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THREADS OF TIME

Chapter 14

"Love your family. Spend time, be kind & serve one another. Make no room for regrets. Tomorrow is not promised & today is short."

~ Anonymous ~

The one thing that Sirius hates about his job is the paperwork – well, technically parchment-work, but nevertheless, he despises it. It doesn't help to have a mentor who despises it as well – Moody's very vocal about what a waste of time the paperwork is.

Sighing, he takes a look at his wrist watch – it's half past eight already. Knowing that he won't be able to get any more work done today, he packs up and heads out of his cubicle, all the time whistling some stupid tune that Isobel's managed to embed into his head.

As he walks past a neighbouring office cubicle, a flash of pink hair makes him stop, and he stops to call out to Linda.

"Hey Linds, want to get a drink?" he asks. They've had drinks together before, and more often than not, it's led to other 'distracting' activities. And Sirius is never one to give up on a good time. Of course, he hasn't gone out for a drink with her in months, so maybe it's time he fell back on an old habit.

"Aren't you dating someone?" she asks, not politely, and he stares at her.

"What?"

"Uh, you told me you found a witch you wanted to settle with a couple of months back. What happened? Did she get tired of your inability to commit?" she asks nastily, and suddenly everything falls into place – her newly developed attitude with him, the barbed comments that her friend's been dropping every time he's bumped into the two of them – it all makes sense.

Isobel had impersonated him a couple of months back – he should have known that she would spin some tall tale like this. But finally, he understands why Linda had been distant ever since the Yule break.

"I just thought we could have drinks as friends," he says, backtracking, before shaking his shoulders and leaving the Auror offices.

He'll have to talk to Isobel and set up some basic boundaries, he decides.

Once out of the Ministry, he Apparates to an alley two streets away from Remus' pub, so that he can do his duty as a best friend and annoy the other man for some time – Remus will give him the best advice about how he can tackle the Isobel-cock-block problem.

.

.

"You know, Bella was here earlier," he says, as Sirius peers at the bottom of his almost empty tumbler of Scotch.

"Why?"

"Something about a celebratory drink for clearing all her OWLs. She had me open up one of the house's best champagnes, and had it served to everyone," he says, a fond smile playing on his face.

"Did she save me any?" Sirius asks, as a joke.

"Are you sure champagne is what you really want from her?" he asks, a sly smile playing on his face, as he cleans a glass.

Exasperated, he knocks his drink back in one go, before tossing some notes on the counter and proceeding to leave.

"You know, I think she's saving herself for you," the idiot calls out, a smarmy grin on his face.

Sirius elegantly gives him the two-fingered salute, shoving against the door in his hurry to get out. He thinks he can hear Remus still laughing inside.

Nevertheless, he stops on his way at a brewery in Diagon, and buys a lovely bottle of red, just in case.

OoOoO

She's missing when he gets home.

It's not really home to him, but nothing's ever really been home, not like Hogwarts. Leicester Street had been home, of sorts, as had the Potter Manor, where Fleamont and Euphemia had welcomed him so lovingly.

He nods his head as Twigsy tells him how Isobel had insisted on celebrating by playing some new Muggle musical instrument she'd bought horribly off-key, and how she'd fed chocolates to Harry. He tries not to smile as the elf complains about how Harry had had a sugar-high, till he promptly fell asleep some one hour back.

He climbs up the stairs and places the bottle of wine on one of the tables in the landing, and quietly goes inside Harry's room to see his godson.

Satisfied that the mini-Marauder is indeed asleep, he prises Harry's jaws open and casts a nonverbal Scourgify, just to ensure the boy doesn't end up with cavities – his teeth are only just developing, and as easy as it is to re-grow teeth using a variation of Skele-Gro, he doesn't want Harry to go through the same pain that Auriga had had to go through.

"Is that for us?" asks Isobel, coming up the stairs, her eyes riveted to the bottle he'd placed outside, just as he exits the room. He thinks there's an abeyant alcoholic waiting to burst out of the slender girl standing in front of him.

"You bought an electric guitar?" he asks softly, stepping out of Harry's room completely and closing the door half way, surprise clear in his voice.

She grins at him and tosses her hair back, and then pulls the strap off her shoulder, holding the guitar out to him.

"It's not really an electric guitar – it only looks and sounds like one. But it actually runs on runes!" she exclaims, the excitement quite clear from the way she's talking, even if she's making an active attempt to stay quiet and not make too much noise.

"Hmm," he hums in response, running his fingers along the strings, watching as different runes light up as he toys around with the 'settings'.

She continues looking at the guitar, and then traces one of the lighted runes, and there's something about her childlike curiosity and inquisitiveness that endears her to him, even more than usual.

"Do you want me to teach you the little I know?" he asks without thinking, and those green eyes look up at him, with wonder and amazement, and Sirius thinks his world stops, just for a moment.

And then Isobel's hugging him tightly, chanting yesyesyes quietly, her bony arms curled around his neck. He holds the guitar between them awkwardly with one hand, but hugs her with his free right arm, and he breathes in her scent of green apples.

He doesn't tell her that he only knows a few chords – that he might be a maestro when it comes to the piano, but has very rudimentary guitar skills picked up from the various pubs he used to visit what feels likes a lifetime ago.

"When can we start?" she asks, stepping away, her eyes shining brightly in the dim light.

"Right away, love," he says, and he pretends not to notice how prettily she flushes at his words.

OoOoO

They end up falling asleep in that observatory her godmother has up in the attic – Sirius thinks it makes sense that Helen Flamel is Isobel Potter's godmother – they're both a little eccentric.

At first, he's teaching her chord G, and then they're looking at the stars and she's trying to remember all that he'd taught her in December. Eventually, the conversation shifts, and in a broken flow, Isobel starts talking about her best friends, a Muggleborn witch named Hermione Granger, and a Pureblooded wizard named Ronald Weasley.

Save for the time when she told him about what Peter had done in her thread during the TriWizard Tournament, this is the first time she's opening up about herself, and the hole that's been in his chest for the past few months pains lesser as he listens to her.

The concept of parallel universes and multiple "threads", as she calls it, is fantastical to him. There've always been theories regarding the Laws, but he'd never really paid attention to the abstract. And when she mentions how this Hermione chit was like a sister to her, he can't but think of his own sister – the idiot whose death he never really got over.

He smiles internally as he remembers how Auriga was much more knowledgeable at the abstract theories of magic, and listens as Isobel talks about Ginny Weasley.

He doesn't comment on any of her descriptions of her friends – they're all familiar names, the surnames at least. The Weasleys are a good lot, and he knows this from his association with the Prewetts. He wonders if the Weasleys from the world he lives in would have taken in Harry the way they'd taken in Isobel in hers.

It's obvious that she's almost asleep, because she speaks slowly, her voice muffled against his shoulder, "I miss them. I miss them so much. And I don't think anyone understands how much."

Sirius remains silent for a few beats, the sound of her shallow breathing filling the air.

"You forget, love, I lost my family too."

His whisper is just that, a whisper, and it's heard by no other living soul, seeing as the woman who it's meant for is deep in the land of Morpheus.

OoOoO

The snow is melting away, and spring's imminent arrival is obvious, as Isobel grabs at his arm and continues pulling him through the woods.

"I'm telling you, there's something not normal about this place. Whatever happened the other day, it has to be because of something. It's not really like me to lose my head," she says, pushing aside some brambles.

Sirius doesn't comment on what she's just said; he thinks his thoughts will be met with a scowl.

"And you're sure you can find this place again?" he asks, because it feels like they've crossed that same withered stump of a tree twice already.

"Of course I can. I have an excellent sense of direction."

Sirius keeps mum, and follows the raven-haired female, not letting his eyes trail down her backside– Twigsy's food has made her gain curves that make her look more human than skeleton, and he's not quite sure if it's a good thing that he likes how she looks.

Irritated with himself, he wishes he could be back in the shed, cleaning his motorcycle. At least his thoughts wouldn't stray if he were only distracted by the gleam of his beloved Harley Davidson.

"This is it," she says tonelessly, stopping short at the edge of the trees, and he narrowly avoids bumping into her as he stares at the house.

It feels eerie, and there's this sense of foreboding that Sirius doesn't particularly like. He wants to go back to Helen's mansion – there's something wrong about this place, something he just can't say for sure.

"You don't have anything magical on you, right?" she asks, and he nods his head curtly, noting how she's slipping a compass into her pocket – so that's where her 'sense of direction' comes from, he thinks snidely.

"Only my wand, as you specified," he says, though he agrees with her precautions. There's something about this place which feels upsetting. He now understands why she didn't carry her wand the other day, though it had proved foolish in the end. His core feels jolted, like his very essence is being warded away.

Wait, warded away?

"The last thing I remember is trying to cross that stream over there," she points. It still looks frozen, though given that spring is almost setting in, it's bound to be ready to crack.

He sees that she's gripping her wand tightly, her knuckles turning white, as the cogs in his brain turn. What if this entire clearing has a compelling ward or simply a ward laced with layers of compulsion charms, one that makes people want to turn away? The repelling power could turn more powerful the closer one is to the building, he thinks.

He steps past her, and edges out from the line of trees, his eyes fixed on the building in front, thinking of how once upon a time, what feels like several lifetimes ago, he and Auriga chased each other around a similar structure – their old Aunt Cassiopeia's house.

He swallows painfully, thinking of his dead sister, who'd never gotten the funeral she deserved. How would she pass onto her next life, to properly face the Judgement of Death with Morgana by her side, if she weren't sent the way one was meant to be?

That bastard Voldemort had stolen so much from him. Auriga wouldn't be dead if she hadn't foolishly joined that damned cult. James and Lily would be all right if not for that serpentine demagogue. Harry wouldn't be an orphan today.

He wants to sink to the ground, and just stop feeling.

"Sirius, are you all right?" asks Isobel, covering his clenched fist with her cold hand.

He breathes in deeply, and nods. His thoughts – he's probably being manipulated to think of things that would make him weak.

"I'm going to try something, okay? If something happens, drag me back deep into the woods, and then fetch help."

She gulps and then nods, her eyes worried, but her features set.

–

Sirius has retreated inside himself; he's walking the landscape of his mind.. He pauses to take in the familiar surroundings, before finding the rock where he always sits.

He sits on the hard surface, warmed by the sun, and gazes absently into the distance, at the grove of orange trees that are further away. He's never ventured there – he's never had reason to.

A red bird hops onto the tufts of grass next to him, and he remembers Master Septimus' words – the depths of one's mind are better left unexplored, the man had said.

Once the urge to explore the groves is gone, the bird flies away, and Sirius remembers why he's here.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the centre of his forehead, the spot which he uses as the focal point to start observing the outer word, the actual real word–not the one which represents his mind, but the one where he's standing, with Isobel holding his hand– so that he can start making out the type of wards that surround his physical body.

As the picture of a seemingly abandoned building appears, with crisscrossing golden lines forming a large dome, with smaller intricate weaving within, leaving no room within a mile's radius, signifying the heavy warding, Sirius smiles grimly.

Figuring out each and every ward in front of him is going to be such great fun.

–

They're back in the house, sitting by the roaring fire in the library, with Isobel sitting across him at the table, looking every bit a regal queen.

"What?" he asks.

Helen has an extensive book collection, and he's found a lot about the some of the wards he'd sensed earlier that he couldn't quite identify properly, but there are so many questions he has. He decides that he might as well visit the BAA's* library tomorrow, and find out more about holy wards. Having never prayed to any "godly" entity the way Muggles do, he finds it necessary to study them.

Septimus Heap had never taught him about these kinds of wards, apart from just basic theory, basic but essential knowledge. And Sirius hadn't taken a keen interest in them, because it could only be cast by members of the Light.

"I'm just thinking," he replies to her, evasively, and she frowns.

"Fine," she says in an unpleasant tone, and gets up, pushing her chair back loudly. "I'm taking Harry out to London."

"I'm coming," he says, trying not to roll his eyes at the incensed woman.

"No one invited you."

"I'm his guardian. Not you."

"I remember. That's why I informed you where I'm taking him. Doesn't mean I want you accompanying us."

"I anyway have to meet someone in London – my colleague Belinda, you might know her? She has pink hair? There's some sort of misconception she has, that I won't go out with her anymore. I might as well clear the air, let her know that I'm single."

For a moment, Isobel's green eyes flash with guilt, before she scowls again, only this time fiercer.

She storms out of the library, past a Rafal who stands there stupefied at she brushes by brusquely, just as he enters the library with a large pile of books.

"Is everything all right, Mr Black?" he asks, still startled.

The grin on Sirius' face still hasn't quiet disappeared.

"It's a good day to be alive."

OoOoO

"Two adults, please."

"You have to pay for the kid as well," tells the old ma n at the ticket counter, and Isobel looks like she's about to argue. But there isn't anything to argue about.

Sirius is holding Harry, who's watching the people behind them with avid interest – they're tourists, and someone clucks with their tongue, which makes Harry smile toothily.

"He's not even two! He's not a child, he's an infant! The board clearly says children and adults. There's no mention of infants!" she argues shrilly. Harry snaps his head to look at her.

As the old man and Isobel descend into a heated argument, with the man saying there are policies to stick to, Harry starts wriggling in his arms, and people in the queue start getting restless. So he pulls out Muggle money out of his leather Muggle wallet – a gift from Lily – and gives the correct change to the man, all singlehandedly. It's a feat that he hasn't dropped Harry in the process.

He ignores Isobel's complaints and pulls her away once he's got the tickets, to get away from the whisperings of the annoyed Muggle tourists, but not before saying a quick sorry to the ticket seller.

He doesn't let go even after they've entered the doorway, and once near they're in the middle of the first circular room, he stops at the centre.

"What's wrong with you? I had the situation under control, all right? They were fleecing us!"

"You were creating a scene," he tells her, and then immediately regrets his tone – he'd sounded like his mother.

"It was none of your business!"

"The people behind us were getting annoyed."

"Since when do you care about what others have to say?" she asks, before striding off towards one of the wax statues, whipping out her camera from the hand bag she's brought along.

Sirius follows her almost docilely, holding a Harry who now wants to be left down on the shiny floor. There are people in the room, milling around, pausing at each statue, posing and taking pictures, but never staying with any statue for too long – it seems common courtesy to keep moving along.

He's not sure why she'd been so insistent that they come here – she'd said it was a childhood dream to visit this place, but that didn't mean this place was actually interesting. In fact, he found the statues, especially their glazed eyes, creepy.

She poses with various figures and makes him take pictures, and each time, he either lets Harry have a few brief moments of freedom, or Isobel makes Harry pose along with her and the statue.

"Look, there's Judi Dench! I simply must take a picture with her!"

Sirius is once again the dutiful photographer.

Her good humour is restored eventually, and she laughs easily, away from one of the statues, when she's just playing with Harry. Sirius takes a picture of that – it's a moment worth capturing.

By now, they've moved from that room, down a small slope which Harry had insisted on running down, and each time they come across a celebrity Isobel knows, she tells him some story about the person.

It makes him realise that the girl's watched one too many Muggle movies..

"Merlin,. I need to get a 007 pic in!"

Sirius is about to take the picture, when he hears someone talking behind him, and he catches snippets. Maybe his ears are sharp because his Animagus is a dog, but that's not what he dwells on.

He pretends to fiddle with the camera, holding up his hand to tell her to wait for a few moments, as he listens.

"That woman who delayed us –"

"– Left her son irresponsibly, look –"

"– posing like Bond, seriously?"

The two women who're talking become clearer as they step closer.

"She probably got knocked up in school and has to fight for the ticket money, the slut," one of them says, and Sirius feels anger burst through him.

Pettiness is not a sign of promiscuity, and Sirius finds their tone and disgust appalling, because they're talking trash about his Isobel. Sure, her behaviour at the counter warranted a few grumbles, but it didn't make her an irresponsible person just because she wanted to take pictures, and it sure as hell didn't make her a slut.

He clicks the picture, and calls out, "Sorry, love, the lighting was odd, and I had to wait for that man there to move."

She smiles at him beatifically and swoops towards a Harry who giggles when she picks him up and twirls him. The moment's over soon, and Sirius is annoyed that he didn't get it when he could, distracted by those two women. He memorises their faces intently.

He learns about the British royal family from her. And Audrey Hepburn. And Pele. And Winston Churchill. She just doesn't stop chattering, and Harry loves it.

Sirius loves it too, but he isn't able to enjoy it the way he might usually do.

And it doesn't help that the only Muggle he's recognised is that odd looking man Hitler, who'd supposedly been in cahoots with Grindelwald. Lily had often said that Voldemort's brand of racism was similar to Hitler's.

He imagines Lily and James being here, taking Harry out to this place. He supposes Lily'd be telling James about the different statues as well, except that she'd probably have recognised historical figures more than actors and actresses. He smiles wistfully – he can imagine them right here, right next to him.

He'd been hoping to find the Beatles, but he hadn't found them there, much to his disappointment. There'd been a Chamber Of Torture, which he'd wanted to go through, but had decided not to at the last minute, because Isobel had said that Harry might have nightmares.

"You know what? We've taken twenty-eight pictures," she says, examining some knob on the camera. "There are only four pictures left on the roll, and you're not even there in one. Smile!"

The camera flashes before he can do anything, apart from hold Harry.

For the last picture, she makes some stranger take a picture of all three of them – it's the old woman who'd clucked at Harry playfully – and Sirius uses it as a chance to pull Isobel flush against him, with Harry nestled between them. He can smell her shampoo and Harry's baby powder, and it feels like home.

When the camera has flashed, he leans and kisses her on the cheek, which makes Isobel turn bright red, before she smiles at him, her eyes glittering.

The woman walks up to them, and smiles, before handing the camera to them.

"Your son?" she asks, and before Sirius can correct the misconception, Isobel says a bright yes, which prompts the woman to pinch Harry's cheek.

Harry doesn't like that, and turns his face away, rubbing it on Bella's shoulder.

"A pretty little bairn," she says, her Scottish brogue stronger now. "Has your eyes, lass."

"And his father's tendency to be a prankster," Isobel replies, tilting her head to Sirius, causing the woman to chuckle.

Sirius watches silently, as the two women strike up a conversation. He supposes that Isobel's ability to chatter makes her a sociable person.

The stranger tells them why she's here. Apparently, her granddaughter has got a job, working at the souvenir shop, and she'd invited her grandmother to come see her at work.

They proceed to the souvenir shop together, all four of them, with Harry warming up to the woman slowly.

"That's her, there," she says, pointing to a mousy looking girl with a pleasant smile, billing something for a customer. The girl catches the eye of her grandmother, smiles broadly, before pretending like she doesn't know who it is.

The woman chuckles at that, and Harry mimics her, which causes her to touch Harry's face again.

The moment's perfect; it's just what he's been waiting for.

Sirius inconspicuously points his wand at the two bitches from earlier who are now in the souvenir shop as well, and causes the row of snow globes next to them to fall. He'd been keeping an eye on the two ever since that Sean Connery statue, and Sirius honestly believes his brand of revenge couldn't have been more perfect that this.

As managers rush to them to chastise (and make them pay a lot of money, Sirius hopes), he smiles grimly, with the old woman shaking her head about clumsy people.

"It'll cost them around £200, each globe's around twenty," says some teenage boy standing near a large set of fridge magnets to an identical looking boy standing right next to him.

"Thank Christ it's not us," agrees his twin.

There's something to be said about revenge, Sirius decides. He might have made a decent Slytherin, after all.

They part ways with the Scottish woman at the billing counter, where she lingers to talk to her granddaughter, while Sirius physically restrains Harry from throwing some city guide pamphlets around.

Bella buys a red coloured photo frame, with a golden Big Ben painted on it, and holds it up to show it to him.

"Red and gold," she says, taking his free hand and squeezing it. "They're our colours."

OoOoO

Harrry's already nestled into his shoulder when Isobel Apparates all of them home. They'd had fish and chips by the Thames for dinner – Harry has a new favourite now: deep fried potatoes.

By the time they've climbed the stairs, Harry's fast asleep.

"He's drooling on your jacket."

Sirius gives her a sidelong glance and smiles lopsidedly – that makes her blush fiercely. He loves it whenever he's the reason behind her blushes – it's entertaining, and more importantly, it appeals to some primal part of his brain that likes knowing that he's the one who ruffles her up. That pink flush dusting her cheeks makes him want her in ways he'd never thought one could want another person – it's not like he's not new to lust, but it's different with the witch who's standing next to him.

"Time to tuck him in, then."

She sets her bag on the table outside and simultaneously opens the door to Harry's room. The lights come on immediately, and Harry, disturbed, rubs his face against Sirius' shoulder.

"Shh, baby," she hums, setting up her blue-flames-in-a-jar night lamp, dimming the room's lights, as Sirius walks over to the crib and gently sets down the sleeping toddler.

And then she's by his side, nudging him slightly away, so that she can bend and place a kiss on Harry's forehead, and he lets her do that, an amused smile on his face.

"Shouldn't we change his clothes?"

"Nah, we'll deal with that tomorrow. His diaper should last another twelve hours – I changed it in the restaurant," she says, absolute adoration written on her face as she looks at Harry.

Sirius thinks it's a good thing that there's someone who looks like that at Harry. It makes him wonder if his own mother ever looked at him or Auriga that way. Chances are, that egomaniac was too busy looking at her own reflection in the mirror.

Soon, they're outside the room, shutting the door halfway, as usual. Isobel's shifts her weight from leg to leg, and she looks like she has something to say. So Sirius, instead of making a hasty exit to his room, stands there and looks at her expectantly.

"I want to say thank you, for coming out to Madame Tussaud's today. And for putting up with my general PMSing. And for having my back, in general. And for indulging all my photo whims. And–"

He can't help it, he cuts across, a genuine smile on his face, "You're welcome, Isobel. I had a lovely time too. You don't have to thank me–"

"No, there's more," she says loudly, wringing her hands. She's obviously uncomfortable, and she's never been that way with him. "That Auror, the one with pink hair... I don't know why I told her what I did– actually, no, I know why I told that. I didn't like the idea of you and her together. But that wasn't right on my part. I had no right to do that. If you want to date her, you should. You don't need my permission or anything, I'm just an idiot–"

"Bella?" he interrupts her rambling.

"Yeah?" she pauses for a breath.

"Backtrack. Why don't you like the idea of me and Linda together?" he asks, feeling very Slytherin at the moment. He has a feeling he knows what she's going to say, but he isn't sure whether he wants to hear it. What would James say? This is James' daughter. On paper. But she never calls James her dad; James can't hold Sirius responsible for his less than platonic feelings towards Isobel.

Isobel opens her mouth and closes it twice, before meeting his eyes dead on with her green ones. And then she proves why she's a Gryffindor.

"I like you, Sirius. I really like you. I've liked you as more than friends for quite some time now. I don't know if you feel that way towards me, but if what you feel towards this Linda is an iota of what I feel for you, then you should go out with her."

Sirius lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and pauses for a moment to take her in –her eyes are blazing, and she's earnest, and she's beautiful and all Sirius wants to do is kiss her.

But this is Lily and James' daughter, and he owes them his sanity.

He'll do it right.

For them.

And for Isobel.

Because she deserves it.

"I suppose the natural progression here would be for us to go on a date. So Isobel Potter, will you go out with me?"

She stares at him, as though she can't quite comprehend what he's asked.

"Wait, you like me back?"

"I just asked you out. What does that imply?"

"Uhh."

"Will you go out on a date with me or not, Isobel?" he asks, feeling like the prat he was to girls back in Hogwarts.

"Yes," she says softly, before nimbly leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. And then she disappears into her room, before he can say Ambrosius Merlin.

He rubs the place on his cheek where she'd kissed him, as he enters his room, his skin till tingling, and smiles broadly.

OoOoO

The next morning has him signing into the massive library of the Board Of Affinity And Arts. He'd found Helen's collection to be conspicuously lacking about religious wards, and Rafal had surprisingly been unhelpful – Sirius can't help but feel something's not quite right here; something's fishy.

There are passages of text that stand out, that he's marked and kept aside. Harry's probably the only person Sirius will ever make notes for and be a proper little nerd, because if there's something sinister in Flamel's house, then it's his job, as godfather, to protect Harry.

It doesn't help that he already feels he's failed his godson – had it not been for his insistence that Pettigrew be the Secret Keeper, Harry wouldn't be an orphan today.

Sirius reads over the passage he's made a copy of. It's a very brief paragraph, but it's a perfect summary of all the information he's found so far, which isn't much.

'Religious wards have existed as long as the concept of religion has existed. These wards act both ways, both to keep undesirable beings objects out, or in. While of little interest to warders for whom the practicality of this branch of warding is now lost, religious wards are of great significance to exorcists and other occultists. Due to a lack of professionally religious warders, many exorcists have taken to seeking the help of local priests and rabbis to build and maintain the integrity of the wards.

Religious wards play on the fears and beliefs of the entity wishing to pass through, and are thus selectively permeable. The casting of such wards requires a deeper understanding of the meaning of life and the metaphysical implications of one's existence in the larger scheme of things.'

Sirius can't help but wonder if Master Septimus didn't teach him about religious wards on purpose – could it be that he, Sirius, wasn't enlightened enough to understand the meaning of life? Sirius wants to be annoyed with the older man, but he finds that he doesn't have the heart to be so – Septimus Heap had been a brilliant teacher.

After spending a few more fruitless hours in the library, where he learns nothing new from the material at hand, Sirius decides to head back home. If he wants to access the deeper levels of the library, he'll need permission from one of the relevant Guardians, and Sirius has no doubt they'll try to wrangle a marriage deal out of his need for information.

Once he's out of the official BAA HQ, he calls for one of his least favourite persons in the world.

"Kreacher!"

"What does my Blood Traitor Master want today?" asks the house-elf snidely, and Sirius wants to kick the elf where it hurts the most.

"I want you to catalogue all the books about religious wards in all the Black libraries I am entitled to have access, and report your findings by the coming Friday," he says, taking great care to be explicitly clear with his instructions; Kreacher is the ultimate Slytherin, always looking for loopholes.

"As Master wishes," says the house-elf, bowing low, and Sirius wonders how Auriga had ever found such a loathsome creature adorable.

"Is that all?"

"For now, yes. You may leave. And do not involve my mother in any of these tasks."

"Of course, sir. I find it my duty to inform you that my dearest Lady Black frets everyday if you will be conceiving a child out of wedlock with the Half Blood witch that you share your quarters with, my poor Mistress."

Before Sirius can react, like asking the elf to fuck off, Kreacher is gone with a loud crack, and he's just left there, staring at a tuft of grass.

OoOoO

Gina's never been afraid before.

Even when her worthless husband had left her after knocking up the witch down the street, she hadn't been afraid of life; she'd known she would plod on.

But she's afraid now, afraid of this Jeoffrey that Anna keeps talking of. This Jeoffrey that Anna becomes every now and then.

The healer thinks she should call in a soothsayer, see what there is to say about this situation. Children on the street are already staying away from her Anna, people are whispering when she goes to the market. It's only a matter of time before Aurors fly in to investigate.

And then what?

Will her daughter be taken away to a psychiatric ward? Or if it's something darker, something she doesn't want to think about, will they cast her in Nurmengard?

Gina knows she isn't the most affectionate of mothers, but that doesn't mean she wants to see her only child be taken away from her. Whatever is wrong, it can be set right, won't it?

There are four sharp raps on the door, and Gina hurries to the window to see who it is – an old crone of a woman stands there, bent over, her wrinkled hand clutching her staff tightly.

Relieved for no apparent reason, Gina opens the door – this woman is the only one apart from the healer to step onto this side of the street in the past month.

"Did Arzt Bergmann send you here?"

The woman nods her head slowly, and Gina steps aside for her to come in.

She slowly climbs the two broad stairs that lie outside the door, and Gina watches, as the old woman pauses on the threshold, neither in nor out.

The woman looks Gina dead in the eyes, and hisses quietly, "Da ist etwas, there is something, the Condemned live here."

OoOoO

§

End Notes:

1. BAA: The Board Of Affinity And Arts. It's mentioned in the 12th chapter, where Helen explains why Bella needs to write her OWLs.

2. The wax museum described is Madame Tussaud's. I don't know if the layout of the building forty years back is similar to the current layout.

3. Guardians of Arts – mentioned in the passing in chapter 3.

Guest review replies:

Isabella: Thanks a lot for feeding my Harri Musumeci addiction. ;) And thanks for reading and reviewing. :D When you put it that way, my heart breaks for Sirius. :/

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Guest: Thanks! Kreacher really is the best! xD

Guest: You're the first person to pick on the Sound of Music reference! :D

Guest, Guest and mmm, thanks for reading and reviewing. :)

1k+ follows and 1k+ favourites – I'm humbled. Thanks for the support, you guys are the best. :)

I'm changing my name to broken barriers, just letting y'all know. And I've started a new femHarry/Sirius fic, which I'd love to receive feedback on, if you feel so inclined.

Did you notice that Sirius slipped and called her Bella? And they're going on a date! Did you like the Sirius POV?

Thanks for reading, reviews are love. :)