Fifteen Minutes

Chapter One

7 years later...

July 16, 1988

Ministry of Magic, London, England

1:45 PM

Though it was hard to believe, Frank Longbottom had once had a life. He had a beautiful wife, Alice, and a wonderful son, Neville. Now, Frank was a mad workaholic. He worked weekends, pulled late nights, and took his work home with him. He rarely ever saw his son.

But there are reasons for everything, and Frank had his. He had arrived home fifteen minutes late one day and it had forever changed his life. That was when he had become obsessed with catching the maniac that had run off seven years earlier.

His hands began to shake and he willed himself not to think about it. Instead, he delved deeper into working on his maps. The maps were everywhere, some scattered on his desk, others on the wall next to his desk, covering the bland gray walls. On them were points with dates were scattered about it places where their quarry had last been seen. Lines connected the points together creating paths that he might have taken. But something was amiss, there was no line from the dot that said Toronto. Instead there was just a date, 23-12-87, a year and half since the last sighting.

He slammed his hand on his desk and heard a surprised gasp from his partner, Amelia Bones. She sat at the desk across from him and had her own reasons for wanting the subject of their search caught.

"Don't worry, he'll make a mistake eventually Frank," Amelia said. Frank looked up at her. Her grey eyes were shining with the fierce determination they always did whenever Black was mentioned. "He always does."

"I'm not worried," Frank replied, turning his attention back to his map. "I'm just anxious to see this bastard rot in Azkaban. If anybody deserves to, it's him."

"We all are. The agents in the Americas are sending me a full report tomorrow. They claim that there has been a sighting of him in California."

"Bollocks," Frank replied, looking closer at the map. "He's already been to bloody California. Why would he go back? That's not the way he operates."

"We have no other leads to go on right now, and besides, I have to read and file the report anyway. Work shortage remember? No more secretaries for us."

"Bloody tedious work, glad it got shoved on you."

"Only because Avery's an arrogant arse and thinks it's a woman's job to be a bloody secretary. At least Crouch was bright enough to realize that just because I'm a woman doesn't mean that I should be stuck with these duties."

"Well Crouch is dead," Frank said, his speech suddenly clipped and angry. Crouch had died the same week as his wife, two weeks after the end of the war and if it hadn't been for Avery, Amelia would have had Crouch's job. Amelia was brilliant, he couldn't have been luckier to have another partner. "You get the paperwork, I get the long hours. Best to not argue about it, there's no use. It never helps."

Amelia just sighed.

July 17, 1988

Lupin Residence, Carlisle, England

2:15 AM

Remus Lupin was well aware that he did not have anyone, and had not for the longest time. The lone wolf, he thought with a touch of irony. He had been betrayed and his only friends were either liars or dead. Which explained why he was up at quarter past two, smoking and feeling sorry for himself.

Everyone he cared about the in world was gone. His mum had died when he was twenty-two and his father had passed away just last year. James, Lily, Harry, and Peter had all died when he was twenty-five, and Sirius, well, he didn't like to think about Sirius.

Every month he had a sole visitor in the form of, Severus Snape, who came the week before the full moon. They'd told him he was an experiment for yet another new potion. In theory it was supposed to help werewolves stay sane during their transformations. He hadn't found it to work any better than the others before. He was just an experiment to the Ministry but he was happy that he was something to somebody.

That night had unhinged him, and shortly after, he had been checked in St. Mungo's for trying to off himself, luckily his father had come in time to stop him. There were days though, days where he wished that he had succeeded. Days that went by like years, seconds that passed like hours...those were the days that killed him. He did not want to get out of bed, preferring to just lay there forever and wish that death, or time, would take him. Anything to end his endless of life of being alone.

He had always figured that he would spend his life alone. Werewolves were not exactly the most popular of people, in fact he was lucky that Snape even stopped in. After the bite, his parents had explained that people would not want contact with him. They had told him that people would fear him and that they would be cruel, and they were mostly right.

However, when he was twelve, an extraordinary thing happened, he realized that there were people who would actually like him for who he was, despite the fact that he was a monster. They wanted to be around him, and they wanted to help him. But then, thirteen years later, it all fell spectacularly to pieces.

Most days he was all right, he sat in his dark room, alone, reading. He read thick Muggle classics, with dusty smelling pages, books that would make most people yawn and ask for something better.

Tonight though, was just one of those nights. Those nights were he just wished that someone would take him. Take him from this place. He could be with James and Peter then, he wouldn't be alone anymore.

"But you'll carry on like you always do, won't you mate?" Lupin asked himself out loud taking another drag on his cigarette. "You're a good boy, always making Mummy and Daddy proud."

He laughed as he said that. It was the same thing Snape had said that to James during their fifth year, following the Whomping Willow incident. He rose, he wanted more vodka. Stumbling to the kitchen, he opened the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out the clear bottle. He took a swig, not noticing the burning sensation in his throat.

"Fucking James had to trust everyone, didn't he?" Lupin said out loud, drunkenly. "Especially Sirius. 'Oh, Remus, you're being paranoid, Sirius is our mate! He wouldn't do that! Quit listening to those damn rumours, they'll make you crazy they will.'" No, Remus thought. The liquer and smoking will make you mad.

He closed his eyes as the vodka started to produce the desired effect. It would make him tired, then he might sleep. If not, at least he would be too pissed to care.

"But James, you were wrong, we shouldn't have trusted Sirius." He opened and closed his eyes, suddenly falling and smacking the back of his head on the counter as he dropped to the cold, tiled floor.

Roanoke, Virginia, United States

9:15 AM

"Who the fuck told the Brits that Black was in California?" Ashley Stanish jumped from her black desk chair at the sound of that voice. She spun around to face the rest of the cubicles in the large, grey office. Her boss, Jonathan Webfelt, the Director of the Bureau of Transcontinental Affairs, was waving a piece of parchment madly, his normally pale complexion was bright red. "There is a huge difference between Ohio and fucking California!"

Amber Randall, a petite blonde who was acting as Webfelt's secretary, stood up, looking, slightly embarrassed, "Sir the file said-"

"I don't give a fuck what the file said!" Webfelt yelled, cutting her off and making everyone jump again. "Do you not have any brains? He's been in California! I want to see that file now!"

Ashley watched as various people in the office scrambled to find the file. She closed her eyes, remembering that he had not always been like this. In fact, once upon a time, Jonathan Webfelt had been a nice, normal, and even cordial boss. But, that was before he found his wife in the arms of the milkman next door.

He, of course, blamed the ever-illusive Sirius Black, because Black had made his life miserable. Before he'd been spotted in the States, Webfelt had been able to spend large amounts of time with his young wife and their twin daughters. They had been a happy family. Then, in '82, when Black was spotted, Webfelt had to spend all his time at the office. He started missing Quadpot games and school functions, weekend shopping trips with his wife, and vacations abroad.

Then, one night, he had gone home early, to surprise his wife. With red roses in his arms and new, nicely wrapped, broomsticks for the girls, he entered the house to find his wife and the Muggle milkman in a very compromising position.

His wife had then taken the twin girls and run off with the milkman to some podunk town in Indiana. He hadn't heard a word since.

Ever since, he had made everyone in the office completely miserable, Ashley included. He over-worked them, screamed obscenities, and threw things. Ashley hadn't originally known all this of course, until the Manager for Muggle and Wizarding Affairs had told her at one of the Manager's meetings.

"Stanish!" Webfelt screamed, breaking her from her thoughts. "What the fuck is taking Randall so long?"

"I'm not sure, sir," she replied, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. Daisy, in the next cubicle, clucked her tongue and gave her a sympathetic look.

"Well, as soon as she comes back, or rather if she comes back, I want you in my office right away. I need someone to help me figure out what completely incompetent peon wrote that letter," Webfelt left, slamming the door behind him. As the chatter of the office began once again, Ashley closed her eyes and sighed.

"Don't worry, dearie," Daisy said, poking her over-large nose out from behind her stack of files. "I'm sure that it won't be too awful, at least he respects you." As much as she couldn't stand the woman, she had to admit that Daisy was right. It was Webfelt who wanted her as Manager, before Alex Smelt. As big of an ass as he could be, Webfelt recognized her good work.

"Stephens, go find that fucking lunatic Randall!" Webfelt screamed from his office. She sighed and Daisy began chatting with Michael next to her. From behind, she could almost see the young aide rolling his eyes.

Shortly thereafter, Stephens entered the room followed by Randall, who looked annoyed. Preparing herself for one-on-one with the devil himself, Ashley headed across the office.

"Did you get the file?" she asked. Randall passed her the file, and she cautiously stepped into the private office. "Randall brought back the file, haven't leafed through it yet," she started.

"About fucking time," Webfelt replied bitterly. "Just because she gets paid by the hour doesn't mean she can take her sweet ass time getting things." Ashley opened the file, leafing through the assorted pieces of parchment.

"Iowa, Toronto...where the hell is the California sheet?" she thought to herself. She knew it had to be in there. Finally, she found it, right after the Ohio spotting. "Someone put it in front the Ohio sheet. Obviously, whoever sent the news to the Brits didn't check the dates. Sir, I have no idea why someone would inform the Brits that Black was in California."

"Whose initials are on the file?" Webfelt asked, leaning across his desk.

Her eyes glanced to the bottom:

12-1-1984 JW

25-1-1984 JW

24-2-1984 PM- British MoM

"The last person to go over the California sighting was the Brit, Midgeon." Ashley shrugged.

Webfelt's head was in his hands, "Is it too much to ask for competent help? I'm surprised Randall can get dressed in the morning. Owl the Brits, send them the new report. We're going to get Black this time, I'm tired of chasing him and dealing with the damn Brits."

"Yes sir," she replied. "I'll send the newest bit to them straight away." She was about to close the door, when Webfelt added something else.

"Send Randall in. Oh, and I'll need a new secretary."

July 18^th, 1997

Ministry of Magic, London, England

8:45 AM

"The Americans were kind enough to owl us back straight away," Penny said, and Frank looked up as she entered the office. "This is what they have to say:"

We are very sorry for the confusion. It seems that there was a misunderstanding in the office. Black has been spotted in Eastern Ohio. We have warned the authorities and we will get him this time. It has been arranged for Mr. Frank Longbottom and Ms. Amelia Bones to arrive at approximately 1500 hours EST in Roanoke, Virginia on July 24^th. Their contact upon arrival is Ms. Ashley Stanish.

J. Webfelt,

Director for the Bureau of Transcontinental Affairs

"Sounds familiar doesn't it?" Frank asked.

"Just like every other letter Webfelt's sent," Amelia replied, sliding into her desk. "They're paying for us to go though. Besides, we'll get to watch the Americans completely mess it up again. That's always good for the entertainment factor alone."

"Very true..." Frank said slowly. "Especially when Webfelt looks as if he's about to burst the veins in his head." He smiled to himself, he would much rather work under David Avery than Jonathan Webfelt any day of the year. Speaking of Avery, Frank mused. "When does our esteemed Head of Department come in for his review? He could hear the pages of Amelia's Puppy calendar flip, then an audible sigh.

"Tomorrow afternoon, no doubt he'll want to know about the latest development. At which point he'll probably pretend to not let us go, saying we're just going on a wild goose chase. This will be followed by three day of panic and an hour before we're supposed to leave, he'll okay the trip." She ended with a smile and looked at Frank.

"Exactly," Frank replied, with a small smile of his own. "He's getting to be rather predictable in his old age." Though predictable was the last thing he would call David Avery under any other circumstances, he thought.

David had been two years behind him at Hogwarts, and though Frank had been in Gryffindor, he knew of the younger man's reputation. He loudly resented all those which he called 'lesser blood,' Muggle-borns and those who were half and half. Frank also knew that the other man had always been immersed deeply in the Dark Arts. Everyone had suspected him of being a Death Eater, a murderer, a fanatic. He after all, had been friends with Rosier, Wilkes, Rookwood, and several others.

After the downfall of You-Know-Who, Avery had come out fresh as a daisy. He had claimed that he had been bewitched, by the Imperius Curse, which Frank had become very familiar with during his days in the field. Avery's claim was that he had been merely a pawn; he had been trapped, and then cursed. The murders he was responsible for had not been ones he had been willing to commit.

He was reinstated at the Ministry and, to Frank's surprise, not put under surveillance. Instead, David had been put in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after Crouch's death. Frank had suspected a bribe, the Avery's were very wealthy, having intermarried into the Malfoy line, and still did. However, he wasn't insane enough to voice his suspicion. After all, he wanted to keep his job.

"So," Frank said, breaking out of his thoughts. "What does the report actually say?"

Roanoke, Virginia, United States

5:00 PM

"Fucking Muggle election coming up, and we're chasing a British fugitive across North America," Webfelt muttered as Ashley tried to keep up with him. They were on to visit what Webfelt had taken to calling 'a fucking hick town in nowheresville.' They were to stay there for the next three days, trying to figure out exactly where Black was, and then deciding the best means to capture him. Then, they would Apparate back to Roanoke to meet the Brits and tell them what their plan of action.

She was confused as to why the two of them were going, but the question had been cleared up for her when she was told that it was the President of the Magical States of America who had ordered the two of them to investigate the matter. She supposed that it was embarrassing for the President to have Black get away so many times before.

However, she wasn't exactly what one would have called thrilled. Spending time with her boss inside the office was a chore, she could only imagine how difficult it was going be outside of the office, where he really would not need to restrain himself from saying exactly what he was thinking. That, and her fiancé, Andrew, had been less than pleased with her assignment.

"You did grab the file, correct Stanish?"

"Of course sir, I'm not completely incompetent, you know," she replied, somewhat more bitterly than she would have normally.

"I never said you were. Because if you were, I would have fired you a long time ago."

"That's nice to know for the fture, sir," she said as they walked out of the large glass and marble building in silence.

"Once we pass the arrival point, we're supposed to Apparate to St. John's Cemetery for the Deceased," Webfelt said, reading off a piece of paper. "A cemetery for the deceased, well I'm glad that was cleared up," he huffed. "All this time I thought it was for live people."

Surprised by her boss's attempt at a joke, she cocked an eyebrow. "It was nice of them to clear that up, yes," she said coolly as they walked through the lush green gardens in front of the building, until they passed the arrival point. She checked her coordinates one last time because she didn't want to get lost in the expanse of nothing that was Ohio.

Somewhere in England

9:45PM

An eleven-year-old boy sat poring over his pile of summer course work, he currently had his thick Potions text open.

"Shrinking solutions...shrinking solutions..." he muttered to himself as he leafed through the pages of his book. He was bound and determined to stay at the top of his year during the next term. After all, he wanted nothing less than to be a Prefect.

He heard someone come down the hall and then there was a soft knock at the door. "Are you still awake?" he heard his mum ask as she opened the door.

"I was just getting ready to go to bed Mum, I was working on Potions." She smiled at him, and it made him proud to know that his efforts made her happy.

"You'll be fine dear. Now, go to bed before you work yourself to death. You'll have a heart attack by twelve at this rate," she teased him, turning down the blue covers of his bed.

"I will, just let me tidy up my things a bit, then I'll go to bed straight away, I promise," he told her, he was already beginning to put his quills in their proper places.

"All right, good night love." His mum gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then left the room, closing the door behind her. He finished putting away his school things and then jumped into bed. He leaned over to his nightstand which held a single candle and a cage. He put out the candle, and lay on his back, closing his eyes.

"Good night Scabbers," he said, just before he drifted off to sleep.