A/N: Okay, no one likes lengthy author's notes, but there are a few things I need to say...

First, I know this took ages, and I am truly sorry. I got stuck near the end and couldn't get anything done for weeks. Insomnia, stress, exhaustion and working my way through and around canon took their toll. So I can only hope that you are still with me! Rest assured that I won't abandon this story!

Secondly, this is a story about Harry & Sirius. But since the story is largely out of Harry's POV, probably not all chapters will have Sirius in person, but in the end it is all about him! ;)

Last, this is un-beta-ed due to virus problems of my wonderful beta, ambush99, but the edited version will be up soon. I was just so happy I got this finished I wanted it up and you able to read it!

Like always, thanks goes to my comrade in arms, jogger, who always believes in me, and YOU, dear faithful and supportive readers, who stick with me and make it worth all the effort!

Thank you everybody who reviewed! I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, on the other hand some might have got double replies! I was truly swept away by your support! Also: Thank you, dear anonymous readers: Blah, HebHibHob, D, Anonymous, ana, Lauren, Bluemoon, xXAbIdFaNgIrLxX, Wulfweardy, Blakky Star and anigurl28!

Chapter 4 - Bludgeonings of Chance

James? I'm cold. I know. So cold... You have to hold on. Padfoot... you hear me? You have to hold on. For Harry. I know... I promised. Promised to protect him. I will, James, I'll do anything... I just... I just... it's so cold. You can do this. Remember. They can't conquer your soul. Remember, Padfoot. They can't... You are the master of your fate. I am... I am the captain... captain of my soul...

-xoSox-

''Is there anything that you would like to tell me?''

No. If Harry was honest there wasn't much he wanted to tell his stern looking headmaster. On the other hand there was a lot of questions he would have like to ask the old man himself, but he was pretty sure that Professor Dumbledore would not take well to that.

''Ehm...'' Harry said again, not very intelligently, but bereft of any good explanation for his actions that he felt comfortable sharing with the tall white-haired wizard, who just kept studying him, all calm and serious.

''I... went to... I mean, you probably know already, don't you?'' he finally tried. ''That I went to see Sirius?'' Harry thought there had been an almost imperceptible little twitch in the Professors face at the mentioning of his godfather's name, but he couldn't be sure. ''I- I know you didn't really want me to, but there wasn't any need to worry, really... He was great! I mean, very nice, and... we just talked and...''

Looking in the face of his professor, which had grown more and more grave, Harry somehow got the feeling that this wasn't helping.

Dumbledore sighed deeply. ''I really wish you would have listened to me Harry. I don't know what Sirius Black has told you, but please consider what kind of person, and in what kind of positon he is. He is a criminal who has done horrible things, and he will lie to you as easy as it is to breath if he thinks it will be to his advantage. I know that he can be very charming, but you can not trust him. Do you understand that Harry?''

''Yeah, but...''

''Do you trust me, Harry?''

Now that was a mean question. ''Y-yeah...'' Harry said hesitantly, because he honestly couldn't say that he did not trust Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore had always been kind to him, had always had his best interest at heart, hadn't he? The headmaster raised a surprised eyebrow at Harry's tone. ''I do,'' Harry hastily asseverated.

''Then I ask you to trust me on this. I have known Sirius Black a lot longer than you. And I wouldn't have asked you to ignore his request if I had not good reason to worry about your well-being and safety. I'm sure you agree that recklessly risking that, risking your own life in extend, is not the best way to honour your mother's sacrifice.''

Harry lowered his head. He wished Professor Dumbledore would just scold him or punish him and get it over with. But he never did. He always only looked at Harry with this sad and disappointed face that made Harry feel even worse. He felt ungrateful and stupid. And there was just a tiny little voice inside of him, that dared to ask him why he felt so guilty, and whether he really regretted having gone to Azkaban. Well, okay, so maybe he didn't regret it really, not the fact that he had met his godfather. But on the other hand, he had lied, and that was bad, and Professor Dumbledore had good reason to be disappointed and even angry. He should probably have told the headmaster that he wanted to visit Sirius, should have asked him to allow it. But, the tiny little voice insisted, Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed it. Because it wasn't safe. And immediately another bout of guilt settled in Harry's stomach. His mother had died to save him and Dumbledore was right, when he said that risking his own life was no way to pay her back for that. But, the tiny little voice spoke up again, have you really been in danger? Do you really think that Sirius is dangerous? Well, Dumbledore did. And Harry had not openly objected to his Professors declaration. But deep down inside, Harry disagreed. Deep down inside, Harry felt sure that Sirius would never hurt him.

It seemed as if Professor Dumbledore had taken Harry's silence as an agreement though, because with another sigh he took Harry by the shoulder and began to lead him down the corridor.

''You also should have spared a thought to your aunt and uncle. They were shocked when I told them that you had run away without them knowing, and it seems you also lied to them about a doctors visit two weeks ago. They have been very worried about you, Harry.''

Harry could only barely suppress a sarcastic snort. Sure, they had been worried he might accidentally blow up the house. But what he didn't understand was why Dumbledore had talked to them anyway. ''How... I'm sorry Professor, but when have you spoken to the Dursleys, sir?''

''It had come to my attention this afternoon that you have left the house unattended. I went to meet your relatives at a park which is apparently used for a rather puzzling Muggle sport. I thought it seemed a bit unhurried for a competitive sport, but that might just be because we are used to the fast game of Quidditch. Your uncle nearly had a heart-attack when I showed up and told him that you weren't home, Harry. I am afraid that he was very angry, and he refused to have you back this summer. It was only after I assured them that such thing won't happen again, that they agreed to take you back in after the school-year.''

Harry just shrugged, listlessly. He didn't care whether the Dursleys never wanted to see him again. He would have gladly stayed at any other place during the summer. And he knew that the only reason his uncle had been furious, probably was the fact that a strange looking wizard had shown up at his important business event, and it was all Harry's fault.

''So what will happen now, sir?''

''I will take you to the Weasleys,'' Professor Dumbledore said, still not looking at Harry but marching him down the long hall of the Atrium, ''I have spoken with Arthur and Molly Weasley, and they have agreed that you can stay the rest of the summer at their home. Your belongings have already been taken there.'' He paused for a moment, turning to Harry now and piercing him with his bright blue eyes. ''And it goes without saying, that I don't want you to contact Sirius Black again, do you hear me Harry?''

Harry's whole body went tense and he pressed his lips together. He knew that Professor Dumbledore would only accept one answer. And, really, Harry wasn't able to do anything about it. It wasn't as if anyone cared about what he wanted.

''Yes, sir,'' Harry said finally, lowering his head. And while he followed his professor out of the Ministry building with his head bowed, he couldn't help but add in a quiet mumble, ''I hear you.''

-xSx-

They arrived at the strangely warped wizard home of the Weasley family just when afternoon tea had been finished, and were welcomed by a delighted and boisterous crowd of red-haired people.

Mrs Weasley immediately hugged Harry to her mighty chest before she held him on arm's length to study him, and came up with the expected conclusion that he looked much too thin. Ron, Fred and George were grinning at him, and at each other, and clapping him on the shoulder. And a tall young men with long hair and a fang dangling from his left ear, smiled at him in welcome before he reached out his hand, introducing himself as Bill Weasley, Ron's oldest brother.

''Ginny and Hermione went into the village with Charlie,'' Ron said, while Mrs Weasley shoved a cup of tea and a scone at Harry, urging him to sit down and eat, and then turning towards Professor Dumbledore.

''Would you like some tea, Albus? A scone? Please, sit down...''

The white-haired wizard smiled at her apologetically. ''That is certainly a tempting offer, Molly, since these scones look indeed delicious. But I am afraid I have a meeting with the Minister.'' He bowed his head in a gesture of farewell. ''Please give my regards to Arthur, and thank you for taking care of Harry.''

Mrs Weasley immediately waved away any need for gratitude. ''Oh, it's a pleasure,'' she beamed. ''He's a good boy. Don't worry, we will look after him.'' She gazed at Harry fondly, and he blushed a little. Her praise always seemed a bit over-the-top and made him slightly uncomfortable.

Professor Dumbledore on the other hand just looked at him with a serious expression.

''Remember what I have told you, Harry. It is very important,'' he said quietly.

Harry bowed his head and nodded, ignoring the curious expressions of Ron and the other Weasley boys. But as soon as the door had fallen shut behind the headmaster, they were turning to him with excited whispers.

''Is it true that you went to Azkaban all on your own?'' Ron asked wide-eyed.

''Awesome, mate! Did they have dragons?'' George's question earned him a mild slap to the back of his head by Bill.

''There are no dragons at Azkaban, you dummy. And it is not awesome. It is a dark and miserable place. No wizard would set a foot on that rock deliberately.''

''Well, Harry did!'' George said indignantly.

But Harry shuddered slightly when he met Bill's serious eyes. Yes. It had been scary and haunting and horrible. Thinking of the hooded figures that guarded the tower alone made him shiver.

''But did you see criminals?'' Fred butted in, sounding almost hopeful. ''Did you see werewolves?''

Harry shook his head. ''No. I didn't see anybody else. Only my godfather.''

That let the boys fell silent.

''Sirius Black.'' Bill nodded, watching Harry with interest. ''Dad told me he had requested to see you. I understand that you would have been curious. But it was still very risky, Harry. Azkaban is a truly horrible place, as I'm sure you've seen for yourself and-''

''And it's not a place for children,'' Mrs Weasley interrupted him, inexplicably glaring at her sons instead of Harry who, after all, had been the one who against better advice and, if you wanted to believe every adult around him, better judgement had gone there not only once but twice. ''It's dangerous! I can't understand how the Ministry could allow it! '' she went on, stroking over Harry's head and putting another scone on his plate. ''You must have been traumatized, dear.''

''Ehm...'' Harry said, feeling embarrassed and glaring at the snickering Weasely boys, ''It was okay... there was an Auror with me, and she made a silver animal thing that protected us...''

''A Patronus,'' Bill nodded, ''to keep away the Dementors.''

''What are Dementors?'' Ron asked with a frown, and Harry once more shuddered inside.

''They are the guards of Azkaban. They are horrible creatures who survive by dwelling on other peoples misery,'' Bill explained.

''They suck out every happy thought and memory you have,'' Harry whispered. ''It's cruel. No one should have to live like that.''

''Well no decent witch or wizard has to,'' Mrs Weasley said decisively. ''Only people who deserve it get send to Azkaban. And now I don't want to hear another word about this matter, do you hear me?'' she glared at her sons again. ''Go out and do something useful before dinner. The garden needs to be degnomed, and the chicken haven't been fed either.''

With some mumbled complains of the Weasley boys, the twins, Ron and Harry went outside, and while Fred and George started to hunt for the little, gnarled, brownish creatures, Ron and Harry turned towards the chicken den.

''So, how was he?'' Ron asked after a while, ''You know, your godfather...?''

Harry hesitated a moment before he answered. ''Pretty cool, to be honest,'' he said then, trying to give a casual shrug. ''Especially if you consider what he's been through.''

''Huh? What do you mean?'' Ron asked confused.

''He has it pretty bad,'' Harry explained. ''I mean, really bad. He's thin and dirty and wears rags... and then there are the Dementors. They are awful. But... when he was talking to me, he seemed just like a really great guy...''

Ron stared at him with a frown, but then his eyes focussed on something slightly left of Harry's shoulder.

''Oh. Here she comes. Good luck, mate!''

''Harry!'' Hermione shrieked, running up to them and slinging her arms around Harry's neck, hugging him fiercely.

''Ehm... Hermione?'' Harry asked, feeling surprised and a bit embarrassed. He glared at a sniggering Ron, mouthing 'What's with her?', but Ron just shrugged and rolled his eyes, obviously not wanting to rise up to the challenge of explaining their friends strange behaviour.

''Oh Harry...'' Hermione said, and it was clear from her voice that she was really upset.

''What is it?'' Harry asked worried. ''I'm fine, you know. Nothing happened...''

But Hermione pulled back from him, shaking her head. ''You know you shouldn't have done that.''

''Done what?'' Harry asked, starting to feel a bit annoyed. ''Go to Azkaban? Why not? Sirius is my godfather, I have a right to get to know him if I want to!'' he said defensively.

''Harry...'' Hermione looked pained.

''What?''

She hesitated. ''I investigated a bit, like you asked me to...''

''Yeah.'' Harry nodded, not sure at all he liked where this was going. ''And?''

''Harry...'' the bushy-haired girl bit her lip, ''Sirius Black... he was a Death Eater.''

Ron gasped in shock, but Harry just frowned. He thought he had heard that expression somewhere before, but he had no idea what it meant.

''What is that supposed to mean? Someone who's not a vegetarian?'' he asked exasperatedly. But neither Hermione nor Ron seemed to think that was funny.

''It's... it's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves. He was one of them. He was one of V-Voldemort's followers.''

Harry wasn't sure what shocked him more, Hermione using Voldemort's name, or the ridiculous idea that Sirius had been a supporter of the man who killed Harry's parents. Sirius' best friends. Hermione looked at him like she was truly sorry, and Harry wanted to tell her to stop it. Because it wasn't true. It couldn't be.

''That's nonsense,'' Harry said finally, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. ''He couldn't be. He was a friend of my parents, remember? They wouldn't have been friends with someone like that.''

''It was in The Daily Prophet, Harry.''

''Yeah, and we know how reliable that is, don't we?'' Harry sneered angrily. This was stupid. The stupid Prophet had been writing nonsense before. This didn't mean...

Hermione seemed to be fighting back tears. ''I'm sorry,'' she said helplessly. ''But you asked me to...''

''He said his family had a reputation as dark wizards, that's probably why The Prophet would write such a thing,'' Harry said, trying to look at it rationally, explain to his friends why the idea was utterly silly. ''But Sirius is different! Really! He said Muggleborns were just the same as other wizards, that they were even better equipped for life because they have both, the magic and the Muggle knowledge.'' Harry looked from one of his friends to the other. ''It can't be true. They've got it wrong!''

Ron looked doubtful and sorry. ''But what about the murders, Harry?''

Harry hesitated, looking away before he mumbled, ''He said he didn't do it...''

''Oh, Harry...'' Hermione sighed.

''No! I'm not saying that I believe that. I'm just saying that maybe... maybe there is an explanation, maybe it wasn't like it sounds, maybe...''

''He blew up a street Harry,'' Hermione interrupted him. ''In broad daylight, in the middle of London. There were a lot of people around, including another wizard. Thirteen were killed. And afterwards he stood there and laughed!''

Hermione looked at him like she was challenging him to explain that away. Which he couldn't. Because he had not asked Sirius about any of this. If he was honest with himself he probably had not wanted to hear the answers. But now he wished he had asked, because he was sure... there had to be something... Sirius was not a truly bad person... was he?

''Sounds like he's mad, mate,'' Ron said with a shrug. Not very helpful either.

''Look...,'' Harry said desperately, and he wasn't sure whom he was trying to convince, ''I know how it looks. But you haven't met him. He's not like that. Maybe it was an accident. A spell that went wrong...''

''There were eyewitnesses, Harry. And if it was an accident, they wouldn't just send him to Azkaban, would they?''

''No? Look what happened to Hagrid in our second year! He was innocent too! And witnesses can be mistaken.''

Hermione and Ron looked at each other awkwardly, and that was the worst of all.

''I'm not saying he didn't do anything wrong, but... he's my godfather. He... he said... he was really nice. And if all this is true, I want to ask him myself why he did it.''

''Harry...'' Hermione looked at him alarmed.

''Harry,'' Ron swallowed, ''You're not saying... you don't want to...''

''Yeah. I want to go to Azkaban again.''

The expression on Ron's face almost defied description. And Harry was certain that he had never seen Hermione look at him like that. And that only made him feel further apart from them and everyone else around him, as if he was the only inhabitant in a world of his own. So maybe it was lucky that Mrs. Weasley called them in for dinner just then, and the argument that Harry had already seen coming was at least postponed.

~s~

Harry had always liked staying at the Weasleys. They were a nice family, and the very opposite of everything Harry had known living at the Durselys. Mr. Weasley was friendly and relaxed, and Mrs Weasley fed him as if she thought he hadn't got any food for months, which would have been a bit of an exaggeration. But It felt good to be liked instead of being insulted, and of course he was finally with his friends again. That was what he had been looking forward to the most.

But he had not expected it to be like this.

It wasn't that they were fighting. It wasn't that they were not talking. But, unlike Hermione, Harry didn't want to resume the conversation of his first evening at the Burrow, and ignoring the issue seemed to keep building up a wall between him and his friends and, in extent, between him and everybody else.

Because while he didn't want to talk about his godfather and his supposed crimes, Sirius was the only thing on his mind, and so Harry had come to talk less and less. He would often sit there, pretending to listen to the conversation going on around him, while really he was far away, replaying another conversation and trying to think up a way how he would get another opportunity to visit his godfather. After all, Sirius would be waiting for him, wouldn't he? But how would he ever be able to sneak away from the Burrow? How could he arrange another visit right under the nose of Professor Dumbledore?

Harry had been sure that with ten other people around to do the talking, his silence would not be that apparent. But it seemed he had been mistaken. While, with Hermione's less than subtle attempts to bring the topic of Sirius back up, his own patience had been running short and shorter, it was finally Ron who lost it one evening when they were sitting outside in the back yard, enjoying a mild summer evening.

''Hermione, will you please drop it?'' he hissed, when Hermione had once more started to drop hints about Voldemort and the people who had followed him. ''He doesn't want to talk about Black, why can't you just quit it?''

It seemed that Ron had realized pretty quickly that his friend didn't want to discuss his godfather, and had accepted it. Ron seldom was bothered by what he considered not to be his business. Hermione on the other hand obviously felt like she had to keep trying, intending to make Harry see that Sirius was untrustworthy and only out to take whatever advantage he might get from getting close to him. And while Harry normally felt at least some sort of gratitude towards his friend for worrying about him, this time it only kept annoying him. Because what ever Hermione had to say, Harry really didn't want to hear it.

Right now Hermione had blushed a in a light shade of pink and glared at Ron, who looked at her unconcerned.

''Excuse me for worrying about me friend!'' she snapped. ''But I-''

''Well, don't! Okay?'' Harry had jumped up in agitation, and was now staring down at her, his hands balling into fists. ''There is nothing to worry about! I just talked to him! He told me about my parents. You know, the ones that got murdered when I was a little kid, the ones I can't even remember! What's so fucking wrong about that!''

Harry didn't wait for an answer, just turning around to stalk back towards the house, his mind a mess of furious thoughts and emotions.

~s~

Hermione had noticeably separated herself from Ron and Harry during the next days, staying more in the company of Ginny and Mrs Weasley. And if he had been honest with himself, Harry would have admitted that he felt a little guilty for being so harsh, and storming off like he had, when he knew Hermione had only wanted to help. But at this point, being honest with himself wasn't top of Harry's list of priorities and at least Hermione had stopped pestering him about Sirius.

And finally the day they had all been waiting for arrived. Although Harry had somehow been a lot more eager before his mind got occupied almost exclusively with another kind of excursion, that had proved to be, if less cheerful, then much more intriguing. Still, it was Quidditch, and Harry couldn't help but get sucked in by al the excitement. And after all, he thought, his Dad and Sirius probably would have loved to be part of such an event, seeing as they had both played and had been fans of the wizard sport, and somehow that made Harry feel closer to them.

They had made a very early start that morning, and travelled by the means of something called a Portkey, which was actually nothing but a bewitched piece of garbage. It transported them directly to a forest close to the pitch of the Quidditch World Cup, and Harry suddenly realized what a huge event the Quidditch World Cup was, with wizards from all over the world arriving in England to witness the final match between Ireland and Bulgaria. The area was already brimming with excited people, a fact that obviously had the Ministry in a glitch, trying to keep the whole thing hidden from the Muggles. All the more strange in Harry's opinion was that they were staying on a Muggle camp ground, and not only the Weasleys but what looked like thousands of wizards going crazy with anticipation while a few Ministry employees were trying to reign it all in.

The Weasleys had pretty much done a good job in disguising themselves as Muggles, but some of the wizards and witches obviously had less understanding on what would be considered appropriate in the English countryside. There was a man who had combined a kilt with a colourful South-American poncho, a witch in what looked like a lace-adorned nightgown and of course many people who simply wore wizard robes despite the occasion, although not everyone in as mind-blowing colours as the stocky man wrapped in black and yellow stripes who resembled very much an excited hornet.

To Harry's surprise that very same man joined them after they had pulled up their tent and were preparing dinner on an open fire. While the tent, which looked pretty much like any Muggle equivalent from the outside, turned out to be a three-bedroom flat with a working kitchen from the inside, Mr. Weasley had still insisted that they would make dinner Muggle-style, trying to set a good example which probably would go ignored.

So while he polished off his eggs and sausages, Harry curiously eyed the outlandish but cheerful looking man who was speaking rather amiably with Mr. Weasley.

He turned towards his left, to where Bill Weasley was sitting, but before he could ask who the strange man was, Mr. Weasley turned towards them with a broad smile.

''Everybody, this is Ludo Bagman, head of the Magical Games and Sports department. He was the one who organized our tickets.''

Harry blinked. This was a Ministry official? A high Ministry official?

''Why is he wearing auch clothes?'' Harry mumbled more to himself.

But Bill must have heard him and grinned at him before he whispered, ''He was playing as a Beater for Wimbourne Wasps before he joined the Ministry. Those must be his old Quidditch robes. A bit tight around the middle, aren't they?''

Harry couldn't help but grin back. Bill had turned out to be very different from what he had expected from a former Hogwarts Headboy. ''But shouldn't he try to be a little less conspicious?'' he asked in the same low voice.

But Bill just shrugged. ''Most people here should. But there aren't many occasions like these, where we have the opportunity to come together and celebrate. It's nothing a few well-placed memory-charms couldn't fix.''

Harry couldn't argue with that, not that he would have wanted to. He simply wanted to enjoy being part of it. This was what the wizard world was like. This was how it would have been for him, had his parents survived, or, maybe, even if he had come to live with his godfather. For a moment he was lost in a bitter-sweet fantasy of himself joining his dad and Sirius to come and see the World Cup. Staying with his own family instead of Ron's, meeting up with his friends just like they had met Seamus earlier that day. They might have made camp next to each other, sharing dinner and discussing the up-coming match. Suddenly, in his mind there were two black-haired men sitting among them, joking and laughing and relaxed. This was how it could have been. But of course it was nothing but a childish fantasy. Something he was far too old for by now. And there really was no reason for him to suddenly feel lonely in a group of people he truly liked, and who truly liked him. He should be grateful for having been invited. And still, here he sat, suddenly feeling a longing that seemed old and familiar and nevertheless unsettling, like he had only now really discovered its existence.

After introductions had been made, and the usual ogling of his forehead had been done with, Ludo Bagman joined the Weasleys for a cup of tea, and Harry turned away from the group a little to just sit and watch all those normal wizard families around them enjoying themselves. He was just curiously observing a little girl in the green colours of the Irish, riding what looked like a miniature broom which didn't rose far enough to keep the girl's toes from brushing the ground. Not looking where she was going, she nearly bumped into two Ministry officials that had apparated close to their camp just that moment. Harry grinned at the girl's mortified look and the annoyed flusters of the man and the woman, when out of nowhere a sharp pain suddenly pierced his skull.

With a yelp, Harry immediately clutched his forehead. The cry was certainly much softer than any other boy's would have been feeling such a pain, but Harry had never been a crier. Harry was used to pain, and this pain especially. He had felt it before. The lightning bolt scar on his forehead was a mark from the day Voldemort had killed his parents and had tried to do the same to Harry. But until today it had only ever been hurting when the dark wizard had been around some way or the other, and it was highly ridiculous to think that Voldemort, who had been reduced to nothing but a fleeing shadow as far as Harry knew, would join the ranks of Quidditch enthusiasts to watch the game. Wasn't it?

The pain was slowly ebbing away from him now, and he looked up bleary eyed just to be met with the concerned face of Ginny.

''Harry, you alright?''

''Yeah,'' Harry mumbled, rubbing his forehead, ''I'm fine. Just a little headache...''

''Okay...'' She frowned at him, but then shrugged. ''There's dessert. Pumpkin pie. You want some?''

''Sure.'' Harry tried to smile at her. ''Lead the way.''

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, and dragged him up, and together they went over to the fire, where the two Ministry officials had joined their group, although they looked far less cheerful.

''No, sorry, Arthur,'' the man with the thin moustache and the astonishingly crisp suit was just saying, ''But we really don't have the time to sit and dawdle.'' He turned towards Bagman. ''Bertha here has been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box.''

''Oh, is that what they are after? I had no idea. Well, Bertha can handle that, can't she?'' Bagman smiled winningly at the woman dressed in a plain black dress, that managed to look almost like a wizard robe but still be within the Muggle dressing code. '' Come on, Barty,'' he said, clapping the stern looking man on the shoulder. ''It's the World Cup, we ought to have some fun and enjoy ourselves.''

''Well, I'm afraid you have to enjoy yourself with the Bulgarian Minister,'' the man said with a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. ''He is insisting to speak to you personally.''

''Ah, I guess it can't be helped,'' Bagman sighed dramatically. ''Well, I see you all in the Top Box later. I will be commentating!'' He gave them another cheerful wave and the three of them disapparated with a soft pop.

When the sweetness of the pumpkin pie hit his taste buds and he looked in all the merry faces around him, the pain in Harry's forehead ebbed away, soon to be forgotten.

~s~

The match had been everything Harry had hoped for and much more than he would have expected. Curiously enough the outcome had been exactly what the twins had predicted, and the two of them were seemingly in even higher spirits than the supporters of the Irish team since they had placed all there savings for a bet with Mr. Bagman on Ireland winning but the Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, getting the Snitch. It had been an outside bet and there should be quite a bit cash waiting for them.

Harry too had been swept away by the whole amazing spectacle. There had been dancing Veelas and flying Leprechauns that looked like fireworks. And the game itself had been played with such an amazing skill, that Harry had been full of awe and longing to be able to do what these professional Quidditch players were doing, diving and turning with blurring speed. If nothing else, the excitement of the crowd, the cheers and the gasps had been intoxicating in their own right, and when it was all over Harry felt dazed, almost as if he was waking up from a dream, pleasantly tired but still brimming with a happy thrill, like he was riding on a wave of faint jauntiness, adrift and far away from all his troubles.

With all the spectators slowly bleeding out of the stadium, they descended down the stairs from the Top Box, while Leprechauns were still soaring over their heads, cackling and waving their bright lanterns, and the air of the mild summer night was full of laughter and singing and joyful jubilation.

No one wanted to go to bed right away and they ended up in front of their tents with a night cup of cocoa. Harry was watching the flames of the low burning fire, listening to Charlie and Mr Weasleys discussion and Ron and the twins recounting the most spectacular moves of the players, too tired to take part in the conversation and just content to not think about anything much for the moment. When they finally all changed into their pyjamas and Harry climbed into his bunk, he could still here the faint singing and laughter and the occasional bang from the other side of the campsite where most of the Irish had made camp and would probably celebrate their team's victory up till the next morning.

It all mixed up in Harry 's drifting mind when he thought of himself in the bright colours of the national team, diving like Krum had done today to the deafening cheers of the crowd, coming up with the Snitch and circling the stadium, his eyes finding his parents and Sirius in the stands, cheering and beaming at him with their eyes full of pride and love and...

''Get up! Ron, Harry, get up now! Come on, this is urgent!''

It was Mr. Weasley's voice that pulled him out of slumber, and from the anxious note Harry knew immediately that something was wrong. Dimly, he became aware of different noises. Instead of the laughter and the singing there were now screams and the sound of people running and stumbling.

Mr. Weasley urged them on and Harry could only grab his coat before they all got shooed outside. People were stumbling past, fleeing in the direction of the woods, away from something that was moving across the field, towards them. In the dim light of the few burning fires Harry could only make out what looked like a crowd of tightly packed people, moving slowly but with purpose. There were odd flashes of light and bangs, like spells being fired, and there was jeering and laughter that was nothing like the earlier innocent celebrations.

Harry made a step towards the ruckus, trying to see what the hell was happening there, when a thin, middle aged wizard grabbed him by the arm.

''Run!'' he yelled, wild frightened eyes boring into his, ''What are you waiting for?'' And then he added in a shuddering whisper, ''It's them!''

He let go of Harry and hastened further, and Harry stared after him shocked and confused. With his back turned on the scene now, he didn't see the witch that bummed into him next, painfully ramming her elbow in his side. Harry groaned. He should probably get out of the way.

''Come on Harry! We have to go!'' Hermione cried urgently, fear audible in her voice.

Harry turned towards his friends once more, coming face to face with the witch that had run into him, her nightgown fluttering around her, her hair in disarray.

''It's the Death Eaters!'' she muttered, eyes frantic. ''How could it be... it's the Death Eaters!'' she cried louder, seemingly not taking notice of Harry.

Death Eaters?

Harry whipped around, staring back at the commotion that came further and further into their direction. Tents got blown up, some of which were catching fire. So this were those ominous Death Eaters... What the hell were they anyway? The wizard equivalent of some biker gang? They definitely seemed to be troublemakers, and Harry briefly thought of Sirius and stories about a flying motorcycle. But if Sirius had been one of them, surely they couldn't be that bad? Maybe it was just like with werewolves and giants, hugely blown out of proportion, people adding gossip of a connection to Voldemort?

Harry was ripped out of his musing by Hermione, grabbing his arm and dragging him back where the others had gathered. Mr. Weasley looked very serious, and told them to go and hide in the forest, insisting they stay away until the Ministry had the situation handled. He looked at each of them sharply, as if to underline how serious he was, and then he, Bill, Charlie and Percy were running towards the source of the trouble, wands in their hands.

''Come on!'' Ron and Hermione started pushing Harry in the direction where the twins had already vanished with Ginny in tow, and they ran too, stumbling in the near darkness. Hermione pulled out her wand.

''Lumos!'' she whispered and Harry heard Ron mumble, ''Good idea.''

Harry too dug in the pocket of his jacket for his wand, Ron's already lighting up in the darkness. But his wasn't there. Frantically Harry searched for it in ever increasing panic, knowing it was futile. He had come to an halt, feeling a cold dread fill him like icy water.

''Harry what are you waiting for!'' Hermione called impatiently from further down the path.

''I- I lost my wand...'' Harry bit his lip, looking back towards the direction of their tent uncertainly. ''I must have lost it when that witch ran into me. You go ahead, I just run and fetch it, I'll be right behind you!''

Hermione looked torn, but Ron grabbed her by the wrist, jerking his head towards the forest, as if to tell Harry that they would meet up there. Harry nodded and turned back to the tent, hurrying towards it with his eyes on the ground for the unlikely possibility that his wand had just fallen out of his pocket on the few yards they had come so far.

But Harry didn't find his wand, neither on the path, nor where he had collided with the witch earlier. It was dark, apart from the light from occasional explosions and fires, the flickering spells of the group of wizards that had drawn awfully close now. And then, in a flash of green light Harry could suddenly see the center of the crowd. There were people in hooded cloaks, their faces hidden behind masks and their wands pointed upwards at something in the air. A shiver ran down his back, as acid bile accumulated in his stomach pressing up his throat. There were people in the air! High up above the crowd, two bigger and two smaller and Harry felt sick when he saw in another flash of light that it was the camp side manager and what was probably his wife and children, the smallest not older than four or five.

They were harassing Muggles. And suddenly the claim Hermione had made rang much louder in his mind. Voldemort's supporters. But surely not Sirius? Surely Sirius wouldn't do something like that? Not even when he had been a mischief-making, rule-breaking youth, coming from a family of dark wizards?

Harry shivered in the cold night air, and he suddenly felt awfully alone and exposed, and not at all certain that coming back had been a good idea. There were no more people around. The camp ground seemed almost deserted, apart from the group of strange wizards that was breaking up now, the formation falling apart into smaller groups, as fights broke out, probably with members of the Ministry, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie and Percy among them.

And then he heard a sound, like stumbling footsteps and whispered curses, coming closer. Ducking into the entrance of their tent, Harry saw the shadows of two people, bulky with their heavy, hooded cloaks.

''What the hell, Avery? Let's just forget it and get out of here! You want to be caught?''

''Just a moment. I'm sure I saw him in this direction. Maybe he is hiding in a tent somewhere... '' His head turned towards where Harry stood, hiding in the shadows of the tent, and for a split second he was sure that the wizard was looking directly at him. Whom were they looking for? They couldn't be looking for him, could they? Had he been seen?

''If you wanna look, make it quick!'' the other man urged, looking around nervously.

''Hmm... or I can just blow them all up, see if I can chase him out,'' the first one said with what Harry was certain was a side smile, even if he couldn't see it under the mask. He came nearer, and Harry drew back instinctively, stumbling over a cauldron with a dull sound.

''Well, well, seems someone's been hiding in there,'' the man drawled.

''Just blast the damn thing up for Salazar's sake! And hurry!'' the other groaned exasperatedly.

The only answer from his companion was a cruel laugh.

''Don't piss yourself,'' he said, and then he slowly raised his arm, wand in hand, eyes fixed on the door to their tent. Harry stood frozen in shock. He could only stare at the man, and at the arm holding the wand that would surely kill him. Now, any moment. Killed by a man who's face he had never seen. Who didn't care if he had the right person cornered or an innocent bystander. Who laughed about the idea.

And afterwards he stood there and laughed!

The sleeve of the wizards coat was falling back, exposing a tattoo, that Harry couldn't quite discern. Then Harry squeezed his eyes shut, dropping to the floor in a small ball, expecting the blast.

But it never came. There was a collective gasp of shock from the two men, a brief scuffle and then the faint popping sound indicating they had apparated away.

Shaking from the rush of adrenalin, it took Harry a few moments until he was able to compose himself and peak out the tent. The sky was glowing green, and when Harry stepped out, looking up for what ever might have caused it, he saw what looked like a huge green snake of light curling from the screaming mouth of a ghostly skull, a creepy light-show against the dull clouds.

TBC

At this point I would truly appreciate your thoughts and comments!

Please review! x Zaira