This chapter sort of contains HALF-BLOOD PRINCE SPOILERS. Sort of.

A/N: IT IS DONE. The finale of part one. You may hate it. You may even like it. Either way, I'd love to hear about it.

Lost: Small Boy, Answers to Harry

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Sirius slept uneasily through what was left of the night. Thoughts of his godson's future rushed through his head, swirling around and around. Everything it would mean to Harry, to be a werewolf. The prejudices he would face from his peers, the difficulties he would have as an adult. Lupin always claimed he managed a normal life, but that was a very optimistic approach. The reality was that the world was not kind to people like Lupin and Harry.

As if Harry didn't have enough to worry about already! As if the burden of such a prophecy was not burden enough for one child! As if the danger of living as two people, one ordinary and one a monster, was not dangerous enough! Harry would have to live a hunted life, sought by you-know-who until he was old enough to face him. A hunted life, a haunted life. His childhood would be short. His life might be shorter.

And how was Sirius to raise a child? He was an auror! He would never be at home, and he couldn't very well take Harry on missions with him. How could he help Harry through the monthly transformations when he was off hunting dark wizards in Bulgaria, or Egypt, or some god-forsaken Pacific Island in the middle of nowhere? I can't be a father! Sirius thought savagely, and at that moment he swore that he would save every penny he could manage in order to pay for Wolfsbane, the expensive new potion that might ease Harry's transformations, and also make him easier to deal with when he was a wolf.

I'm all he's got left, he realised suddenly, and I won't let Dumbledore take him away. Lily had a sister – perhaps Dumbledore wants Harry to go and live with muggles! No, I won't allow it.He began to plan out his arguments to convince the headmaster to hand custody over to Sirius.

He thought about all the adjustments he would have to make in order to accommodate Harry into his life. He would have to find a proper house, not just that tiny flat in the basement of Mundungus Fletcher's place. He would have to find a nanny to look after Harry when he wasn't at home. He couldn't leave his unwashed clothes lying around the house, or Lily's ghost would strike him down for corrupting her son. He would have to find a book on domestic management spells. He'd have to learn to cook. He'd have to stop drinking altogether (except maybe a little, at the auror's annual Halloween party.)

These thoughts kept him tossing and turning as the night wore on, but at last he fell into a dreamless sleep and awoke to sunlight filling the room and a ragged old wizard on the next bed snoring loudly, with a large cactus growing out of his forehead.

Sirius rubbed his eyes and rolled over to look at the golden clock hanging on the wall above the door, which declared that the time was ten o'clock in the morning and nobody in the general vicinity had anything to fear from their day's astrological charts. He had showered, shaved and been given new clothes the night before, and he rolled out of bed and sleepily pulled them on, blinking to try and wake himself up.

A green-robed healer with her grizzled hair pulled into a bun bundled into the room, carrying a tray of cereal and watery orange juice.

"Good morning, Mr Black," she said with a fierce eagle-like stare, "I'm Healer Madison. And you must be the one Miss Jones is so fluttered about."

"Whuh?" Sirius blinked. Madison put tray down on the table and raised her eyebrows.

"Not too bright, I see," she said enigmatically, "well, I guess it's a matter of taste. You know, she actually wanted to go gallivanting through London to come and rescue you? Goodness, I wouldn't let my daughter anywhere near a man like you. But then, I wouldn't let her become an auror, either."

Sirius shook his head, "sorry, I'm afraid I seem to have earned an unfashionable reputation in advance. Hestia's here? In the hospital?"

"Yes, she's just down the hall, but you're not to go bothering her now, she just had that anti-apparating hex removed from her and I don't want you whisking her off somewhere," she tapped the tray were her wand and milk poured out of thin air and into the bowl of cereal, "now eat up while I take yours off too, you're still sick as a dog."

Oblivious to the pun she had unintentionally made, Madison stood over Sirius and tapped her wand on his shoulder and chest to remove the anti-apparating hex while he diligently ate the cereal and swilled down the watery orange juice.

"Can I see my godson now?" Sirius asked at last, when she announced the hex was gone and picked up the tray.

Madison frowned, "your godson…? Oh," her eyes widened and a look of sympathetic sadness can over her face, "yes, of course. You know where he is? Go ahead. I'll just drop this with one of the house-elves."

He found his way to the elevator and down to the first level. He had to pause outside the door to the Dai Llewellyn ward, steeling himself. Then he went in and faced Harry for the second time.

His godson was awake, and wearing his glasses even though his right eye was covered up. One of the healers had just finished redressing the bandages on his face, and was checking the Wolfsbane in the enormous topaz bottle. She looked up and gave Sirius a small smile.

Harry looked around and a grin broke across his face. Sirius was by his side an instant later, trying to hug Harry without hurting him and kiss him without disturbing the fresh bandages, and ending up bumping heads and getting the button on his sleeve caught on Harry's cast. Harry raised his good arm, locked it around his godfather's neck and refused to let go. Sirius had to kneel by the bed and lean forward uncomfortably, but he didn't care, he didn't even notice.

"They said you were here and I didn't believe them," Harry babbled, beginning to cry, "I thought they were making it up to make me feel better but you're here you really are and I'm so glad I'm so glad, I'm so, so happy you're not dead."

"Of course I'm not," Sirius scoffed, grinning at his godson and nuzzling Harry's teary cheek with his nose, "I'm a big bad auror, and I can get out of any trouble."

Harry closed his eyes and contentment spread across his face. He still hadn't let go of Sirius' neck, "I knew you'd be here. I knew if I found Dumbledore you'd be okay."

Sirius wiped Harry's tears away with his sleeve, "so, you're not scared of Dumbledore any more? He's not so bad once you get to know him, huh?"

"He's enormous!" Harry cried, "but he was very nice. He brought me breakfast and asked me how I was feeling. He had a look at my scar, too," Harry tried to raise his broken arm to touch his forehead, winced, and lowered it again.

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked seriously.

"My chest hurts," Harry said dismissively, "and my face and stuff, and my arm. And my other arm where you're leaning."

"Oh, sorry," Sirius moved his elbow.

"It's okay. That's all that hurts. And the healer gave me some pills that make it better, and she did some spells with her wand that make my feel all lighter, like I got balloons in me or something. It hurt worse last night. I kept waking up and I was all by myself in this big room here, and it hurt so much, and I cried a bit, but the healer came and she said she'd do a spell to help me sleep, and I guess she did because I don't remember anything after that."

"What do you remember about last night?" asked Sirius softly.

Harry frowned, "when?"

"After you left Charlie's house," Dumbledore had told Sirius all the events that had lead up to Harry's return to Lupin's cottage.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry said, his voice growing very quiet, "I mean, I think I understand. Moony's…um…Lie-can-thra-pee. It means he turns into the werewolf, doesn't it?"

Sirius nodded.

Harry sniffed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make such a fuss. Moony is okay though, isn't he? When I asked Dumbledore, he said Charlie's dad rescued me but he might have hurt Moony a little bit."

"Moony's fine," Sirius assured him. His voice had grown hoarse, and he tousled Harry's hair as he tried to smile and blink back tears, "he's a bit shook up, but he's going to be fine."

Harry nodded, and finally released his hold on Sirius' neck. The conversation turned to ordinary, childish things, as Harry told Sirius in broken, muddled pieces all his adventures since they had been separated all those days ago. Sirius learned all about his first cousin (once removed) Tonks, and about Charlie Weasley who had flown Harry on a broomstick, "I'm going to fly broomsticks when I'm older, that's gonna be my job," Harry assured Sirius, and about all Charlie's brothers and sisters, "there's Fred and George, and I can't tell which one is which! I really can't! And there's Ron, and he showed me his collection of beetles, he told me all about what his Dad does, and there's the little girl, she was kind of annoying, she kept following me around," and Sirius was told eagerly about how messy the Burrow was, "Mum would've done her nut if I made that much mess," he said, "I'm so jealous of Ron. He's gets to live in a house that's full of mess and he's always got someone to play with, with all his brothers."

"Well, I'm sure, if you like, we could visit the Weasleys whenever you wanted to," said Sirius.

Harry's face lit up, and then winced again, as smiling pulled at the cuts on his face, "you mean…I'm going to come and live with you?"

"Well, if Dumbledore allows it," Sirius said, "I think he wants you to go and live at Hogwarts. He said he has to talk to me, because I'm your legal guardian."

"Oh," said Harry, "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"No! Of course not!"

"That's alright," Harry looked relieved, "I just mean, he is a teacher."

"I should probably go and talk to him right now," said Sirius, "I'll be back once I've finished. Then maybe we can talk about you coming to live with me."

"Okay, but I'm going to sleep now," said Harry, turning his head to give Sirius a kiss, "so you can talk to me but I won't talk to you."

Sirius laughed and got up to leave. At that moment, he heard a commotion out in the corridor.

"Let me be," a voice said loudly, "for goodness' sake, let me go!"

The voice of a young healer replied angrily, "well, go then! It's not as if I know best! I'm not medically trained or anything!"

The door was pushed open and Remus Lupin limped into view. Sirius stood shock still, feeling his smile vanish from his face. Lupin leaned heavily on the doorway, one hand clutching the wood with white knuckles and tugging at his hair with his other hand. He saw Sirius, and then his eyes flicked to Harry and a look of utter misery swamped his face. He shook his head slowly, as if trying to awaken from a nightmare.

Sirius walked to the doorway without meeting Lupin's eye. If he looked at Lupin, he didn't know what he would do.

But Lupin looked at him and said, in a voice filled with desperation, "I couldn't stop. I couldn't. Please … don't make this harder for me …"

"I have to speak with Dumbledore," said Sirius, still staring over Lupin's shoulder at the young healer bobbing anxiously in the background.

"Please, Sirius," Lupin pleaded, "look at me."

Sirius looked at him. His eye was swollen and bloodshot, and a bandage covered the bloody bite on his neck where Sirius had sunk his teeth in. The burns seemed to have been healed already, by the magical creams the healers would have applied as soon as Lupin was brought to the hospital.

Yes, Lupin would heal. He would not have scars. He would have no brand to show where Sirius had so nearly ripped his throat out. But Harry's scars would never heal, and Harry would be forever changed.

Sirius felt the fury rip through him again. He twitched, and realised he had grabbed the front of Lupin's shirt and slammed him against the doorway. His faces was inches from Lupin's nose, and his teeth were bared in a grimace. Lupin tensed but did not struggle. He stared at Sirius.

"Stop it! Oh! Goodness! Stop it!" the young healer beat weakly at Sirius' back, "no fighting in the hospital! Stop it!"

Realising what he had just done, Sirius released Lupin's shirt and turned away. He could hear Lupin gulping deep breaths.

"Don't you hate me," Lupin said quietly, "don't you dare let me hate myself. How can you blame me? You, of all people?"

Sirius balled his fists and looked from Lupin to Harry. His godson was sitting upright, staring at him with a confused expression, "you could have stopped it," he hissed through his teeth, "you could have told him not to follow you, you could have told him why. You could have…taken Wolfsbane…anything…"

Lupin gaped at him, and Sirius realised how stupid he sounded. How could Lupin possibly afford Wolfsbane when he could barely afford to patch his own robes? How could he possibly have made Harry understand the danger?

Lupin closed his eyes and turned his head away. Sirius stormed out into the corridor and left the ward behind, trying to get his anger back under control. He knew that before long he would be washed by guilt. Tomorrow, he would probably be begging for Lupin's forgiveness. But right now, it was too raw. What had happened, what Lupin had done.

Dumbledore was just down the hallway talking to one of the healers, a man with a floppy grin and his hair combed flat, a healer named Trefusis. When he saw Sirius he excused himself and walked to met him.

"Good morning," the headmaster raised one eyebrow, "or apparently not, if your expression is anything to go by."

Sirius just shook his head, took a breath and felt himself calmed once more, "you said you had more to tell me about the prophecy. I need to know."

Dumbledore sagged as if he had hoped Sirius would not ask, "yes," he said quietly, "but not here. Er…Madison," he snagged the elderly healer as she went past, "is there somewhere more private where I could talk to Mr Black?"

"Of course, headmaster. My office is just above us," she pointed at the ceiling, "next floor up, at the first corner you come to. My name's on the door. It should be unlocked."

"Thank you immensely," Dumbledore told her, "Sirius, we will speak there."

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Dumbledore sat down in Healer Madison's chair and Sirius took a seat across the desk from him. He felt strangely nervous. Something about Dumbledore's manner suggested what he had to reveal about the prophecy was far worse than Sirius had feared.

He waited for Dumbledore to begin. The old wizard did not speak for several moments. Finally he said, "you know that Neville Longbottom is also in this hospital, also bearing a scar on his forehead, also orphaned by the dark lord and sought by his death eaters?"

Sirius nodded, "Hestia and I rescued him. When I thought he was Harry."

Dumbledore nodded, "where am I to begin, Sirius? With the prophecy, I suppose. I told it to James and Lily – do you know what it says?"

"Yes," said Sirius. He had heard it intoned by James on the day they had made him Harry's godfather. He remembered Lily's face, grim and passionate, as if she was proud to bring into the world a child with such a destiny.

"That prophecy was not completely specific. You may or may not know that Alice and Frank Longbottom went into hiding for exactly the same reason as the Potters – because the prophecy seemed to be pointing at their son. They, however, declined the Fidelius charm, even when I offered to be their secret keeper myself. And, as you must know, Voldemort," Sirius tried not to wince at Dumbledore's unexpected use of the name, "tracked them down about a month ago and murdered Frank and Alice. According to the testimony of Neville himself, whom I questioned last night, he then proceeded to cast a killing curse on Neville. But for some reason, of which I am not yet sure, the curse failed to kill Neville. Instead, it rebounded onto Voldemort himself. I do not know what happened then. He seemed to be expecting it because apparently he already had death eaters waiting. They swarmed the house, left the body of a boy in the incinerator – it was a muggle child from one of the nearby villages – and both Neville and Voldemort vanished from the house. I have reason to believe, from trustworthy sources, that Voldemort, though not killed outright, was left living by the thinnest piece of life. However, as I said, he seemed to be expecting it. That very night, he and his followers carried out a ritual, using Neville's blood, to restore him to health. Neville remained with them, seemingly shuffled from outpost to outpost, until he happened to be left in the hands of your cousin Bellatrix, and was subsequently rescued by yours and Hestia's brave efforts and brought to the hospital."

Sirius leaned forward, filled with excitement, "and this is what happened to Harry? Voldemort branded him by casting the killing curse – but for some reason, it didn't work?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He seemed to be struggling to keep some painful emotion at bay. At last he said, in the softest voice imaginable, "no, Sirius. This is not what happened to Harry."

Sirius frowned, and waited for the explanation.

"Sirius, have you ever heard of a horcrux?" asked Dumbledore.

Sirius frowned, "er…yes, once. It's like, one half of your soul, isn't it?"

"It is a vessel in which a piece of a person's soul is contained," Dumbledore explained, "it is achieved by the act of murder, preceded by certain rituals, and a fragment of the soul is trapped inside an object which then anchors it to earth, so that even if the body is destroyed, the soul remains tethered and can be revived."

Sirius listened in silence. He felt a little drop of fear begin to spread in the back of his brain.

"This, I now know without a doubt, is how Voldemort kept himself from death on the night of the Longbottoms' murders. But I think he has not made one Horcrux, but many – how many, I fear to guess. I believe he is trying to collect seven. Four nights ago, he made another. I think he has long planned to use a living vessel for at least one of his horcruxes, and a month ago, two events coincided – he found and branded the child who is prophesised to be his downfall, and a man named Peter Pettigrew told him he could hand him the Potters. Well, Voldemort lets nothing go to waste. He now knew that Harry was no threat, since he was sure the prophecy was indicating Neville, but he had been searching for the Potters for four years. It seems he found some poetic justice in creating a second child who could be his deliverance. He went to the Potters, and, from what Harry told me, used Lily's death as the means to split his soul and implant the torn fragment of it in its new host. Harry."

Sirius shook his head. He raised his hands, then lowered them, balled his fists. He looked at the floor, then at Dumbledore, than at a pen resting on Healer Madison's desk. Then he said, "you mean this. You mean that Harry is one of these – Horcrux – things. You're saying that the mark on his forehead means that…that he has a piece of you-know-who's soul inside of him?"

Dumbledore looked at him, but did not need to reply.

Sirius pushed himself to his feet. He put his face in his hands, then onto the desk, stared at them, and raised his head to look at Dumbledore, "why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"Because, Sirius," said Dumbledore heavily, "I wanted you to spend some time with Harry first. I wanted you to be able to look at him without the burden of this knowledge."

Sirius sat down and buried his face in his hands. Then he lowered his arms slowly, "the burden of what knowledge?" he said quietly, and coldly, "what haven't you told me?"

He had never seen Dumbledore look so old or weary, "you have guessed this already."

Sirius shook his head. He knew, and denied, what Dumbledore was about to tell him, "tell me!"

"Sirius, before Voldemort can ever be defeated, all of his horcruxes must be destroyed."

There was a silence so complete in the room that all the sounds from the corridor outside were magnified. Sirius could not breath. He could hear is own heartbeat ringing in his ears. He almost fancied he could hear Dumbledore's heartbeat as well.

Dumbledore leaned forward and linked his long fingers together, "this is the decision you must make, Sirius. As Harry's guardian. This secret will get out. Tomorrow, or in a month's time, it doesn't matter. I have found out. Soon the ministry will find out. Alastor Moody will find out. Everyone who has even the faintest desire to destroy Voldemort – aurors, wizards, death eaters, they all long for it – will find out. You cannot hide Harry from all of them. They will take him from you by force. And I am quite certain that Alastor Moody, at the very least, will want the most extreme method used."

Sirius did not want to ask, but he couldn't help himself, "which is?"

"The Dementor's Kiss," said Dumbledore, "the only sure way to destroy the piece of Voldemort's soul. And a dementor will not be satisfied with that piece alone. It will take Harry's soul as well."

"No," Sirius balled his fists, "I will never allow that to happen! I would…I would…"

"You would rather Harry were dead," Dumbledore finished.

Suddenly Sirius understood completely what the old wizard wanted him to do. He couldn't believe it for several seconds, drawn out with the silence.

"You know I could never do that," he said, "how could I?"

"You do not have to," Dumbledore replied, "Harry needs Wolfsbane potion. For at least two or three days more, it will be the only thing keeping him alive. You have two days to make that choice, and take Harry off the Wolfsbane. Before that time is up, Moody will probably discover that two boys who are supposed to be dead are recovering in St Mungo's. He will find out the rest of the story not long after. Then he will come for both of them."

Sirius grimaced, then looked into Dumbledore's eyes, "you could take him to Hogwarts," he said, "he'd be safe there. You could protect him where I can't."

Dumbledore shook his head, "no, Sirius, I could not. Sooner or later, Voldemort would come for him. I will not put the lives of every one of my students at risk."

"I'll protect him myself. I can…I can…"

"You cannot protect him forever, Sirius. When the death eaters take him back, your last chance to save him will be gone. Once he is in their hands, what do you think they will do with him?"

"I don't know. This isn't fair. I don't know," Sirius closed his eyes, "you cannot make me do this! He's all I have left of Lily and James!"

"It will not be painful, Sirius. We will give him a potent sleeping draught. The werewolf residue will overcome him very quickly, while he sleeps, and then it will be over. No pain, and the healers will do it for you. You can be by his side. Or, if you prefer not to watch, you can leave once he is asleep."

Sirius pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and forced back the tears. The frustration and agony of Dumbledore's words was growing steadily inside him. But he stuffed it back down.

"I am truly sorry, Sirius," said Dumbledore, "I would do anything to take this back."

"Please," Sirius said, "I can't make the decision yet. I just can't. Let me be alone, just for a day, an hour even."

"Of course," said Dumbledore. He got up and came around the desk, and spoke kindly, as if to a child, "come, I'll take you back to the ward you slept in last night. You can stay there. When you're ready, ask one of the healers to contact me. I must return to Hogwarts for now, but as soon as you need me, I will come back."

Sirius nodded dumbly and, head drooping, allowed Dumbledore to lead him back to the elevator and up to the ward upstairs.

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As soon as he had closed the door on Sirius' ward, Dumbledore called for Healer Trefusis. The man came quickly, with two burly male nurses by his side.

"Thank you for agreeing to this, Trefusis," the headmaster said heavily, "I can hope that he will do as I have asked, but at this point I do not know what he will do. Just make sure he doesn't leave this floor until he is ready to contact me."

"Of course, headmaster," said Trefusis. He and the two burly nurses took positions on either side of the door, like bodyguards.

Dumbledore nodded and walked back the elevator. He felt drained and bleached by a roaring sun. Had he ever done anything as difficult as that? Had he ever told anyone anything crueler than this?

But what other choice did he have? Before Voldemort could be killed, a child had to die. Like a plague, everything Voldemort had touched and infected had to be burned. The pain he caused went beyond direct destruction. All the terrible things that had happened over the last few days could be linked back to that one cruel spell, transforming an ordinary boy into a vessel for further evil.

With these macabre thoughts spinning through his head, Dumbledore went about the hospital, making sure Healer Madison understood what she must do when he came back, and arranging for a few more healers to come to Hogwarts to replace those that were still tirelessly trying to nurse the injured students. Thoughts of the attack on the Hogwarts Express hardened Dumbledore's resolve – that attack would never have taken place if Harry Potter had not been on that train.

For a moment, he considered looking in on Harry to say goodbye before he went back to Hogwarts, but decided against it. After everything he had just revealed to Sirius, he could not talk to the boy as if nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

He did look in on Neville, and said goodbye. Healer Wenceslas was reading Neville a book about toads and Neville was chuckling happily as he waved to Dumbledore, oblivious to the task that fate had dealt him and hardships he would one day have to face. Dumbledore went on.

As he entered the reception, he saw Hestia Jones dash over to catch up with him. Goodness, doesn't that girl have somewhere to be? He thought.

"I'm glad I caught you," she panted, "I'm just about to take off. Kingsley's coming around to show to me to the new auror headquarters."

"Ah, and you will finally get to meet the new Minister Moody?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, and give the old windbag a piece of my mind," muttered Hestia, "I'll show him, Headmaster, you just see."

"I would love to see that, Hestia," Dumbledore told her, "and I wish you luck."

"Thanks. I just wanted to say goodbye to Sirius before I left. Have you seen him?"

"He's in a ward on the fourth floor. Where he slept last night," Dumbledore told her.

"No he isn't," said Hestia, "I was just up there. It's locked."

Dumbledore frowned, "you must have gone to the wrong ward. I was just saying goodbye to him half an hour ago. I assure you he is still there."

Hestia shook her head, "no, I'm telling you, I went up to that ward, and it's all locked up. It wouldn't even open when I tried shooting a couple of spells at it. Er, not that I tried," she added hastily.

A small frown creased Dumbledore's forehead. He turned and sped back towards the elevator. Hestia called after him, but he did not reply. He pressed the button for the lift but when nothing happened after several second he walked swiftly towards the stairwell and took off up it, Hestia running to keep pace behind him.

Albus Dumbledore pushed open the door to the first floor. A mass of green robes met his eyes: it seemed every healer in building was congregating outside the Dai Llewellyn ward. They parted like fishes as Dumbledore approached.

Only Remus Lupin remained standing beside the door, looking bemused. He saw Dumbledore and his face hardened, "what's going on? Where'd he take Harry? Why was he so angry at you?"

Dumbledore did not reply. The door to the Dai Lewellyn ward had been flung open. The bed where Harry had lain was empty, the covers thrown back and the instruments on the table hurled aside. The great bottle of Wolfsbane was also gone. From the crowd behind, one healer yelled, "someone come help! There's death eaters in the building! Trefusis and two nurses have just been found stupyfied in a closet on the fourth floor!"

Before panic could break out, Dumbledore's voice rose about the frightened muttering of the crowd, "there are no death eaters," he roared, and at once everyone was silent, "there are no death eaters," he repeated, then turned to Lupin, "where did he go?"

Lupin shook his head, "I don't know. He apparated. Hey," as Dumbledore turned, Remus grabbed his sleeve, "please, tell me what's going on. He was so angry…"

Dumbledore shook his head, "he's gone. He's taken Harry and gone."

"You mean, he is working for you-know-who?" Lupin's jaw dropped, "he's taking Harry to the death eaters? But they'll kill him!"

"No," said Dumbledore softly, "he is not working for the death eaters, and they will not kill Harry. Sirius is trying to protect him from everybody else."

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The wind roared across the empty landscape. A few stunted tree sprouted from the rocky hillside. It looked lifeless, and then there was a spot of movement.

A man, his long, dark hair tied back from his face, was crouched in the shelter of a huge, overhanging rock. A small boy, black-haired, and covered in bandages, was huddled under one of his arms. In his lap, the man cradled a huge bottle of some a topaz-coloured liquid, which he was pouring out into a small cup.

"I know it tastes horrible," he was saying to the boy, "but you have to drink it, once every two hours. Otherwise you won't get better."

The boy took the cup and, with a little difficulty because his arm was in a cast, drank as the man had instructed, making a bitter face. He handed the cup back, "what's going on? Why did we come here?" he asked, cuddling closer to his godfather for warmth.

"I'll explain everything later," Sirius assured him, "right now, we just have to stick it out. We're going to need more bandages for you, and some food, and shelter, but we'll get all that. Somehow."

"Where are we going?" asked Harry, staring out across the empty landscape.

"I don't know," the man replied, "I don't know where we're going to do. I don't know what we're going to do. We just have to keep going."

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END OF PART ONE.

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It's finished. For now, of course. I feel happy, and I feel gloomy. What do you feel?

A/N: Some of you will not have liked the ending. I totally understand, and I really, really, want to hear your thoughts about it. Go ahead. Tell me just how angry you are.