"The potion, if mixed properly, will bring the person back as they were the instant before they died," Lupin explained. "That also means it's a waste to use on anyone who died of sickness or a slow-acting curse, because they would be brought back infected with the same ailment that killed them."

"Well—just… what about all the other options you have?" Harry sputtered. "Think of all the good people killed by Voldemort, and then tell me you'd rather save the man who was fighting for him!"

"Boy," Sirius whispered, looking at the ground. Harry was almost taken aback by how dejected his godfather looked.

"What?" Harry said sharply.

"Boy," Sirius repeated with emphasis. "Regulus was no man. He was a kid, a child…barely older than you..."

"He made his choice," Harry insisted.

"And so have I," said Sirius with the sort of conviction that closed a conversation.

Harry remembered Walburga Black's letter.

"Oh just because your mom tells you that you have to use it on Regulus you're just going to?" he asked in amazement. "I can't believe you!"

"Harry, we can talk more about this later when you've calmed down," said Lupin sternly.

"But—"

"No," said Lupin. He pulled Harry from the room and closed the door. "Let's leave Sirius be for a while. Don't forget to add more water in half an hour!" he added, hollering back at Sirius.

Harry stayed the rest of the day in his room. No one called him down for dinner, but he wasn't hungry anyway. All he could think about was how unfair it was. Could there be no justice in the world at all? How could Sirius do this to him? After all he'd said about Harry's parents... He'd never once spoken to Harry of Regulus, not until Kreacher had mentioned him. He thought of what he'd heard McGonagall say almost two years ago:

"You'd have thought Potter and Black were brothers."

Harry had thought so too, but evidently he'd been wrong.

Slowly, minute by agonizing minute, the room grew darker and Harry felt himself drifting off into a restless sleep.

Some hours later, Harry was woken by the click of his door opening. He sat bolt upright and squinted in the darkness. "…Sirius?" he whispered. "…Professor?"

"Mister Harry Potter," came the slightly squeaky reply. Harry flinched, and fumbled for the lights. When the room was fully illuminated, he saw it was Kreacher who had wandered into his room.

"Kreacher?" he asked in disbelief. "What are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?"

"Kreacher wanted to speak with Harry Potter," said Kreacher simply. Harry threw the covers back and got out of bed, making to lead Kreacher to the door.

"Well whatever it is, can't it wait? I'm tired…"

"No," Kreacher insisted. "Kreacher cannot talk while Master is awake. Harry Potter should follow Kreacher downstairs."

Harry looked at him suspiciously. "You're not leading me off to kill me, are you?" he asked.

Kreacher shook his head, making his ears flap about.

Harry sighed. Sirius had told him Kreacher was hostile and insane, but at the moment he just seemed desperate to talk to someone. Harry supposed Kreacher had warmed up to him because he'd snuck him the photos.

Kreacher led Harry back into the drawing room on the ground floor. Kreacher lit some lights and nudged Harry until his stood again before the grand tapestry.

"What are we doing, Kreacher?" asked Harry.

"Kreacher has been alone a long time," the elf began sadly. "And now Kreacher wants nothing more than to talk with someone who will listen."

"Kreacher," Harry groaned.

Kreacher continued unperturbed. "Kreacher must make sure someone understands what really happened to master Regulus…"

For the first time since the argument, Harry approached Sirius. The man was sitting in the library, an open book on the table before him, and he was fast asleep.

"Sirius," Harry prodded him gently. Sirius grunted and slowly woke up.

"Oh," he said, blinking. "Hello, Harry. What's wrong? You look terrible...have you been crying?"

"It's not important, listen, Sirius..." Harry whispered. Lupin was out on errands, but both he and the rest of the order—including the whole Weasley family and Hermione—were due to arrive at Grimmauld Place the next day. Harry was running out of time alone with Sirius and this was something he needed to say.

"About the other day…"

Sirius held up a hand. "Don't," he said.

"But Sirius, I…"

"You were right, Harry, I was being selfish."

Harry tilted his head. Sirius sighed.

"I thought that here I had this golden opportunity to fix my own mistakes, that maybe I could bring Regulus back and be a better brother…look out for him, keep him safe, make sure he turned out right. The sorts of things I didn't do for him while he was alive. I was wanting to alleviate my own guilt." Sirius rubbed at his face wearily. "I've blamed myself for Regulus's choices and death for a long time…mostly because it was my fault. Wanting to try again with this potion…I was only thinking of myself and I'm sorry."

Harry bit his lip.

"And besides," laughed Sirius bitterly. "I've been doing some more reading. It's so slow because the translating takes so long…but if I've got this section here all right," he pointed to the open page before him. "Then I need to have the deceased's body to administer the potion. I guess that seriously narrows my choices, huh?" he laughed sourly. "I don't have the slightest clue where my own little brother's body is…"

Sirius flipped the book shut. "Potion'll be ready by this weekend. Looks exactly how the description says it should…" he looked up at Harry, and Harry was shocked to see tears in his eyes. "I don't know what I'll tell you if this thing doesn't work, Harry."

"Sirius?" Harry asked in amazement. Sirius nodded.

"You're going to have to choose, though, I can't do it. Just know that there's no wrong answer."

Harry could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He was going to get his way…Sirius was going to resurrect one of his parents…

And then in a flash he remembered his conversation with Kreacher, and why he had come to Sirius in the first place. Harry pleasantly surprised himself with how little time he took to make his decision.

"Sirius I talked with Kreacher earlier."

Sirius looked at him questioningly.

"And I know exactly where we can find your brother's body…"

Sirius wouldn't let Harry come with him to the cave to retrieve his brother, nor would he allow him to tell the Weasleys, Hermione, or any of the Order members about what they were doing—even Dumbledore. Sirius said there was no point in bringing it up until they were certain it had worked.

Harry imagined there would be a lot of legal paperwork to fill out when Regulus Black magically came back to life, a decade and a half younger than he was supposed to be.

Sirius sneaked Regulus into Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night. Harry was waiting to help him.

"He's in there?" Harry asked needlessly, indicating the large bundle of cloth in Sirius's arms.

"Yes," Sirius whispered. He was whiter than a ghost.

"Bring him upstairs to your bedroom, Padfoot, we don't want to risk someone stumbling upon him by accident."

"I thought he'd be bigger…" Harry mused once Sirius was out of earshot.

"Regulus's body is awfully emaciated. He was also always small to begin with," Lupin explained. He and Harry followed a good ways behind Sirius.

"Sirius looks awful," Harry whispered.

Lupin nodded. "Kreacher told you Regulus was dragged under by the inferi?"

Harry nodded.

"Well he became one. He was…animated when we found him. I wasn't thinking fast enough and…Sirius had to, er, deal with him," Lupin said quietly.

Harry grimaced. "Poor Sirius," he lamented. "Professor? This potion isn't just going to bring Regulus back to the inferi-state he was in before Sirius 'killed' him is it?"

"I don't believe so, his body was merely under a sort of spell, he was not alive when we found him."

"What about the potion he drank to get the locket? We aren't going to revive him just to have him die an hour later from the poison, are we?"

Lupin gave Harry a sly look. "I spoke in private with Severus yesterday. I have secured us plenty of antidote to the Dark Lord's poison. It's a slow-acting one at that, so we will have plenty of time to get it to him once he's alive again."

"So Snape knows?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Lupin replied. "But he has agreed not to speak of it to Dumbledore or anyone else until after we have told everyone."

Harry couldn't help but notice that Lupin was speaking a lot more positively about Sirius's scheme than he had before. He almost brought it up, but they had arrived at Sirius's bedroom.

Compared to the dark of the rest of the house, the light in Sirius's room was momentarily blinding.

"Remus can you pull the sheets back for me?" asked Sirius hoarsely. "Harry you can go to bed now."

"No," Harry said immediately. "I'm the reason you found him in the first place, I want to be here."

Sirius didn't argue with him.

"I have no idea what this is going to be like," Lupin muttered. "Sirius, I'll go get the potion."

"Aren't you going to unwrap him, Sirius?" Harry asked. He approached his godfather cautiously.

Sirius didn't look very stable. He was standing at the head of his bed and resting a hand where Harry imagined Regulus's face would be, beneath the blanket he was cocooned in.

Harry put a hand on Sirius's arm. "Sirius, maybe you should wait in another room. Professor Lupin and I could…"

"No," Harry heard Sirius's voice crack. "I'm the one who killed him…it's going to be me that brings him back."

Harry sank into the desk chair and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. "Hey Sirius, what was Regulus like, did he look like you? Was he a Gryffindor, too?"

Sirius laughed a little, wiping at his eyes. "Oh, god no," he said. "Reg was a Slytherin all the way. Didn't take the hat ten seconds to shout it out. Little brat…shit, did he look like me, though! People could tell from a mile away that we were brothers."

Harry smiled. "Bet they had trouble telling you apart when you were together."

"We weren't together much at school," said Sirius sadly. "Courtesy of me, mostly. I didn't want to be seen with my dorky little brother."

"Yeah, Fred and George are like that, too," Harry said. "Ron's always complaining about them."

"This was different," Sirius insisted. "I was…cruel about it. Harry, I…I don't think I want to talk about him anymore."

"Sirius," Harry asked. "If this works…you know you're going to have to talk to Regulus about…all of everything and—"

"All right, Sirius, Harry, how are we going to do this?"

Lupin had returned, a small vial in his hand.

"That's all it made?" Harry asked.

Lupin nodded and held up the vial. The potion had turned a searing, emerald green. "Lot of evaporation during the last phase. Sirius, are you ready? You don't have to be here, you know."

"I'm ready," Sirius said grimly. He gripped the edge of Regulus's sheet tightly in his fist.

"All right," said Lupin, gently grabbing Sirius's hand. "We're going to have to unwrap him a little now, just enough to get this in his mouth, okay?"

"Yes I know," Sirius said, but Lupin still had to move his hands for him. Together they pulled the bedding back from the head of the corpse. Harry forced himself to look on out of morbid fascination.

Perhaps he had looked like his brother in life, but in death Regulus Black could barely be called human. He looked like a zombie. His skin was soggy and sunken, bits of it missing. From a gaping hole, Harry could see greying bone, decomposing in an interesting honeycomb pattern. What was left of Regulus's hair was not the sleek, raven-black-blue from the photo Harry had seen, but rather a dirty, dusky grey color.

Lupin had been right: even from seeing just his face, Harry could tell Regulus was bone thin—and had probably been so in the last stretch of his life.

Sirius snatched the vial from his friend and tilted it down Regulus's throat himself, though Lupin had to steady his hand. The potion hissed and pooled in Regulus's mouth, unable to slide very far down his throat. A faint mist of smoke curled upwards.

"Does he need to like, swallow it?" Harry asked in desperation. He had the horrific feeling something wasn't working right.

"No, it just needs to be inside his body, anywhere inside. We could get the same results if we slit open his abdomen and poured it in there, just—" Lupin began but trailed off at the expression on Sirius's face.

"Is it working?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself. "How long until we know?"

"Shh," Lupin hissed. "A while, probably. I don't know, all the texts we found just said 'with time...' None were specific."

Sirius was visibly shaking.

The last of the potion dripped from the vial and Sirius let it fall from his grasp with a clatter. Grimacing, Harry picked it up and threw it away.

"Sirius," Lupin said after a while when there had been no change in Regulus's body. "Sirius let's go to bed. In the morning…we can come and check on him. Here, come on, come sleep in the guest room with me, you shouldn't stay here."

"No, Moony," Sirius insisted, throwing off his friend. "I'm not leaving. You go."

"You need to sleep, Sirius, it's been a long day."

"I'll sleep here."

"With a corpse?"

Sirius gave him a venomous look.

"I mean…with your brother? Sirius, I—"

"You don't think it will work," Sirius accused. "But what if it does, Remus? What if it works and he wakes up tonight? Would you have him staggering around the house in confusion and waking everyone up?"

Lupin bit his lip.

"He's right," Harry offered. "Someone should stay here for the night…just in case."

Lupin shut his eyes. "Yes, perhaps you're right," he admitted. "Come on, Harry, let's get you to bed. It's nearly three in the morning. Sirius set your alarm, okay?"

Lupin pulled Harry from the room.

"Shouldn't we make sure he actually gets settled down?" Harry asked him once they were in the hallway. "What if he doesn't sleep at all?"

"Then that's his choice and he'll regret it tomorrow."

"Professor?" Harry asked. "If this doesn't work…how long do you think Sirius will wait before he gives up…if you don't know how fast your potion is supposed to work when it's done right?"

Lupin only shook his head sadly. "I don't know, I should never have let him do this."

They stopped outside Harry's bedroom door. "Do you really think it won't work?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking.

Lupin sighed. "Things that sound too good to be true usually are. I can't believe this…"

"What if it does work?" Harry pressed.

Lupin gave him a strange look and then clapped a hand onto his shoulder. For the first time in all the excitement, Harry noticed that Lupin was still quite damp from his exploits in the cave.

"Well if it works, Harry," said Lupin with a bizarre smile. "Then you can say goodbye to being an only child."

Lupin left him there in the dark. Harry opened his bedroom door, closed it again, and then walked right back to Sirius's room as soon as he was sure Lupin was out of earshot.

Harry crept into the bedroom carefully. He was surprised to see that Sirius had indeed gone to bed. The lights were off and from the faint moonlight cutting in through the window, Harry could see his godfather's sleeping form curled up in the bed next to Regulus's body. Harry grimaced at the faint smell of death and wondered how Sirius could stand to be so close. He supposed that both love and guilt could make a person do strange things.

Harry pulled the desk chair over so he could sit in it backwards and face the bed. He lay his head in his arms over the back of the chair and watched for a while. Soon his eyelids started to droop and he fell asleep.

It was the sun that woke him several hours later. A creeping dawn cut in through the gap in the curtains and streaked up the wall. The light splayed over Harry's eyes but he didn't open them. He was achingly uncomfortable from having sat in a chair all night, but his exhaustion was winning out. If he could just sleep for a few more minutes…

The creeping rays of sunlight had woken someone else in the room as well, though. First Harry heard a slight shuffling, and then through the pounding in his ears, he could just make out a timid whisper:

"S—Sirius…?"

end/part one