The sorting went as Harry remembered it, with only two exceptions. The first was that Professor Moody was present for the entire ceremony instead of arriving halfway through. The second was that, somehow, the Headmaster managed to fix Harry with a look that, while discrete, managed to instil feelings of disappointment in Harry.
The password for Gryffindor tower –arguably the most random variable in a time stream- was even the same. However, the similarities ended there.
When the group walked into the tower, Ron left immediately for the dorms while Hermione followed suit a few minutes later. Otherwise, the rest of the Fourth Years were curious what was up with the howler during last year's farewell feast.
"What was it about Harry?" Asked Parvati after Harry had managed to free himself from Dean and Seamus's clutches. "That howler from last year, I mean."
Harry shrugged in response. "I don't know, though I think I can thank whoever sent the howler for passing all my classes with decent grades as opposed to failing them." Harry managed a weak smile before ducking out of the Gryffindor Common Room.
Harry was wishing that he'd brought his Invisibility cloak with him as he crawled along the edge of walls, making his way to the 7th Floor Corridor where the Room of Requirements was located.
After several close calls –twice with Snape and then once with McGonagall in her cat form- he made it to the stretch of wall and quickly paced in front of it three times. I require a place that is safe from the headmaster to converse, was the gist of what he was thinking, though not quite in as flowery of language. The doorway appeared –as if the stone was molten- and Harry dashed into the room and watched as it sealed up behind him.
Harry turned around as he stepped away from the doorway and almost fell over from what he saw. Hundreds of Phoenixes were scattered around the cavern that had been formed. The natural ledges that were cut into the walls were being used as perches as Phoenixes flamed in and out of the cavern, bearing prey and other goodies.
Harry could've sworn he'd heard the sound of molten magma but dismissed it… until one of the Phoenixes started talking.
.:Welcome, Wizard,:. A Phoenix -Harry didn't know which of the group- 'said' in his mind.
.:Where am I?:. Harry couldn't describe the action, except that he was thinking 'outside' his mind, rather like how he was able to converse with Hermione, but only applied to a greater scale.
.:This is a manifestation of Hogwarts:. The voice said into Harry's mind. .:Think of me as a facet of Hogwarts and this area -the Fiery Caverns if you will- as Hogwarts' 'body':.
.:I think my head is going to hurt after this:. Harry groused.
.:We've followed you for Three Years, Harry Potter:. The voice said sternly. .:We know you're not as dumb as you put on:. A pause, during which Harry had to admit that the voice was correct. .:You can rest assured that no body will hear this conversation unless both of us allow them to, speak freely:.
Harry faced the Phoenix closest to him and began stroking it's feathers before he spoke. "What do you know about time-travel?"
.oOo.
Oh, god, my head hurts.
Cross groaned as he sat up in his bed, blindly groping for his clock radio in the half-light of his bedroom. His hands found it and he raised it up to his eyes, blinking several times before the numbers came into focus. Oh-Four-Thirty in the bloody morning?
That was odd, he was normally a sound sleeper and was able to sleep for eight hours on end, and… he couldn't remember going to sleep. Anxiously smelling his own breath –an involved process that wasn't fit for polite company- he was disappointed to note a lack of alcohol on his breath. The lack of a pounding headache also pointed to a conclusion of him not getting pissed out of his mind. Why the bloody hell don't I remember going to bed? Cross had a near-perfect memory, making the question more ominous than it would be with a normal person.
He threw his covers off as he rotated and walked towards his bedroom door. He opened the door and bit back a curse as light flooded his vision, momentarily blinding him. Once he'd blinked away his blindness, he was able to actually concentrate on his hearing.
"Are you sure that's everything?" A man's voice asked hurriedly. "All I could find was a scrap of this damned light parchment with the Boy-Who-Lived's name written on it."
"What, Harry Potter?" Another man's voice asked.
Harry Potter. Somehow the name was familiar to Cross, something about somebody having to find him to talk to the PM.
"How many other Boy-Who-Lived's do you know?" The first man inquired.
"Shut it you two, he should be out for the next few hours, but we'd better hurry." A familiar voice cut through. "I never should've saved his worthless muggle arse."
Somehow the term muggle meant something to Cross, and the man's voice was threatening to trigger a memory release in his mind. However, they were going through his secret files that he kept at home, and that had to be dealt with.
One of the more 'open' of secrets at MI-5 was that Cross was fully licensed to carry heat. While he didn't carry all the time, it was still a privilege that he made sure to make judicious use of whenever possible. He carefully slunk back into his room, his eyes able to see in the almost lit room much better than they had been.
Able to navigate around his room, he found his closet, opened it carefully, and dug around in it, extracting a Glock automatic pistol after a few seconds. Carefully pushing the cartridge home, Cross cocked the pistol as best he could before peering out of his bedroom door.
He didn't see anybody in the hallway connecting his room to his office and could only see the men's outlines in his office because of the way their shadows played on the wall.
Three, two on the left, one on the right.
Cross wished at that moment that he had a flash bang grenade or the like on hand, as it would be easier to incapacitate them and get the coppers in there then kill or wound two and incapacitate a third. He reached into his pocket and was thankful that he still had his remote.
Everyone involved in his current case carried one; it was a panic button that would bring the SAS, MI-5, MI-6 and/or the local coppers to his location. He couldn't remember what it was for, except that he needed the back up, and he needed it now. He stabbed down the panic button with his thumb and withdrew his right hand and placed it back on his pistol, he'd need all the control that he could muster right now…
"FREEZE!" He yelled as he burst into his office, turning to his right and shooting the man in the head, killing his almost instantly, and turning to face the other two.
The two men –wizards?- were drawing up their sticks –wands?- to face him, confusion evident on their faces. "DROP THE WANDS!" Cross yelled, hoping that the shock would make them do just that. "I SAID DROP THEM!" He reiterated as neither man made a move.
"You have to understand, Michael," the man on the left said, starting to drop the wand. "I was doing what was best to keep my world safe, I didn't want it unmasked by the muggles, magic has to be kept pure."
Cross fixed this man who evidently knew him with his best stare and, in an excellent display of marksmanship shot his wand in half and doing the same to the other man's wand.
The men gave him an astonished look as they contemplated the broken sticks they now grasped. After a few moments of silence contemplation their looks turned into something approaching hatred.
.oOo.
"Wonder why they were so anxious about us being here right now?" Sergeant Ernest Reynolds, London Police, said as he walked up to the door of the house where he'd been ordered to. "Five doesn't usually have us do work like this. They like having their Black Bag teams do their dirty work."
"Theirs is not to reason why." Officer Samantha Dexter, his partner of 3 years, quoted as she moved towards the door. "I just wish I knew what was in there waiting for us."
A gunshot split the night, followed by two more and the police officers were in the house within thirty seconds, breaking the door instead of unlocking it. They didn't see anybody in the house, however the lights were almost all on, giving the place an eerie feel to it.
They didn't shout as they moved in, feeling that it would be counterproductive in a hostage situation like they felt they were likely to discover. Instead, they moved silently, wraith-like, towards the hallway on the left. Once there, they looked down the hallway and they could see the silhouette of a man holding a gun, and the silhouettes of two others –likely men.
Without a word between the two, they moved towards the door and were about ready to shout out the typical 'DOWN ON THE GOUND' that they would in a situation like this when the man holding the gun opened his mouth.
"It's about time you got here." He said conversationally. "I didn't know how long it would take for you to receive me signal and, truth be told, I was resolved to wait here all night."
"Michael Cross?" Sergeant Reynolds asked, cautiously.
"That's me." The man holding the gun –Michael Cross- nodded, keeping his eyes on the two men.
"I think we can handle it from here." Reynolds said. "After we get them in jail…" He let his voice trail off as Cross shook his head in a very definite manner.
"No, I think that the world will be better off if their genetic material is stopped right here." Cross smiled grimly. "Besides, this is as good as a declaration of war… and they haven't signed Geneva so it doesn't apply…"
Reynolds watched in a state of horrified fascination as he watched Cross shoot the man on the left before turning to face the man on the right. "Who sent you?" Reynolds heard him demand.
No answer.
Slap. Who ever said that physical violence wasn't a way to loosen people's tongues?
"Who sent you?" He demanded again.
No answer.
Slap. "Who sent you."
No answer.
Slap. "Who sent you?"
"Madame Bones." Reynolds was horrified to see the man spit out some bloody teeth. "Under orders of Minister Fudge."
"Excellent." Cross grinned ferally before shooting the man and pulling out a tape recorder and pressing the stop button. "Thanks for watching my back in case more of these people showed up. Cross looked down at his watch. "We have to get to the PM."
"You're not going anywhere, Mister Cross." Reynolds heard himself say as he drew his pistol –he was one of the odd coppers that actually were armed. "I just watched you torture a prisoner. I believe you owe me an explanation."
"You can get it as we make our way to the PM." Cross grated out. "It is imperative that we get this information to the PM and let him make the decision."
"Make it quick."
"Magic, real, government, auror." Cross said with a triumphant look on his face.
"What?"
"I'll tell you in the squad."
"This had better be one hell of a story."
"Oh, it is."
.oOo.
When the Squad Car finally slowed down, they were in front of Number Two Downing street and Cross leapt from the car faster that he thought was humanly possible. He sped past the guards, flashing his ID as he went, and was into the building faster than anybody, if they knew the word, could say "quidditich".
Cross found the PM at his desk –despite the hour- and looked at him concerned. There were no outside markings of damage, but he'd seen the files, he knew better than most muggles what Wizards were capable of, and he knew that there was a spy in this office.
"Listen," Cross said to the room. "You'd better tell your master to get his ass over here so fast that he'd think it was yesterday, he has a lot of explaining to do."
The portrait above the fireplace moved and gave Cross a sniff of disapproval. "The Minister answers only to himself," the portrait said in a funny voice. "It does not answer to the likes of you!"
"The likes of me?" Cross thundered. "Your boss, the Minister, has declared War on the Muggle world!" He gave the portrait a venomous look that could've melted stone.
The portrait quickly vanished before reappearing in the portrait. "The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, will be arriving in this lowly office in five minutes." The Portrait announced.
"Agent Cross," the PM said, "what is the meaning of this? I mean-" He was quickly cut off by Cross.
"Not until the Minister of Magic gets his ass here."
The five minutes passed relatively quickly, though strained, and then the fireplace roared to life with green flame and a rather haggard man grasping a bowler hat appeared.
"Now, what is this about War?" The man, Fudge demanded addressing the question to the PM.
"Minister Fudge." Cross said before the PM could answer. "I know that there are such things as Pensives," he ignored the man's gasp of outrage. "Now, if you could get one here in, oh, say, a minute that would go a long ways to helping our relations."
"Now, see here!" Fudge blustered. "I am the Minister of Magic, you simply cannot do this."
"You have thirty seconds." Cross said, looking disinterestedly down at his watch.
"You can't do this!" Fudge said again, Cross thought in some vacant corner of his mind that if he had stamped his foot the effect wouldn't have been any closer to whining.
"Mister Fudge," Cross dropped the honorific on purpose. "I can, and I will do this." He looked down at his watch again. "Fifteen seconds."
"Alright," it appeared that this Fudge would be a wonderful person to play poker with –especially because he evidently couldn't take any pressure- Cross could almost feel the imaginary Quid flowing in!
The Minister threw some powder into the fireplace and then began yelling instructions into the fire. Not ten seconds after he threw the powder into the fire, A large basin on a pillar was thrown into the Minister's waiting arms. "Here it is." Fudge said as he ungracefully set down the pensive.
Cross grinned as he drew the wand that he'd stolen from the first man he'd shot that morning. Had it only been about forty-five minutes ago? The Minister's eyes followed it and become very wide –so wide that Cross probably could've place a teacup on them and used them as saucers.
He remembered what Johnson had taught him about obtaining memories and concentrated hard on the memories in question before moving his wand with the memories and flicking them into the pensive.
"Let's view these, shall we?" Cross asked, his hand falling down to his Glock –hidden by his coat.
"How do we do that?" The PM asked as Fudge moved towards the pensive.
"Just do as the bumbling idiot does." Cross hissed to the PM who moved to the pensive and followed Fudge's example by placing his face into the cool liquid surface.
"That was bloody amazing!"
"Mother of God."
Cross spun around –the Glock already in his hand- before relaxing when he realised that it was the coppers that had brought him here. "Join them in the pensive, it's pretty enlightening for anybody interested in these wand wavers." Cross looked over at the group. "And I think you'll both be involved somehow."
Both Coppers nodded their agreement and they walked over to the pensive and stuck their heads into it.
Fifteen minutes later a shaken PM and victorious Fudge emerged from the pensive. Cross merely leaned against a wall and watched as the inevitable fireworks began.
.oOo.
Harry emerged from the Room of Requirements after what felt like an eternity –his watch told him that almost eight hours had passed- feeling more drained than he had after he'd finished his OWL's.
He ducked into an alcove and pulled his invisibility cloak over his body and melted into the shadows. Using the Marauder's Map Harry navigated the halls of Hogwarts until he noticed something strange.
What the hell are Hermione and Ron doing in Dumbledore's office?
Quickly changing his course, Harry found himself outside the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's Office. Harry sat down on one of the Stone Benches and waited, his system still running, somehow.
After fifteen minutes of waiting Harry watched as Hermione and Ron walked out of the Headmaster's Office. Ron went blundering ahead, straight towards the hallway leading to the Gryffindor Common Room whereas Hermione lingered at the spot, almost as if she'd grown roots.
Harry got up off of the stone bench and followed her as she followed Ron down the hallway. After about a hundred feet worth of passageway –filled with the obligatory twists and turns that every castle had- he made his presence known.
"How was Dumbledore?" Harry said, pulling off his invisibility cloak and sliding his wand up his sleeve for easy drawing later.
Hermione gasped and turned around so fast that it almost seemed as if she had never been facing the other direction. "What makes you think I've been to Dumbledore's Office?" She asked.
"Don't lie to me, Hermione." Harry said flatly. "I know you too well for that to work. "I repeat, how was Dumbledore?"
"He is doing well," Hermione eventually answered. "He seems a bit concerned that you scorn his attempts at keeping you safe and running off to join Sirius… a belief I most fervently share!" Her voice was almost shrill, and high-pitched enough that Harry could see several portraits raising their eyes sleepily.
"Remove Compulsion." Harry intoned as he slashed his wand diagonally up and to the left before accentuating it with a stab towards Hermione's head. He couldn't ever explain how he was able to make his decision, just that he 'willed' it, but he sacrificed some of his magic and broke the bonds the held Hermione's mind captive.
"Harry?" Hermione said in a small voice as she sunk to her knees, rocking back and forth. "Harry?" .:Harry?:. She cried out in her mind.
Harry crouched down and picked her up in a fireman's carry and lifted her up before starting to walk towards the Gryffindor Common Room.
He raced with Hermione –who was now grasping him around his neck for better stability- down the hallways until he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, which was just opening for Ron.
Harry scurried through the portrait hole as Ron disappeared into it and managed to collapse on the couch after setting Hermione down in another. He closed his eyes and let himself drift into the arms of Morpheus.
.oOo.
"I have had enough of this!" Fudge screamed at the PM. "I will not be lectured to by muggles about morals!" He started yelling again. "You are no better than animals, being unable to do magic! The oldest muggle will live to about eighty seven, whereas any Wizard worth anything will live for at least a hundred years!"
The PM regarded Fudge with cold eyes. "I find your bigotry rather… upsetting." He said calmly. "I would like it if you could go somewhere else to express your feelings on the subject, such as to your Lord Voldemort." The PM raised up his hand with two fingers extended, forming a "V".
"In the years that I've held this office, I've received two visits from you, once when I took office and then a visit last year about the Sirius Black situation. You conveniently left out the fact that he never had a trial!
"I think my American Counterpart would have a few words for you too," the PM continued. "I believe that their Declaration of Independence opens with a line that your world could take to heart, in a nutshell it states that all humans are equal."
"Now look here!" Fudge started to draw his wand, but stopped when he saw the two coppers and Cross start drawing their respective weapons. "You cannot do magic." He reiterated. "It is the view of the Government of the Peoples of Britain that you are not fully human."
"False." The PM said before opening a drawer on his desk and pulling out a photocopy of an old document. "Do you know what this is a copy of, Minister?" He said, his vindictiveness hidden just below the surface.
"No, I'm afraid that one muggle document looks just the same to me as any other." Fudge shrugged.
"It's not a muggle document." The PM interjected. "Well, not entirely muggle in any case. This is the Magna Carta, the Great Charter. It did more than just establish that all are equal under the law, it forever placed the Magical Governments of what would become the United Kingdoms of Great Britain, Wales and Northern Ireland under their respective muggle governments. In essence, you work for me."
"What?" Fudge's face purpled. "There's no way that the magical people would accept that!"
"We were at War." The PM said flatly. "And we were winning. Your people just didn't have the population nor the means of killing at a distance like we did. So, the Magna Carta served not only to end the war, but to establish other important parts of the Muggle Government."
The PM then pulled out a photocopy of another photocopy of a piece of paper.
"This is a copy of the Disraeli Inheritance." He said gravely. "In rough terms the Crown gave up it's power over the Magical World and gave it up to Parliament and, in return, received several bonuses." The gave a feral smile. "It looks like you are well and truly out of luck, Minister." He said with the hint of a smug grin starting to show. "Anything else you'd like to add before I add a final nail into your coffin?"
"No." Minister Fudge's back slumped, he knew when he was defeated. "I don't want you to add anything to my complete humiliation." He said. "How will I explain to the voters that I let the Wizarding World be uncovered by muggles?" He lamented.
"I'm positive that we could reach a mutually acceptable conclusion, Minister Fudge." The PM said, scanning his documents.
.oOo.
Harry called the ring of Goblin runes into being with the practiced motions that Redclaw had taught him before calling another ring and forming the outline of a sphere with the two rings. Inside the pseudo-sphere the time blinked as if it was a digital clock.
05:49
Groaning as he moved, Harry looked over at Hermione -who was still asleep on a couch- before trying to fall asleep again. After several attempts at this, Harry decided that he wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep, despite his best efforts.
Instead he switched tacks, breaking open one of the books he'd nicked from Sirius's 'cottage' and using the Goblin Runes to create a directional light that would shine on his book until he stopped it. Totally ignoring the fact that it was advanced magic in favour of his book, Harry never noticed an envelope fall out of the book's back cover.
Harry moved to turn his page only to have a hairy cat-devil tear the book out of his hands before curling up in Harry's lap. Despite the fact that Crookshanks only tolerated Harry half the time, he was willing to put up with the demon-cat if only for Hermione's sake. Harry reached down to grab the discarded book and his fingers brushed along the edges of the envelope.
He pulled up the envelope -addressed simply to: Cub- before opening it and pulling out the letter.
Dear Cub
I feel that I owe both you and Hermione an apology on the behalf of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. What I did was inexcusable and I don't think that I'll be able to bring myself to forgive myself if our relationship doesn't ever recover from this bout.
As I write this you and Hermione are holed up in my old study doing god only knows what. George has been kind enough to check in with me after watching you two for a little while after delivering your meals.
However, Harry, if you would let Moony or I just finish our jobs and let us apologize to you more would've been made clear, but you wouldn't let us say anything until lately and it seems that apologies are not needed in that case.
Anyway, I'm tired -it's only a day until you have to leave for the Weasley's and it's about two hours until you and Hermione make your, normal break for bed.
Included in this letter are two tickets for the Earl's Concert this year. You know I enjoy my music -even the muggle bands- and I think that you and Hermione would benefit from exposure to Pink Floyd.
Send me a not with Hedwig when you have an answer,
Sirius
Harry looked down at the parchment, vowing silently to not let himself drift further from the whole reason he'd had for going back in time. It was simply something he didn't want to do, despite the fact that he'd gone and done it.
Maybe he should take Sirius up on his offer?
A/N: Here it is! I've been working on this chappy bit by bit lately, trying to get it just as I like it... and, truth be told, it's not my favourite chapter I've ever written, but it has to happen. In response to those who say that it's unrealistic that Sirius and Harry split over 'so little', well, I had the feeling that, had I been hit by a stunner, I would've been pissed and not want to talk to those two, or, had I already forgiven them, listen to their apologies all the time.
Anyway, I like the characters of Sirius and Moony too much to let them sit for too long. Like I promised, Hermione is now free of the Compulsions, 2 chapters, just like I said.
I'll prolly work in another letter from Sirius in the next chapter bringing up the Dark Mark Incident since more than a few people have brought that up and are wondering what happened.
Please Read and Review!