Black Jack

Chapter III:

And The Storm Begins

Why do we play with fire?
Why do we run our finger
through the flame?
Why do we leave our hand
on the stove although we know
we're in for some pain?

Lyrics by Jonathan Larson "Louder than Words" from the musical Tick...Tick...Boom!

Fifteen year-old Harry Potter wondered if the afternoon could possibly get any longer as rain plunked out a steady rhythm on the windowpane above his bed.

He could almost make out the words Sirius is dead in its syncopation.

The rain whispered those words because that was the truth. His godfather was gone. Sirius Black was dead, and nothing was going to bring him back.

No use beating yourself up over it. Harry silently berated himself. It had been a long time since he had more than a few minutes to just...fill. It had been some time since he'd had to think at all, which wasn't altogether a bad thing. The few weeks' of holiday he'd had so far was filled with a never-ending list of chores that he could complete on autopilot.

Of course it hadn't been all chores, but he still hadn't been able to shut off the autopilot. Remus Lupin wrote every Monday afternoon, and he'd replied by that evening. One of the Weasleys (usually Ron) called every Thursday. Tonks usually disguised herself as a saleswoman or a church parishioner asking for donations just to pay him a visit every Saturday. It was easy to put on a convincing act in order to prove to them that he was doing better for an hour or so every few days.

And he almost was.

Today was Sunday, though. He didn't have to fake improvement.

It had started with a long list of chores. None of them impossible, but it was grueling work like weeding Petunia's hydrangea bed. Around mid-morning, the rain began to fall. He'd finished the chores that could have been done indoors an hour ago. Petunia had just left for London to run some errands. It was either stay in the bedroom or contend with Dudley and his mate crowding around the television. His Uncle Vernon was doing something with the car in the garage (he wouldn't have trusted Harry with the car, or Harry himself would've done it). Given the options, he'd go with solitude. Aunt Petunia wouldn't return for another hour if she planned on getting groceries for dinner (Harry noticed this morning that the refrigerator was almost empty). But until her return, he could just listen to the rhythm of the falling rain, convincing him of the truth.

He was shaken out of his near-sleeping state by the shrill ring of the doorbell. But Tonks visited yesterday, he thought absently. Next thing he knew, he heard Dudley calling for his father.

He was suddenly extremely aware of a loud conversation that was taking place downstairs.

"I DON'T KNOW ANY SIRIUS BLACK!" Vernon was shouting.

Sirius? What did Uncle Vernon have to do with Sirius? Harry wondered.

"Mr. Dursley," Harry heard someone saying, "I'm only taking you down for questioning at this point. No charges are going to be pressed if you cooperate. A murderer is on the loose. Your name and this address came up in connection with this mass murderer. We only want to clarify. However, should you resist, there will be charges."

Next thing Harry knew, Number Four Privet Drive was almost shaking with the thud of an angry door-slam, followed by furious, quaking footsteps.

"Dad, what's going on?" Harry's cousin, Dudley demanded.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon barked. "DOWNSTAIRS! NOW!"

Harry knew better than to hesitate. He had to admit he was more than a little curious. That's impossible...Harry shook his head as if to physically rid his brain of the thought. I would've seen Sirius in the mirror if he were still alive.

A very stern-looking man in uniform stood in the doorway.

"If anybody deserves to be arrested, it's him," Dudley said, pointing a sausage-like finger at Harry. "You know he threatens me every summer? He goes to St. Brutus's. Who knows what he picked up there."

"I'll keep that in mind," the man told him dryly.

"ASK HIM!" a purple-faced Uncle Vernon ordered.

"Ask me what?" Harry answered.

The man took one look at Harry and rolled his eyes. "I hardly think that this boy has anything to do with a serial killer in London."

"Sirius Black is his godfather! Ask him!" Uncle Vernon insisted.

"All right," the man answered with an impatient sigh. "Do you have any idea as to why I'm inquiring about this man's involvement with the serial killer Sirius Black?"

For reasons Harry didn't understand, a grin fought at the corner of his mouth for the first time since his godfather fell through the veil. He successfully suppressed his urge to laugh out loud with a cough. "No sir. No idea at all." And it wasn't a lie. He really didn't have a clue.

"LIAR!!" Vernon roared.

"One more outburst like that, and I'll call child services, sir, and you'll be brought in for questioning in regards to child abuse AND aiding a known criminal. I think," he finished snapping the cuffs around Vernon's wrist, "you should come with me. Vernon Dursley, you're being arrested for aiding a criminal."

"You'll be hearing from my attorney," Vernon promised.

"I'm sure we will, Mr. Dursley," the man was saying, "watch your head."

"DAD! WHAT'S HAPPENING!?" Dudley demanded.

"ASK YOUR COUSIN!" Vernon bellowed from the police car before the officer shut the door.

Harry turned to make his way up the stairs, but Dudley's bulky frame blocked the stairwell.

He could see Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss standing behind him

"WHY IN THE BLOODY HELL IS MY DAD BEING CARTED OFF TO JAIL?!" Dudley screamed.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Karma?" He tried to get around them, but they weren't budging.

"You know something," Dudley answered, grabbing Harry by the collar.

"What could I possibly know, Dud?" Harry asked. "I've been stuck here all bloody

holiday."

"Better tell us now or we'll beat it out of you, Potter," Piers threatened, pounding his fist

into the palm of his hand.

"Empty threats? Is that the best you've got?" Harry challenged, looking him squarely in

the eye.

"I don't think you want to see the best I've got," Dudley said. "I'm a pro. You're just a kid from St. Brutus's."

"You're a speck of dust compared to everyone else I've beaten," Harry growled. Without even thinking, he balled his hand into a fist, and made contact with his cousin's cheek.

Dudley fumbled backwards.

Piers evidently didn't wait for Dudley to compose himself and took the fight upon himself, punching Harry with all his strength in the gut.

Harry doubled over in pain. This was apparently the reaction Piers was waiting for, and pushed Harry against the wall. His back and head slammed against it with a thud.

Harry slid down and winced, pulling a leg up as Piers was ready to strike again. Harry hit Piers in his right knee, which brought the boy yelling to the ground.

Harry panted, and pulled himself the rest of the way up to find Dudley back in fighting pose with a fierce, deadly expression on his face. Harry did the same amongst the groans of Piers and punched first, aiming for Dudley's nose. But Dudley was apparently expecting it, because he quickly dodged Harry's move. Then, he smacked his fist into his cousin's jaw before Harry knew what had hit him. It knocked his glasses off his face as he stumbled backwards, hitting the back of his head on the stair railings.

"You can't even use your freak stuff," Dudley said, getting braver now. "You're not so tough without your funny little stick, are you?"

"I wasn't intending to use it, Dudley," Harry said stumbling forward, ignoring the

throbbing pain. His hand wiped blood from his lip and he stared at his cousin. "You're not worth getting expelled for."

"Come on then, Potter," he taunted. "Or are you too chicken?" Dudley egged on, helping Piers to his feet.

Harry breathed deeply and ran forward striking Dudley's shoulder with all his might.

Dudley reacted by hurling a punch at Harry's head but he bent down just in time to have

Piers accidentally hit Dudley in the head with a vase. The vase shattered all over Aunt Petunia's pristine carpet, and Dudley staggered with blood dripping from his head.

After realizing a second too late what Piers had done, he turned to Harry who was ready

to fight again.

"I've been waiting for this for a long time," Harry told Piers.

The boy smirked. "What? To be beaten into a bloody pulp? You didn't have to wait for that."

Harry backed away, his hand brushing the telephone table, finding a figurine. He yanked it and threw it at Piers who instantly ducked. The figurine crashed into the window, breaking it. Shards of glass went flying everywhere.

Harry stared in horror, but he suddenly heard his cousin bellow. Harry wheeled around

and saw Dudley swing his hand forward hitting his chest hearing a piercing crack. Harry

fell to his knees gasping for breath, loosing momentary muscle movement. Once he felt his arms again he gripped the back of Dudley's leg and made his cousin lose balance. Dudley hit the ground with a momentous thud, making the house vibrate.

Harry rolled over in pain trying to scramble away, but Piers turned him over as though he were a rag doll, allowing Dudley to wrap his hands around his throat.

Dudley wrapped his fat, chubby hands around Harry's throat, trying to choke him. "I-want-you-to-tell-me-what-you-did-to-my-dad."

Harry clenched his teeth, his fingers grasping his cousin's hair, trying to rip it out in order

for him to let go. "I... don't ... know ... anything," he said through the strangulation,

hearing a roaring sound like that of a motorcycle outside the house.

When ripping his cousin's hair out didn't work, Harry attempted to dig his fingers into his eyes. Dudley screamed, but didn't let go, instead he lifted Harry's head, bringing it down in contact with the ground with such force it made Harry frightfully dizzy.

The front door burst open. A strange woman not much older than them with lurid pink hair stood in the doorway, stopping the boys in their tracks. "WHAT IN BLAZING

HELL IS HAPPENING HERE?!" Tonks yelled.

Harry winced as he saw her yank something out of their cloak. Dudley and Piers suddenly disappeared.

Harry blinked in recognition. "Oh Harry...blimey, that must've hurt." Tonks said. Harry smiled lazily and closed his eyes.

For the second time in his life, he had vague memories of a flying motorcycle.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I sympathize with your situation. Really, I do. But you've got yourself into this mess, now you're going to have to get yourself out of it, savvy?"

"I. Have. To. Get. Back." Sirius answered.

"Let me get this straight," Jack slurred. "You're facing the gallows and you want to go back? Sounds to me like you're better off being a pirate."

Sirius's shoulder throbbed dully in pain, but at least the blood had stopped flowing and had begun to clot around the injury. When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by sapphire blue water as far as the eye could see. The place in which he had arrived was no longer on the horizon. With a start, Sirius realized that he had passed out soon after Jack recommended piracy. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the likelihood of returning to the island (or to anyone and anything else, for that matter) was slim to none. But then, he reminded himself, it's not like I haven't faced those kinds of odds before.

"Sleeping beauty awakens," Gibbs announced.

"What's your name?" Jack demanded.

"Black," was all Sirius would answer.

"How'd you come to find yourself out in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, Mr. Black?" Jack demanded.

"I'm not sure," Sirius answered. It wasn't far from the truth. He really didn't know how he got there. All he knew was that he needed to go back to where he came from.

"You lost quite a bit of blood there," Jack said. "I'd wager it's taken quite a toll on your faculties. Shall I go with a simpler, less philosophical question, perhaps? How'd you get that gunshot wound?"

"Someone shot me," Sirius answered.

"Care to elaborate?" Jack asked, eyeing the wound.

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

"The way I see it, you've just made a big mistake. You've presumed that keeping a secret is going to keep you safe. Do not underestimate what a man will or will not believe, savvy?" Jack snapped. "Now, I'll ask you again. Care to elaborate?"

"I really. Don't. Think. You'll. Understand," Sirius insisted. "Not unless you're realm of understanding extends to things like ghosts and magic."

Jack flipped something rather large and gold. "I believe in ghost stories and magic. Now. Tell me. How did you get that gun-shot wound?"

"It's a long story," Sirius mumbled.

In lieu of an answer, Jack made a grand gesture towards the open sea.

Anxious to avoid the question, Sirius attempted an aversion. "Did you find that dog?" Sirius shouted to Gibbs, who had been scanning the horizon on the other side of the boat ever since Jack struck conversation with him.

Gibbs shook his head.

"Wait a minute...how did you know we were shooting at a..." Jack began. "Gibbs!" he barked, "give me your rifle."

"I saw it. I saw it drown! Big, black dog, right?" Sirius lied. Both Gibbs and Jack ignored him. "You were trying to shoot the dog and you shot me! That's how I got this wound!" That was at least the truth, Sirius thought.

Gibbs stuffed the gun in his pocket. "Only got a couple of shots left. It'll take me all mornin' ter make more bullets. I'll not have you waste one on rubbish like him."

"Relax," Jack said. "I just want to look at something. I'm not going to send him to Davy Jones's locker. If I was going to shoot him, don't you think I'd use my own rifle? It has plenty of shots now."

Jack removed the bullet from the gun, and then found a rather formidable-looking knife on the floor of the boat. Using the edge of the blade, he carefully scraped away at the blackened dried blood that had caked on Sirius's arm. Releasing a loud, regrettable sigh as though he was about to do something painful, he muttered: "Better be worth it." He then took a flask, and poured some of the contents (from the smell, Sirius guessed it was rum) on the wound.

Sirius hissed with pain as Jack held the bullet up to the wound.

"I think we found our dog," Jack muttered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Remus heard the purr of Sirius's enchanted motorbike, and for a moment fooled himself into thinking that was his old friend coming through the door. It wasn't Sirius's motorbike anymore of course, but he couldn't think of it as anyone else's. Not just yet. A couple of weeks ago, Tonks had claimed it. At first, she just used it to run a few Order-related errands, and then it was understood that it was hers. It was Tonks at the door, however, not Sirius, and she looked angry.

"Remus!" Tonks called out from the doorway, "do me a favor and don't panic. Then get Poppy!"

"Why do we need..." he started to say, but then felt his heart drop to his feet when he when he saw Harry's levitated form cross the doorway. "What happened?"

"Didn't I tell you not to panic?" Tonks said. "Just get Poppy, would you? I checked him over for any serious injuries myself. Basic Healer skills are part of Auror training, you know. He's fine. Just...ooof!" she cursed as she tripped over the doorway. "Beaten to a pulp," she finished.

"He probably has a concussion and a few broken ribs!" Tonks called helpfully from the top of the staircase, which sent Mrs. Black's portrait into an ear-splitting tirade cursing her deceased son.

"She will be here shortly," Remus whispered once he and Tonks closed the portrait curtain.

"Help me Disillusion the parts of the house Poppy is going to be in, would you?" Remus said, muttering a few words making 12 Grimmauld Place look more like a dilapidated warehouse with every spell.

"Right, can't have Poppy giving away our location, even if she is coming to help Harry," Tonks answered, following suit.

"Where did you set him down?" Remus asked.

"I put him in the second bedroom on the right," Tonks informed him, moving into the great room.

"So he's all right, then?" Remus asked, trying to keep the guilt out of his voice once they were finished.

Tonks nodded. "It wasn't that uncle of his, if that makes you feel any better," she explained. "His marshmallow of a cousin and his cousin's mate were using him as a punching bag. I wouldn't have brought him here if there were anywhere else. I know it'll only upset him, but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

"Upsetting Harry is the least of our problems," Remus said. "He can't stay here. Any minute now, Jack Sparrow is coming through that door."

"I'm a tad muddled," Tonks said. "You told us that Jack knew Sirius, and that he died. And yet sixteen years ago while Sirius was on the run, Jack met him again? How's that possible?"

He held up a piece of parchment lying on the desk, and he also found some yarn Molly Weasley had left there, and tore off a few inches. "Time, as it exists now, is rather like a piece of string," he said, pulling the yarn taught.

"One end of the string is your birth and the other, your death," he continued. "Each event leads to another and to another and to another until it stops at your death. When someone travels through time, it alters the original history, so that time is no longer a continuous string in which one event leads to another, but more like a piece of parchment being almost torn in two, but not completely torn apart," Remus explained, demonstrating by ripping a parchment.

"You see now," he lectured, "how there is still a continuous section of the parchment, but there are two other parts that run in tandem with each other and are still a part of the original, but are separate?"

Tonks could only nod dumbly.

He tore off one section of the parchment.

"What can you tell me about this parchment now?" he demanded.

"It's no longer the same shape," Tonks answered, enlightenment finally crossing her face.

"Exactly, because something happened to this paper, irrevocably changing it," he said, "thereby making this paper," holding up the remaining parchment, "irrelevant. Something occurred to change the original history. In the original timeline, Sirius hadn't fallen through the veil. When Sirius fell through the veil, something happened that split the space-time continuum. So for Sparrow, it was his second time meeting Sirius while he was on the run from the law, but for Sirius, it was his first time meeting Sparrow."

"So if he meets Sparrow after he fell through the veil, then that means it would be Sirius's second time meeting Sparrow?" Tonks prompted.

"Precisely."

"And if Harry tries to go after Sirius, then the paper will be torn in three?"

Remus just nodded.

"I think I'm getting dizzy from all the thinking," Tonks said. "But there's still one thing I'm a touch fuzzy on."

"Which is?"

"Why are you keeping Harry and Sparrow apart? It's not like Sparrow's going to take Harry back two hundred years, even if the man has managed to live that long. Nobody can travel back in time without a time turner," Tonks answered. "And you can only travel by the hour with those. Even if Harry did manage to get a hold of a time turner, it would take an awful lot of turns to go back two hundred years. And even if Sparrow's figured out how to live for two hundred years, that still doesn't make him a wizard."

"There are too many things to risk. He won't admit it, but Harry is too much like his father for his own good. Once James got an idea into his head, there was nothing anyone could do to reason with him. Come to think of it, Lily was stubborn like that, too."

"And you're afraid that if Harry and Jack are introduced, then Harry will get all the wrong sorts of ideas and stop at nothing to get back to Sirius?"

"Something like that," Remus replied.

"You sound almost as if you want him to."

Remus sighed reluctantly. "I just want to avoid disaster."

"We'll take him to The Burrow later," she said as though it were an apology.

Remus gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm frankly glad that this happened. There's only so much you can do via correspondence. I'll feel better with him here, but there's still a problem. What do we do in the meantime? Keep them in separate corners?"

"Do you have any better suggestions?" Tonks answered, "There was nowhere else for me to take him. I tried taking him to Arabella's, but she was visiting her sister. My flat wouldn't have been warded properly, I didn't have enough petrol in the bike to get all the way to Ottery, St. Catchpole, and Mum's place is all the way in Kent."

"What were you doing in Little Whinghing in the first place?"

"Fletcher got wind of Vernon's arrest on that Extendable Earbox contraption the Weasley twins invented, and Owled me since I was closest. How do you suppose Dursley got himself mixed up in all this?"

"Probably because I told them Sparrow was Dursley and gave them that address," Remus answered with a wry grin.

"You're joking, right?" Tonks sputtered. "Bloody hell...you're not. Remus, it was bad. A window was broken. The carpets were ruined. That house looked like a war zone! And as far as the Dursley's are concerned, Harry's going to get the brunt of it!"

"I hadn't counted on the Dursley home being destroyed in the process. I'll compensate for damages. But I must admit, I'm not entirely sorry that Dursley got a bit arrested out of the deal."

"Just what are you going to do when he goes back after the term's over?" Tonks demanded.

"That will be dealt with when it requires attention, but for now, I suppose we'll just have to keep Harry and Sparrow from being introduced. After all, how long can Sparrow be here?"

"In those bad Muggle movies, isn't that the cue for the door to lock and the key to be rendered useless?"

A pop coming from the living room saved Remus from answering. Madame Pomfrey had arrived. Wordlessly, Remus indicated that her patient was up stairs and followed her.

At that moment, the door opened and when Remus turned to see who had arrived, he saw that no one was in the doorway. With a soft rustling of fabric, Moody appeared, and then tapped his wand, revealing Sparrow.

Remus came back down the stairs to greet them.

"How's the barrister business?" Jack said amiably.

"Did he give you any trouble?" Remus asked Moody, ignoring Jack entirely.

"Aye. Tried to get away from us after we broke him free, but a quick body-binding spell fixed that. He'll think twice before he tries to cross me again."

"I guarantee you, Mr. Moody, I won't even think once before I try again," Jack said. "You may have a few tricks up your sleeve, but you don't live two hundred years without learning a few tricks of your own."

"Mr. Sparrow," Remus said. "Someone else, someone very powerful, and very ruthless wants the kind of magic that you've found to make you live to be almost immortal. Will kill--has killed--for that kind of power. You'll be protected here, because there are those in this room who will die before we let that person obtain that kind of power. I can't give you that protection should you choose to trick us."

"Is that a threat?" Jack asked, moving through to the great hall.

"No," Remus answered, trying to catch up with him. "It's a guarantee."

"Sparrow!?" The portrait of Phineas Nigellus shouted.

"Captain Sparrow," he prompted. Then stopped abruptly, turned to face the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, and said, "just hanging around, eh Headmaster Nigellus?"

"I'll kindly thank you to get out of my family's house!" Nigellus barked.

"I would if I could, Headmaster, but it would seem that I have no choice in the matter."

"You two know each other?" balked Moody.

"Regretfully," they replied in unison.