Promises Unbroken

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Twenty-Four: Returns and Remembrances

Traveling by way of Floo Powder after not having done so for a decade proved to be an interesting experience, and Sirius came tumbling into Diagon Alley with something far less than grace. He clambered to his feet, scowling and cursing under his breath, even more angered by the hand that reached out to help him up. But he didn't bother to pull away as the other wizard hauled him to his feet, aching leg and all. After all, if you couldn't look the part of a fool in front of friends, who could you trust?

"Thanks," he grumbled, brushing himself off and consciously putting just as much weight on his right leg as his left. As much as he was touched by it, his friends' constant worrying was beginning to drive him insane--

"Are you all right?" James asked with concern.

"I'm fine." Perceptive hazel eyes studied him, and Sirius relented. "As fine as I'm going to be for awhile, anyway. Don't worry about it, James."

Something pained flashed in his friend's eyes. "I just..."

"Feel guilty, I know." Sirius turned to face him, and put a hand on James' shoulder. "And nothing I say is going to change that, is it?"

"No." James swallowed. "Every time I look at you, I think about what you went through and--"

"Shut up, James. Don't say it. Don't even think it. This isn't your fault."

"But after what Voldemort--"

The name brought back memories, too many memories, and Sirius closed his eyes, struggling to shut them out. For a moment, he was back there, back in either Azkaban or Casa Serpente, and he couldn't hold back the whirling pain that filled his mind, or stop remembering the constant psychological grind of fighting daily to keep his soul his own...but he fought the memories back. It's over, Sirius told himself. It's over, and I'm home. I'm home. James must have stopped talking when he saw him close his eyes, though, because his next words came very quietly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you."

Sirius forced his eyes open. "I know," he replied. He swallowed the emotion back "Let's just talk about something else, all right?"

"Sure."

Their conversation drifted in topics as they made their way down the street, ranging from Quidditch (Puddlemere United was on top once again) to old school friends. They consciously avoided darker subjects; his week laid up in bed had allowed Remus to inform Sirius of how many old friends were gone--claimed by Voldemort, by death, or by both. Their progress was somewhat slower than Sirius would have liked, but James seemed to be able to tell how much his leg was hurting him, and adjusted his pace accordingly. Sirius didn't argue; James was, after all, there to look out for him (no matter how galling that thought was), and he was touched by the concern. It had been a long time since he'd been with friends, and the feeling was still new enough to be novel.

A feeling he appreciated less, however, was the knowledge of how many eyes followed their progress. Most, Sirius realized (intellectually at least), were simply curious onlookers who recognized him from the front page of the Daily Prophet. Others, however, looked his way with less kindly smiles, and his instincts flagged once more.

"Comforting, isn't it?" James remarked dryly, having obviously felt the same creepy feeling on the back of his neck.

"I wish I had a wand," Sirius grumbled quietly.

"Tell me about it."

Together, they mounted Gringotts' white marble steps, walking past the scarlet and gold clad goblin and through the bronze front doors. After passing through the silver second set of doors, Sirius found himself staring at the vaulted ceilings and long counter--it had been a long time since he'd encountered civilization. Hogwarts had, of course, been different, although he'd done a bit of staring there, as well. But now... He shook his head and forced his eyes to stop staring like he was some poor Muggleborn wizard who'd never seen a goblin before. He turned his head to face James.

"I meant to tell you before," he said quietly. "But thanks for coming with me."

"I could use the time off," James replied lightly. "Besides, what else are friends for?"

Finally, they reached a free counter, and Sirius fished the small golden key out of his pocket, thankful that he'd entrusted it to Dumbledore before going into hiding so many years ago. "Sirius Black," he said quietly. "Vault seven hundred and eleven."

The goblin had to be the only nearby being that didn't swing around upon hearing his words. Every witch and wizard within hearing distance turned to stare at him, and Sirius heard the excited murmur pass quickly around the vast marble hall. To his right, he heard James' quiet sigh, which made him shrug.

"You're famous, mate."

He rolled his eyes. "Lovely."

"Everything seems to be in order," the goblin remarked as if nothing unusual had happened and half the hall wasn't staring at them. He gestured at a nearby goblin. "Eliphed will take you to the vault."

"Thank you."

Sirius and James followed Eliphed in silence, and soon they were in a Gringotts cart, traveling deep beneath the surface of London. At first, Sirius' delicate traitorously stomach objected to the high-speed journey, but after a few minutes, it seemed to calm down, despite the mad twists and turns. As many times as he'd been down this way, Sirius had never been able to remember every change of course they took, and this time was no different--at least in that respect. However, the darkness did bring back memories that he'd rather forget, and unlike his childhood, when he'd enjoyed such journeys, Sirius found himself wishing this one would be over soon.

"So," James asked over the noise of the cart, "where to next?"

"Ollivander's," Sirius replied immediately. "If I have to go much longer without a wand, I'll hex myself."

James chuckled. "Hard to do that without a wand, you realize."

"Shut up." But he had to smile. "No offense, but I do not enjoy being babysat. And especially not by you."

"I'm hurt, Sirius! And here I was, thinking that I made a perfect nanny."

"You would," Sirius snorted.

The cart screeching around another bend drowned out James' reply, and in the following silence, Sirius felt carefully at his right leg. Pomfrey had assured him that it was healing fine, but her definition of healing was still far too slow for his tastes. He hated feeling vulnerable. Too many years had passed while Sirius had been completely unable to act, only capable of surviving and fighting where he could. But he was done being helpless.

"Vault seven hundred and eleven," Eliphed declared as the cart skidded to a stop before the familiar door of a very old and high security vault.

"Here." James had climbed out first and offered him a hand, which Sirius took, albeit a bit reluctantly. He hated feeling weak.

"Thanks."

James' smile told him that he understood perfectly, and both watched in companionable silence as Eliphed unlocked the door. A flash of green smoke filled the corridor, but it dissuaded neither of them, and Sirius quickly collected the currency he'd come for. It was somewhat of a comfort to pause there, back in his family's old Gringotts vault; this was one of the last connections that he had to his childhood. For a moment, he closed his eyes, and brought images of his parents to mind--but that, too, brought darkness. He did remember early childhood as a happier time, remembered running and playing with his brother before time had driven them apart... Sirius frowned. He'd run away from home at sixteen and never looked back. In some ways, he could blame that on Voldemort, whose rise had encouraged his parents to cling to their prejudices more strongly than ever before, and had driven Sirius away as he came to learn that the world didn't have to be so narrow. Hogwarts had encouraged and taught him to fight monsters like them. From the day he'd left home forward, Sirius had known he'd be an Auror.

Sirius opened his eyes, and his lips curled into a silent snarl. As he turned to depart, he looked over his shoulder one last time at the only physical legacy his parents had left him, apart from the family home he'd not visited in over eleven years. He had, however, inherited a great deal of power from both of them, and the temper to match it. Now, he could blame the Dark Lord twice over. First, for making him--and now, for shaping him.

I sincerely hope that comes back to haunt you.

Together, he and James left the bank and headed to buy Sirius' second wand. He didn't need to look back again.

------------

Unfortunately, trouble found them in front of Gambol and Japes. Of course, the witch in question wasn't exactly the biggest threat that either James or Sirius had ever faced (given their careers, after all, that would have been a lot), but she was certainly the largest annoyance. Her blonde hair curled tightly and green eyes staring out from behind jeweled spectacles, she approached them with an ingratiating smile that set Sirius' teeth on edge.

In retrospect, he would have much preferred Death Eaters.

"Sirius Black!" She rushed forward, holding out a manicured hand as if she expected him to take it.

He didn't.

She hardly missed a beat. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet," she said briskly. "You don't mind if I ask you a few questions, do you?"

"Actually--"

"Your story has captivated thousands of witches and wizards across the world," she went on, speaking over him as if he hadn't objected at all. "Your miraculous escape from Azkaban has many heralding you as a sign of hope. What would you say to all those who look to you as an example in the coming days?"

"Look, I hate to be impolite, but I really don't have time for this," Sirius replied. Floating in the air next to Skeeter was a paper and quill; the quill was moving furiously over the page, even though he'd said almost nothing. He started to walk away. "Perhaps another time."

"What was it like in Azkaban, Mr. Black?"

He froze.

Pain.

"You won't hold out forever, you know."

Blood blurred his vision. When magic failed, the Lestranges always found something more creative to play with.

"Why even bother? Why prolong your own suffering?"

Pain.

"No..."

"Crucio!"

Skeeter stepped in front of him, her expression intent. "I'm sure there are many families would desperately like to know what their kin face inside the prison--"

Sirius blinked. "No."

"But can you deny them that knowledge? Don't they deserve to know?" Skeeter pressed.

"There are some things," he finally managed through the tight feeling in his chest, "that people do not need to know."

"But--"

"No." Now it was James who cut her off in a hard voice, stepping in between Sirius and Skeeter. "He gave you his answer."

She scowled at James. "The public has a right to know."

"Just like he has a right not to answer," James replied. Suddenly, he reached out and plucked her paper right out from under the Quick Quotes Quill. "And I'll take this."

"That's my personal property!"

James pulled his wand out. "I intend to give it back. Pariocum."

Despite whirling his state of mind, Sirius almost smiled as James innocently returned the now blank sheet of parchment to Rita Skeeter. She took it angrily, but he saw a strange light in her eyes as she undoubtedly figured that she'd be able to resurrect the information later. However, she obviously underestimated the Marauders' pranking ability--and clearly had no idea that parchment would only ever tell her dirty jokes.

"Good day, Ms. Skeeter."

Together, James and Sirius walked away, ignoring the staring crowd and making their way towards Ollivander's. After a few moments, the gathered witches and wizards began to go back to their own business, but Sirius didn't miss the extra glances thrown their way. His leg ached madly.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "I owe you one."

"No you don't." James gave him a firm look, which softened after a moment. "Memories catch you unawares?"

"Yeah." But I don't want to think about it, so let's not talk about it.

James must have caught the silent plea. "What kind of wand do you think you'll get this time?"

"I'm not sure." He shrugged. "On one hand, I've changed, but on the other... I guess I'll just have to find out."

"Hopefully it won't be like Harry's trip last August," James commented.

"Why's that?"

"It took hours for Ollivander to find one that fit him. Finally, he uncovered a wand that had to be at least a half of a century old and had been collecting dust for ages. Lily couldn't stop sneezing when Harry pulled it out of the package at home."

Sirius smiled slightly. "What is it?"

"Mahogany and unicorn hair, eleven inches." James smiled, and Sirius read in his eyes how proud his friend was of Harry. Then again, he'd always known that James would make a great dad.

"Interesting." Sirius stopped right underneath the great sign that read: Ollivander's': Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

"What?"

"This place hasn't changed a bit." The same cushion sat in the same dusty window, with probably the same wand sitting on top of that, too. As he pulled open the door, Sirius inhaled the same dust-filled air and wondered, not for the first time, how precious woods like those in so many wands survived in such a hostile environment. He sneezed.

"I don't think it ever will," James replied. The same soft bell tinkered in the back of the store, and within seconds, Ollivander appeared. At eleven, Sirius had been convinced that the old wizard had Apparated directly to the spot in front of him, but now he knew better. The store's proprietor was simply lurking behind the endless rows of boxes, doing whatever it was that he did as he waited for new customers to arrive.

And this time, it was Ollivander's turn to be shocked. Sirius watched with slight satisfaction as the old wizard's silver eyes widened, then blinked once, sharply, to regain composure.

"Sirius Black," he said abruptly. "Ebony and phoenix feather, thirteen inches, and rather elastic."

Sirius met the gaze that he'd considered disconcerting as a child and now could hardly blink upon encountering. "Yes."

"And James Potter, what a surprise." The silver eyes focused briefly on his friend. "Mahogany and dragon's heartstring, eleven inches and pliable, isn't it?"

"It is." James nodded. Some wizards changed wands as they grew, but Sirius wasn't surprised to hear that he still had his first. It had always fit James well.

"To what do I owe this honor, gentlemen?" Ollivander asked, shifting his gaze between the two.

"I need a wand," Sirius replied quietly.

Ollivander looked at him sharply. "What happened to the last?" he asked suspiciously. "Very potent wand, that--excellent for the Dark Arts...or defending against them."

"Voldemort," Sirius replied simply, making Ollivander jump. Something tried to well up in his soul, but he pushed it down. He'd be damned if he'd fear saying that monster's name.

"Ah. I see." The old wizard turned away quickly, moving towards the nearest stack of boxes. "Well, then... perhaps..." He pulled down a pair of boxes. "Ebony and phoenix feather is an unusual combination...perhaps this one."

Sirius took the offered wand silently, but something in him told him that this wasn't it. He hadn't taken quite as long as Harry to choose his first wand, but at eleven he had spent a good thirty minutes trying out wands with his disconcerted parents, and wouldn't be surprised if it took just as long this time. If not longer.

"Ebony and unicorn hair. Eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, give it a wave."

A flick of his wrist sent a book flying off of the single spindly chair in the store, and Ollivander snatched the wand from his hand.

"Perhaps not. Try this one--eleven and a quarter inches, willow and dragon's heartstring. Excellent for Charms."

Nothing happened. Ollivander offered yet another. And then another, until he turned to face them both with a curious look on his face. "I wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Sirius asked cautiously.

"Try this one. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Yet Ollivander seemed hesitant to hand it over. Finally, he did so, and Sirius gave it an experimental wave.

A slight glow appeared at the wand's tip, but it disappeared so quickly that he almost thought that he'd imagined it. A tingle ran its way up his arm, and he sensed something that he'd never felt from a wand before--a sense of waiting. There was power there, and possibility, but it was as if this wand was meant for something that had never been, and might yet never be. Yet the wand still waited.

"Almost," he said quietly, drawing his thoughts away from the future. "But not for me."

Ollivander took the wand back. "Strange," he mused, turning back to the rows of boxes. "If anyone, I would have thought... But never mind! Here it is. My newest wand: ebony and phoenix feather, twelve inches, very rigid. Powerful wand, this one."

Sirius had hardly touched the wand when a shower of black and gold sparks ignited and filled the room with eerie shadows and brighter light. Ollivander's face split into a grin as Sirius felt power race up his arm and into his body. He felt lighter, all of a sudden, and more like himself than he had in years.

"I'll take this one," Sirius said quietly, his eyes still on the wand. It was beautiful: shiny, black, and unmarred by even a single scratch; something told him that he was the first person aside from Ollivander to lay a finger on this wand. And it was his. All his.

His smile had grown unconsciously, and when he looked up to meet James' eyes, Sirius knew his own were shining. He felt alive again, perhaps more so than he had even with his best friends. Twirling the wand slightly in his hand, he tested its balance and weight. Both were perfect, of course, but he'd expected no less. Within a few days, he'd come to know that wand better than he knew himself.

"Excellent!" Ollivander exclaimed. "Would you like me to wrap--"

The world exploded.

------------

"Do you think it will work?" Lily asked nervously.

Molly chuckled. Honestly, there were times when Lily Potter--as confident, capable, and powerful witch that she was--could be oddly self-depreciating. She laid a hand on her young colleague's shoulder. "Of course it will work, dear."

"Maybe," Lily sighed. "I just hope we got the focusing spell right..."

"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"I suppose so." Lily turned to face her, finally, with a slight smile. "Thanks, Molly. Project Guardian would still be wallowing around in the shallows if it weren't for your help."

"We all do what we can, Lily," Molly responded quietly. And after all, it wasn't as if Lily and her Unicorn Group hadn't put in months of work on this project long before Molly had ever even joined the Order of the Phoenix. Although she knew that she'd done almost half the spell work on Project Guardian, it still felt odd to be given so much credit by Lily, who although many years her junior, had been the head of the Unicorn Group ever since its conception over a decade before. Lily was, after all, one of Dumbledore's chosen few, and although Molly didn't know enough to understand the inner workings of the Order, she knew enough to respect the brilliant witch beside her.

"Well," her friend took a deep breath. "Let's try it, then."

Together, they spoke the final spell. It was only a key word, really, which activated the layers upon layers of enchantments worked under the guise of Project Guardian. Slowly, lines began to spread all over the tabletop sized piece of parchment stretched out before them, and as they multiplied, the lines began to take shape. They were light and fuzzy in many places, but a room full of paper wouldn't have accurately mapped the entire city of London (plus Diagon Alley), so the Unicorn Group had settled for detail where it mattered, and the ability to "zoom in" on places of interest. All it took was the touch of a wand at a trouble spot, and then that area would come in with as much detail one could ever wish. In the meantime, however, the giant map was dormant, waiting, and only actively sensitive to dark magic.

The two witches exchanged triumphant grins as the lines finished filling the parchment, flickering faintly as the Guardian went to work. Although they had known it would work, they hadn't known, and there was nothing like proof to feed their sense of accomplishment. The Order--and therefore the Ministry--had just gained a most invaluable tool. It worked.

They hadn't expected, however, for the Guardian to immediately report results.

"Oh my God," Lily whispered.

"Where?" Molly quickly came around the edge of the table as Lily's wand touched down.

"Diagon Alley."

------------

Glass fragmented and Sirius dove, distantly aware that James had done the same thing off to his right, taking Ollivander down with him. Red light flashed, and he rolled behind the row of boxes closest to the window, hearing shattered glass crunch underneath him as he went. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius watched James' shoes disappear behind the counter, and the startled umph! accompanying the motion told him that Ollivander was alive as well. Still, to be careful, he called:

"James?"

"I'm fine! Are you?"

"Yeah."

Sirius heard a scuffle, and assumed that the Auror had shoved Ollivander as far out of range as possible and was looking for a position himself. In the meantime, Sirius cautiously eased his head up to look over the boxes and out what remained of the window. The first thing he noticed was that the street was remarkably clear.

The second was two shadowy forms, one peeking out from the shadowy doorway of the junk shop across the street, and the other hiding behind a conveniently overturned trash bin. They were clearly hoping that either he or James would be stupid enough to come running outside to find out what had happened, even though that wasn't exactly likely. Sirius inched his head up slowly, hoping to identify one of the pair, but a sudden movement from the one in the junk shop's window warned him in time--

Light flashed, and several boxes of wands exploded over his head. Wood fragments, cardboard, and stray glass rained down as Sirius desperately shielded his face with his arms, biting back a curse at the same time. Yet there was something cool and hard in his hand, something cylindrical and firm. Ebony and phoenix feather, twelve inches.

"Sirius?" James called worriedly.

He responded instinctively. "Intact!"

"Do you still have it?"

They both knew James wasn't talking about his new wand. Do you still have it, Sirius? he asked himself. Ten years it had been since he'd been an Auror. A lifetime spent in darkness and pain separated him from the skills of his past. He'd studied spell books like mad ever since the incident at breakfast the day before, but that wasn't exactly the same. One breath. Two. Concentration and focus. Adrenaline sped up his heartbeat, yet his breathing slowed. Calmed. The world was narrowing down to that one moment, and all other concerns fled. Nothing else mattered.

Lying on his back amid broken glass and debris, Sirius Black responded calmly. "I'm good."

"Door or window?" James asked immediately.

"Window." They had been partners for a year, and friends for even longer. Had Sirius ever been asked who he'd prefer to go into battle beside, the answer would always be James. "There are two of them. One in the junk shop, the other in the street."

"Right. I'm coming to you. Give me a distraction, will you?"

"Ready." Sirius inched his head up more carefully this time. "On three." Very slowly, he worked his wand up over the bottom ledge of the window, taking aim at the trash bin. "Three! Reducto!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James vault over the desk, but the trash bin's spectacular explosion captured his attention. The Death Eater who had previously been using it as shelter fled to Sirius' left and out of sight, limping slightly. I hope that hurt, Sirius thought nastily. But neither of his opponents would be so careless a second time, so he quickly brought his head back down and made himself less of a visible target.

Thud. James landed beside him before the other bad guy could react.

"Nice," he breathed. "Trash bin?"

"Previously."

James chuckled slightly, shifting position until they were almost back to back. Sirius didn't have to look at his old friend to know what he would do; although they had never been in a situation quite like this, the pair had shared enough trouble to know where the other would be. The decision had already been made, and there were only two exits, anyway--"Mr. Ollivander?"

"Yes?" the old man's head started to come up.

"Stay down!"

"Protego!" At his back, James' Shield Spell blocked the incoming curse. Ollivander disappeared once more, and Sirius cursed under his breath.

"You don't happen to have a back door in this place, do you?"

"Already asked," James replied before Ollivander could answer. His tone was all the response Sirius needed.

"Lovely."

"Indeed."

"Well, shall we?" Sirius snuck a look out the shattered window. "The first is still in the junk shop. The second is to my left, sneaking up along the side of the shops."

"Ready?" Neither thought of Apparating. Doing so would have left Ollivander and the other denizens of Diagon Alley to deal with at least two Death Eaters on their own, which neither of them could do. Long ago, both had vowed to protect people like this, and neither Sirius Black nor James Potter countenanced failure.

"Ready."

Sirius waited a heartbeat, and then two. One wrong move and they'd both be dead--or worse--but he and James were slipping into the old roles, trusting one another implicitly. They'd been here before, and his training was coming back as if someone had cast a rust-removing charm on his brain. Alastor Moody's old words came back to him. Act, don't react. Spend time trying to outthink your opponent and you're dead. Just act. He felt James tense beside him. Another heartbeat.

"Now!" James cried.

Sirius threw himself upwards and rolled out the window as James spun to the left and out the door. He tumbled, letting momentum carry him past where his initial opponent would aim for, and came up in his old dueling crouch, finding it by sheer instinct. Immediately, his right hand whipped forward, and he let training drive his mind. "Petrificus Totalus!"

To his left, James employed a strike spell. Both, predictably, missed.

But neither had really expected to hit. They'd only needed to escape; now, however, the fun could begin, and curses began to crisscross in the very air of Diagon Alley.

"Imperio!"

Sirius' hastily constructed shield buckled and collapsed under the weight of one of the Unforgivable Curses, but by the time the weakened spell got through, he was rolling again and out of range. The Imperius Curse was notoriously hard to block or break, but fast enough action allowed a wizard to avoid it. He came upright, still in his crouch--"Suffocoum!"

His Choking Spell was blocked, and he received a Conjunctivitis Curse in return, which Sirius batted aside with hardly a second thought. Quickly, he shifted his aim ever so slightly.

"Reducto!"

The door of the junk shop exploded, pelting the tall Death Eater with wood fragments and driving him out of shelter. To his left, Sirius acknowledged James' Freezing Spell and the Incinerator Curse that came in reply, but he knew that his friend could take care of himself. The moment the taller Death Eater (he could see them both, now), stumbled into the open, Sirius was ready. "Resiacio!"

A nearby bench sailed into the Death Eater, and he went down. Sirius didn't wait for positive results; instead, he leapt to his feet and raced forward, wand still raised and aimed.

"Vulernocorpus!" He cast the Paralysis Spell without second thought, and it was just in time. Having shouldered the bench away, his opponent had begun to stand, only to collapse as his lower body gave out. However, instead of aiming his wand at Sirius again, the Death Eater instead turned it upon himself.

He Apparated with an audible pop.

Sirius skidded to a stop and whirled, changing his focus and trying to zero in before it was too late. Even as he spun to face James' opponent, though, he knew it was of no use. He managed to turn just in time to see his old friend fell the shorter man with a well-placed Choking Spell, but even as a Stunning Spell touched James' lips, his opponent had copied his partner. In the blink of an eye, both Death Eaters were gone. When James turned towards him, the frustration was plain on his features. Sirius supposed he looked much the same.

The street was eerily quiet, but heads were beginning to poke out from behind whatever shelter they'd been able to find. Curious and foolhardy souls ventured out into the street, still keeping their distance, some poking at the debris Sirius had left behind, and others just staring. Instincts alert, Sirius glanced around, but there seemed to be no other immediate threats. James started walked in his direction, and Sirius limped forward to meet him halfway. Cautiously, he put his wand away, relishing the feeling of having it in his hand, but knowing that keeping it there would only make him seem paranoid.

"Damn," he said quietly.

"They were fast," James agreed. "And smart."

"Unfortunately," he sighed. "Was that who I thought it was?"

James' response was cut off by the arrival of Arabella Figg and an entire team of Aurors. While Sirius hadn't seen the DMLE's head since they were both Aurors in the Division, he recognized the pinched look on the old witch's face as she surveyed the destruction they--Sirius, really, because James had always been neater about things like this--had wrought. She scowled in James' direction.

"I should have known you'd find trouble," Figg said unhappily.

"I usually do."

"Who was it?"

"Mulciber and Flint," James replied, but his quiet tone didn't hide the frustration in his voice from Sirius, who frowned as Arabella Figg's steely gray eyes zoomed in on him.

"You've made yourself a target, Black."

He met her gaze. "You can blame Voldemort for that."

"Indeed," Figg snorted. But her eyes bored into his as if she expected him to break into pieces then and there. The lost, shattered, and strained part of his soul very much wanted to do so; it wanted to run and hide, trying to shield what remained of himself from the horrors of the outside world. But he wouldn't let it, and that determination must have shown in his eyes, because she relented. "Well, you seemed to have managed adequately enough."

I'm glad I have your approval, Sirius thought dryly, but he didn't say it. Figg might have been old, but he respected her abilities and her judgment, even if she did look at him as if she expected him to crumble. Instead, he replied dryly, "Thanks."

"How did you get here so fast?" James asked as the other Aurors quickly and efficiently began combing the area for evidence. They wouldn't find anything, of course, but it was a standard practice, and there was always the chance that someone would get careless.

A small smile creased her face, and her eyes cut briefly to Sirius. "Project Guardian is now fully functional."

Sirius whistled softly. "Nice."

"That is good news," James agreed.

"Quite," Figg grunted. Suddenly, her sharp eyes caught sight of something behind Sirius and James, and she frowned deeply. "You two had best leave quickly."

"Why?" James asked warily.

"Skeeter."

They didn't have to be told twice. With hardly a glance at one another, the two old friends escaped down a path between the junk shop and its neighbor, leaving Arabella Figg to deal with the Daily Prophet's sensationalist-seeking reporter.