Harry laid in his bed at Grimmauld Place, staring at the wall. Everyone else had long since gone to bed. Despite everything that had happened recently, or perhaps because of it, he wasn't sure, Harry found himself unable to sleep. He kept reminding himself that Mr. Weasley was all right. Alive. Healing. Christmas would be over in– Harry checked the clock on the wall that was faintly lit by rays of the moon peeking through the window– roughly five minutes.

Harry couldn't sleep. After everything, he was exhausted, and he couldn't sleep.

Ron obviously had no problem with it, if those thunderous snores were anything to go by, but that was all well and good. Ron hadn't been sleeping well ever since the attack on Mr. Weasley. Maybe even before that. Harry was sure that his nightmares had kept Ron up on more than one occasion. He wondered how many restless nights he'd been the cause of for his friends.

Harry glanced at the clock again. Two minutes left of Christmas.

Harry thought then of Sirius, and wondered if the man ever got any sleep at all. Harry could never sleep after he came into contact with dementors. He would feel the lingering effects for days. Lingering dark thoughts. Nightmares. A weariness that was rooted in his bones. He could only imagine the effects after twelve years of constant exposure. Harry wondered if Sirius ever had dreams at all, anymore.

Harry shifted and the bed creaked. He stilled instantly, dreading depriving Ron of his well deserved rest more than was probably rational, as Ron could be likened to a dead horse when asleep, but his best friend slept on.

Harry relaxed and continued his examination of the wall. He glanced at the clock. Christmas was over. He closed his eyes wearily–

There were a series of pops from outside– the unmistakable sound of people apparating– and Harry was on his feet with his wand in his hand before it had even registered. The first thought that popped into his head was that no one could know Grimmauld Place was even there unless told by the secret keeper himself, so whoever was apparating onto this muggle street was more than likely trusted by Dumbledore.

But this feeling– this instinct of danger rising inside of him that had him tightening his grip on his wand and unceremoniously shoving Ron awake before hurrying to the window– had kept him alive for over four years.

"Blimey," cried Ron, snorting awaking. Sensing his urgency, Ron was by his side in seconds, peering cautiously out the window into the darkness that the moon's gaze no longer penetrated. And Harry knew suddenly that his instinct had been right, because a heavy chill that could only be instilled by one creature infiltrated his bones.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, and Harry knew that Ron felt it too, and recognized the implications.

There were thunderous footsteps on the stairs outside their room, and Harry would bet his Firebolt that the only other being in the house that would so quickly react to the cruel sensation of dementors was one who was still haunted by them in the dark recesses of their mind.

Harry gazed into the dark frantically because there were only two reasons that dementors would be there. Either for himself, sent by whoever sent them to Little Whinging that summer, or they were there for Sirius.

"Harry!" cried Ron when Harry was no longer at his side. Harry snatched his invisibility cloak with urgent hands and vaulted out the door.

Sirius nearly knocked the both of them down the stairs as they collided. "Harry, what?" Sirius was pale. Paler than Harry had ever seen him.

Harry held out his cloak. "Put this on."

Sirius stared, the shadows on his face pronounced his still gaunt features, even after over two years. "I– Cloaks won't stop dementors, Harry."

Harry could hear more footsteps– and there were Fred and George. Harry could hear the rest of the Weasleys on their way.

"No, no you can't be seen," argued Harry, still holding the cloak out in front of him, a slight panic at the thought of Sirius being taken filling him.

"Harry," said Sirius, "If anyone should be under this, it should be you–"

Harry thought of Ron and Hermione, and how they still hadn't quite gotten the hang of casting a patronus, even without the presence of dementors, and felt his sense of urgency rise.

"No, Sirius," he said, "It's not– It's not Voldemort, I'd be able to feel it, so the next logical conclusion would be–"

"The Ministry."

Harry jumped and spun around to see Remus Lupin, who seemed to have materialized from nowhere. He had forgotten Remus' room was downstairs.

"Harry's right," added Lupin.

"Remus," said Sirius, clearly intending to make him see reason where Harry could not.

"If that's Fudge," said Lupin slowly, "You can't be seen."

"And if it's not?" spat Sirius. "What if it's the same people who attacked Harry over the summer?"

The two stared at each other for a second, sparks flaring in Sirius' eyes and cold resolve in Lupin's. Harry looked up the stairs to see Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley making their way downstairs, wands out–

When there was a knock at the door.

"Well, that settles it, then," said Harry, "They're not Death Eaters."

Sirius sent him a look, and Harry wondered what he'd said wrong.

"Put on the cloak, Sirius," hissed Lupin, and Sirius finally acquiesced.

Lupin had begun making his way downstairs, when there was an angry voice that Harry recognized from outside.

"Open up, by order of the Ministry. If you do not comply, we will use force. You can no longer apparate from this location. Your floo network has been shut down. You have ten seconds."

"It's Fudge," whispered Harry looking to where he had last seen Sirius. "He can't know you're here, so be quiet and stay under the cloak."

Harry and Ron made their way down the rest of the stairs, and Hermione was quickly at their side.

Lupin approached the door cautiously. "How can I be sure you are who you say you are?"

Fudge spluttered through the door, "Who else would we be, you deluded man? And I won't hear any of this nonsense about You-Know-Who!"

Harry raised his brow. "Well, that's definitely him."

Ron elbowed him and sent him a look. Harry wondered why people kept looking at him like that.

Lupin was not satisfied. "I'm afraid I cannot grant you entrance unless you–"

"Time's up."

The door exploded backward, narrowly missing Lupin and crashing to the floor across the room. In poured men and women in the robes of Aurors, and Harry took a step back. He could still feel the dementors outside. The Ministry was there for a reason, and a big one at that. All Harry could think of was of Sirius– If they knew Sirius was there–

Then the Aurors were upon him, and Ron and Hermione gone.

"Harry Potter, you are under arrest."

–What?

"You are to be detained while awaiting trial, which, due to the high profile of the case, will be held later this evening."

"This is absurd!" Mr. Weasley was angrily protesting.

"What in Merlin's name could you possibly be arresting him for?" demanded Lupin.

"Treason."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione cried desperately.

Harry felt numb.

"You are all called as witnesses for today's trial. Here are the details. Good day."

The Aurors took his wand. There was nothing he could do– he couldn't very well attack them, could he? They grabbed him roughly by the arms, and Harry became momentarily embarrassed that he was still in his pajamas.

How had they managed to get through the Fidelious Charm? Where did Fudge get off, accusing him of treason?

Harry heard Mr. Weasley's voice over the din, "–have to get Dumbledore."

Fudge barked out a laugh. "Yes, please do. I'd like to see how the old man tries to worm his favorite student out of this one. By all means, fetch him at once."

Harry tried to look over his shoulder behind him as he was manhandled out the door, but he was distracted by Fudge's next words.

"You will await your trial in a secure area of the Ministry, Potter. The dementors will guard you until that time."

Harry's blood ran cold.

As the door shut behind them, Harry could have sworn that he saw the livid, terrified face of Sirius appearing from nowhere, but he sincerely hoped that he was imagining things, because that would have been stupid, and reckless, and just the type of thing that Sirius would do.

As Harry was enveloped by the sensation of being squeezed through a very small tube, he wondered if his next home would be Azkaban.

A/N: Here's a new one for you! I think I'm going to take The Life of Harry Potter Open for Everyone down, because I just can't make myself satisfied with it. This isn't a replacement, but many of the things that were going to be addressed in that story will be in this one instead. Please review, and let me know what you think of this new idea.