Saturday, October 31, 1991-Malfoy Manor

Narcissa swept through the corridor in the West Wing towards her son's bedroom. The torches on the walls flickered into life as she passed them, but she hardly needed the light. She could navigate these cold stone hallways with her eyes closed. The time to move was now. Lucius had been in an exceptionally good mood the past month, and refused to divulge any real plans to her. He had been in such a good mood, in fact, that she had glimpsed the man she had married, if only for one night. It was unusual for them to be intimate nowadays, but they had once had a passionate love life. In the aftermath, Lucius had turned to her and revealed that plans were being set in motion which would murder the Potter child, and elevate the Malfoy family to the highest ranks amongst the Death Eaters. His eyes glowed not with love, as they once had, but with the madness that serving the Dark Lord had put there over the years. He described how their son would one day take his rightful place at the feet of the Dark Lord, and Narcissa felt a white hot rage burn deep within her at the thought of her beautiful son serving such a vile creature. As she donned her dressing gown and left Lucius asleep in his chambers in the early dark hours of the morning, she felt a calm certainty descend upon her.

Everything had been ready for weeks. Narcissa had enough money on her own via the Black fortune, but she wanted Draco to have his rightful inheritance. She had easily convinced Lucius to allow Draco access to his own personal vault come his eleventh birthday. Traditionally, this would come about when the heir turned seventeen, but Lucius wanted Draco to have full access throughout his school years, to elevate him amongst his peers. So well had Narcissa and thus Draco played their parts over the years, he trusted no one as he trusted them. The main Malfoy vault containing ancient heirlooms, paintings, and other such items, unfortunately, would most likely be lost to them. Luckily Draco would receive his own Black inheritance as well one day, but Narcissa regretted the loss regardless. No object was worth her son's life, however.

The trunks were packed. She had prepared a place for them. The un-binding documents had been left on Lucius' desk, inside his study, spelled to reveal themselves once both of them had vanished from the Malfoy estate. He would, no doubt, be furious, but Narcissa had made damn sure there was no way for him to trace them. She worried a little about sending Draco to Hogwarts, with Lucius on the board of governors, but she had a plan for that as well. Everything had been taken care of and she had gone over the plans meticulously. There was nothing left to do but leave.

She slowed as she approached the intricately carved wooden door that represented her sons' quarters. Runes visible only to her eyes glowed briefly around the frame. She had placed those before her son was even born, when they were preparing the space as a nursery. The runes recognized her presence, and the door swung open soundlessly. Her son lay asleep in his much too large bed, deep green silk sheets and down blankets strewn in piles around him upon the dark mahogany frame. His blonde hair contrasted sharply against the sheets; his head lay directly on the mattress, despite the many pillows surrounding him. He had never liked using pillows, Narcissa reflected fondly to herself. His mouth was open in a quite undignified manner, which she was sure he would be horrified to know. Ornately carved dragons opened their jeweled eyes and blinked slowly at her entry, twining about the headboard. Wooden tongues flicked out, tasting the air for danger, before they curled their tails about themselves once more and shut their eyes.

She moved quietly toward the bed, stepping lightly across the stone floor. It was not cold, due to warming charms, and was softened to imitate the feel of a carpet without losing the visual appeal of stone flooring. Draco made no movement as she sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his head. He always was a sound sleeper.

"Draco," she murmured, lightly grasping his shoulder. He opened his grey eyes and blinked sleepily at her, confused.

"Mother?" he questioned, sitting himself up on his elbows and rubbing his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, my darling." Narcissa replied, not wanting to lie to her son. Draco was very sharp for his age and she knew he would grasp the situation instantly. "It is time to leave."

Draco drew in a sharp breath and sat up fully. She could almost see his mind processing her words and drawing the correct conclusions. "Where will we go?" He showed no resistance and clearly grasped that there was no time for questions, but she could see she would be in for an interrogation later.

"Not to worry dear, everything has been planned. This place is no longer safe for us. I hope to return to it one day, but for now, how would you like to visit your aunt?"

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Draco's eyes widened. He knew immediately she wasn't talking about his Aunt Bellatrix, and his other aunt was quite the unsolved mystery in his eyes-a forbidden subject in his house, for as long as he could remember. He asked no more questions, however, and followed her to the door. He trusted his mother above all others and she had never led him astray. He did not stop to gather any of his things; he knew his mother would have packed everything he needed, and there was nothing of value to him in his room. It was filled only with expensive, tasteful decorations, and replaceable toys. He took his mother's hand, and with her other hand she held up a small object.

"When you are ready, touch this. It will take us to my sister."

Draco did not recognize the object in his mother's hand, but his magic instinctually identified it as a Black artifact. It was a small, round obsidian ball, laced with veins of gold. He placed a trembling finger on it and looked up trustingly into his mother's face. "I'm ready, Mother." She smiled down at him and closed her eyes. He followed suit and a gently wind caressed his face. When he opened his eyes again, he stood in what appeared to be the foyer of a house. It was nothing like his own house. Plans decorated shelves all around him, and a chandelier hanging above them bathed the room in warm light. He saw no candles and correctly assumed it was powered by what the Muggles called "electricity". He had never seen it in person, but remembered it vaguely from a lesson taught by a tutor whom his father had long since fired. A comfortable rug lay beneath their feet, dyed an attractive deep red. The only thing magical in this room that he could see was an owl perch in the recessed windowsill, with a handsome barn owl on it. He eyed the visitors with one eye open, then turned his head dismissively.

He was distracted by the appearance of a woman who approached them hesitantly from the entrance into the rest of the house. She took several steps forward, her hands clenched at her sides. At first appearance she was strikingly similar to Bellatrix, and he flinched, clutching at his mother's hand. As she entered the light, he relaxed. She did resemble his other aunt, but her hair was a light chestnut brown instead of dark, and her eyes were wide and kind. And Aunt Bellatrix had never looked at his mother like this, with a strange mixture of hope and fear.

"Cissy?" she whispered.

Draco's mother stood with her head high, but he could feel the tension in her head. She released his hand to step forward towards the woman.

"Andromeda." She moved forward with her arms held in front of her at the same time as the other woman, who was apparently Draco's mystery aunt. They clasped each other's hands and each kissed the other on the cheek. They stared at each other for a moment, gripping each other tightly, before Andromeda peered around her sister to look at Draco.

"And my nephew?" She phrased it like a question, but it was clear she wasn't expecting an answer. Draco remembered his manners and stretched a hand out. His aunt, bemused, took it.

"Nice to meet you, aunt."

Sunday, October 31, 1982-Unknown location

Nothing could have prepared Severus for the feeling of his Dark Mark burning again, a year after the Dark Lord's supposed defeat. He, of course, had seen for himself that there was no body at the scene, and knew that Voldemort had somehow survived. He had gone immediately to Dumbledore and told him everything. Dumbledore had agreed; the Dark Lord would return—but they had never expected it to be this soon. As the burn grew ever stronger on his arm, panic had momentarily consumed him. He had shoved his feelings down with sheer will and Apparated to the location, intent on killing, or at least capturing, the Dark Lord.

What he found when he arrived was not what he expected. Lucius stood at the man's right-hand side, Bellatrix Lestrange on his left. And Peter Pettigrew kneeled at the Dark Lord's feet, wrists bound behind him, sobbing hysterically. His blond hair had mostly fallen out, and the remaining wisps were plastered to his pointy face with sweat. He trembled and Severus' refined sense of smell could detect urine and feces on the man.

"Severus, please," Lucius implored him, hands lifted in supplication. "Hear us out before you do anything rash."

As Severus gazed upon the wraithlike features which in no way resembled the man Tom Riddle had once been, he changed his plan. He bowed and lowered his head in deference. The…thing…spoke to him, in a hissing, sibilant voice. Only with a great effort did he control the violent shiver that threatened to rip through him at the sound.

"Severus. My once loyal servant. Have you returned, only to kill me?" Lord Voldemort questioned from his throne-like chair.

Severus thought for only a moment before replying. It could not hurt to find out what was going on, and once he had it figured out, he could always revert to his original plan. "No, My Lord."

"Come now, my old friend. There is no need to lie. We are all aware that you were...attached to the Mudblood."

Severus again controlled his reaction with an iron will. He had not heard that word in a long time. He could have gone longer without hearing it, but alas.

"I...was, My Lord," he allowed a slight tremble to enter his voice. Voldemort would expect anger and sadness. "I thought…that she would be safe."

The terrifying features on the creature's face attempted to contort themselves into a pitying expression. "Ah, my friend. I did try. I am sorry to have caused you pain. That is why I have brought you a gift." He threw out a clawed hand in a sweeping gesture towards Pettigrew, still on the floor. Severus was puzzled.

"A gift, My Lord?"

"Yes," Voldemort shook his head in a show of regret. "My intention was never to slay your Mudblood friend. I only wished to get to the child. The prophecy needed to be stopped at all costs, but I had plans which involved much less bloodshed. However, Peter had an unfortunate role in the demise of the Potter family. He told me that fateful night, that the Potters had made him their Secret Keeper. He told me their location and stated the Potters were asleep in their beds. I meant only to quietly sneak in and…take care…of the child. But Peter lied. The Potters were ready for me when I arrived. I had no choice, Severus, you must understand. But I have brought you their betrayer, in the hopes that you will one day forgive me for my sins against you."

Severus glanced down at the pitiful man, who was now looking frantically back at him, eyes wide. His mouth moved, but no sound came out now. At the realization he had been Silenced, the little rat began to drag himself across the floor towards Severus to claw at his robes. Severus kicked at him, disgusted, and he fell back. So, this pathetic excuse for a man was the reason why Lily's location had been known to the Dark Lord. He had, along with everyone else, been under the assumption that it was Sirius Black for the past year. Black was in Azkaban now, serving his lifelong sentence for his crimes. Severus had always regretted that he had been in no state of mind at the time to exact any type of revenge on Black. And here…here was an opportunity to get immediate revenge, and to convince the Dark Lord that he had never strayed from his service. If he killed Pettigrew, not only would that ease the burden on his mind, but it would also allow him to stay close to Voldemort and learn his plans.

He never hesitated. His wand was out within seconds, and with a flash of green light Pettigrew lay unmoving on the ground. Bellatrix pouted at the lost opportunity for some fun, but Voldemort only chuckled dryly.

"You never were one to beat around the bush, Severus. Does this mean that you are still with us, my friend?" He asked hopefully. Severus knew this was a turning point. He could still say no, and leave the room alive. This would be his only chance to leave the service of the Dark Lord. No other had been given this chance. But the temptation to wreak havoc from within Voldemort's forces was too great, and he was certain to have greater opportunity to destroy the man than he would if he were in hiding. It appeared that Voldemort was willing to use Pettigrew as a scapegoat in order to keep a valuable follower. He would be a fool not to take advantage.

"Always," he responded.

Monday, November 1, 1982-Ministry of Magic

Gasps and shrieks rose above the roar of the crowd as Millicent Bagnold attempted to push her way through the throng of people. People jostled her until they realized who she was at which point they began jostling the people next to them even harder in an attempt to make way for her.

"Minister!" Gasped a red-faced Auror as she finally made her way to the line of Aurors holding the crowd back. "Thank Merlin you're here. We are about to have a riot on our hands."

Normally Millicent would have been tempted to call this a dramatic statement, but upon seeing what awaited her in the Atrium, she winced. Peter Pettigrew, who should have been dead a year ago, was displayed for all to see, hovering twenty feet in the air with burning words etched next to him.

Traitor.

"Oh, shit," she muttered under her breath.

Tuesday, November 2, 1982

Sirius Black lay in his Animagus form, shivering on the floor of his cell in Azkaban. He had no clue how many days had passed since his best friend was murdered. He knew he was lucky—most of the other prisoners didn't have another form to retreat to, and he knew it was the only reason he was still sane. He huffed in amusement at himself—well, at least partially sane. It was his fault for losing his mind so completely when he learned that the Potters had been killed, but he had wanted to kill Peter. He should have tried to defend himself, but his guilt appeared clear to all those who were there. He knew he would die here. The Dementors were relentless guardians, and he would receive no visitors due to the magnitude of his betrayal. Meager portions of food appeared daily in his cell and there was no news from the outside world.

Hence why he was so startled at the sound of footsteps that he almost didn't have time to change back into his human form. Several sets of footsteps were headed quickly his way, and he blinked, trying to adjust to the change in his vision from dog to human, and the shifting gloom of his cell. He shrank back from the bars when a brightly lit wand was thrust between them, pain blooming between his eyes at the sudden light.

"Sirius Black?" a female voice inquired softly, as the wand dimmed enough for Sirius to open his eyes again. He saw Madam Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Albus Dumbledore, and two nondescript Aurors he didn't recognize. He assumed they were rookies, although, he could have been in here for years as far as he knew.

"What-" Sirius cleared his throat, which hadn't been used for speech since he had entered Azkaban. "What is the Head of the DMLE and Albus Dumbledore doing visiting a criminal like myself?" He managed to rasp out.

"Sirius," Dumbledore spoke gently. "We have come to set you free."

Later in the day, Sirius reflected that his reaction was not unsurprising, given the situation. He had blankly stared at the group for a moment before laughing uproariously. He had been convinced he had finally gone round the bend, and was hallucinating. It took some time (and no few amount of potions) before he was calm enough to remove him from his cell and speak to Dumbledore and Madam Bones coherently. He was taken to St. Mungo's, where nursing staff fussed over him a great deal, bringing him more potions, broth, and casting diagnostic charms over him. Meanwhile, Dumbledore explained to him how Peter Pettigrew had been found at the Ministry, branded a traitor. He was being removed from Azkaban to await the trial he had never had. Madam Bones advised him that he would be dosed with Veritaserum, so as to leave no stone unturned. They could not afford another mishap like last time, she told him. The media was in a frenzy, she said, due to the public way Pettigrew had been displayed. People were sending death threats to the Wizengamot, and clamoring for Sirius' release. But, she told him, things had to be done the right way this time. Eventually she left and stationed an Auror outside of his room. He had been placed in a private room due to his status as a criminal, but as he currently had no wand and had never been convicted, the guard was more for his safety than it was to keep him prisoner. Once she left, Dumbledore cast privacy spells around them.

"There's more, Sirius," he said gravely. "I feel you deserve to know the truth. I know who killed Pettigrew."

Sirius' eyes brightened. He was bone tired, and feeling quite sloshy from all of the potions they had poured down him. He was in a state of shock and knew he needed to rest, but surely nothing could be more important than this.

"It was Severus."

Sirius recoiled. "Snape?" he snarled darkly. Dumbledore held up his hands.

"Please listen, Sirius. I know it is a tale that is hard to believe. Severus turned against the Dark Lord that night. He came to me and told me everything. He said he had heard half of the prophecy and told Voldemort of it, and that the ideals he was fighting for had changed. He swore an Unbreakable Vow that night, swearing to assist me and to help protect Harry."

"Harry!" Sirius interrupted desperately. They had pushed off his attempts so far to find out what had happened to his godson, and he was more than a little frustrated. He felt his eyes burn and impatiently shook his head to ward off the tears.

Dumbledore laid a hand on his arm. "Please, Sirius. Let me finish. I know it is hard." Sirius laid his head back against the bed, lips pressed tightly together in displeasure. "One year from that night, just a couple of days ago, he was Summoned to the Dark Lord's side." And Dumbledore continued explaining that Snape, of all people, had agreed to spy on Voldemort, and had killed Pettigrew and displayed him in order to set Sirius free. It was, as Dumbledore had said, hard to believe at first. After he finally left Sirius in peace, his head was left spinning. He gratefully downed the Dreamless Sleep the pretty healers had thoughtfully left him, and enjoyed his first good night's sleep in over a year.

The trial went as expected. After Sirius' testimony with the Veritaserum, and since nearly all members of the Wizengamot had seen the gruesome way Pettigrew had been displayed, not one of them dared to vote guilty. Sirius was free and his wand returned to him by the afternoon. At Dumbledore's direction, he Flooed directly to Hogwarts, to avoid the media, and because that was where he would be staying until he could get the Black properties cleaned up. Privately he wasn't so sure he wanted to live in any of the Black properties since they didn't exactly hold good memories for him, but his priority right now was getting healthy again, and finding out what in the bloody hell Dumbledore had done with his godson.

Speaking of whom, Dumbledore had promised a full explanation, and they were currently headed to the Headmaster's office.

Once they arrived Dumbledore gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Please sit, Sirius." A pot of tea and two cups appeared with a wave of his wand and Sirius happily summoned his cup to him. Using his magic again filled his body with warmth, from head to toe. He could feel it thrumming in his veins once again. The old man settled into his chair with a sigh and leaned forward, steepling his long fingers on the desk in front of him. "I must ask something of you. I cannot tell you anything until you have sworn an oath on your magic."

Sirius breathed deeply through the rage filling him. The healers had warned him that for several weeks he may feel the aftereffects of prolonged exposure to Dementors, thankfully lessened thanks to his Animagus talent, but he would be prone to outbursts of extreme emotion for a while. He was on a strict potions regimen and was to see a Mind Healer weekly. That didn't mean it wasn't a struggle.

"Dumbledore, he is my godson. You have continually refused me any information on him. I am his legal guardian, and I want to know where the bloody hell he is! You can't keep me from him! He has been orphaned and I have been wrongfully imprisoned for a year. No one deserves more than I, to be reunited with my dead best friend's son!" He attempted to keep his voice level, but he couldn't help raising it a bit.

"I realize that Sirius. Things are at stake here that you don't know about. It is life or death. I must have the oath."

"What is it." He said through gritted teeth.

"You must promise on your magic that you will not attempt to remove Harry from his current location, nor reveal his location to any of those whom you trust."

Sirius felt his stomach drop and the blood rush to his head. But no matter how he threatened, guilt-tripped, swore, and stormed about the room, Dumbledore refused to budge. He would not share any information until he swore the oath. Grudgingly, he did so, and immediately regretted it.

When Dumbledore's office lay in ruins around them, while the man himself simply sat behind his desk, looking disappointed, Sirius threw himself into a chair and covered his face with both hands in defeat.

"It must be this way, Sirius. Blood wards are the only thing that can keep Harry safe, and it is more important than ever now that Voldemort has returned. Lily's love created protection for Harry that will not help him unless he lives with a blood relative!"

"What a crock of shit," Sirius responded. His face felt hot and he knew he looked insane, but it didn't matter. "I grew up with blood wards, in case you've forgotten who my family was! I have never heard of wards that acted in such a manner."

"Nevertheless, there is no other way," was the calm response.

And round and round the conversation went, until Sirius left the room shaking in anger over Dumbledore's excuses. He could not bear to stay a night in the castle with that old manipulative bastard, who had ignored James and Lily's wishes and was now keeping him from his godson. Who knows what poor Harry was going to have to put up with at Petunia's house over the next ten years? He would stay at the Leaky Cauldron until he could purchase a flat. His magic sparked in agitation as he strode toward the Apparition point, and he made no attempt to calm it.