Chapter 14 The Rebirth of Padfoot

Time continued its unstoppable advance, and the weather followed suit. The snows and crisp air of February gave way to the drier weather of March but the wind continued to skin their hands and faces of everyone who left the caste. Owl post was delayed as the unfortunate creatures kept getting turned around or just blown off course by the vicious wind and weather. Though Harry had sent an owl to Sirius to keep him up to date on the second task, his godfather had written back, and unlike their previous exchange of post, this one was terse and to the point:

Discovered information. Things you should know. Home within the Castle after sunset.

Harry slipped the parchment to Hermione who read it and looked at him. He nodded and she shrugged. Harry folded up the letter, thinking. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted to see Sirius again. He therefore approached the final lesson of the afternoon - double Potions - feeling considerably more cheerful than he usually did when descending the steps to the dungeons.

Though exempt from regular classes as a Triwizard Champion, the one subject that none of his tutors or trainers could help him with Potions. He had no choice but to suffer through that particular class and his good mood took a hit when he saw Ron arrive with the rest of the Slytherins, laughing about something. He stared at his former best friend and gave the group a wide berth. That did not stop Ron from glaring as he walked past.

The lesson dragged on in its usual biased manner, with Snape going after Neville who had been faring better than usual, as his skin grew thicker and more resistant to Snape's verbal barrages. Harry on the other hand, was dragged to the front row, just because. Whatever good mood he had, vanished as Snape managed to find flaw in every step Harry made, whether it was grinding his scarab beetles too fine, or for not slicing the ginger roots fine enough. He feigned deafness and ignored the potions master as best he could as the head of Slytherin house sniped at him, looking for any reason to assign detention, or to dock Gryffindor fifty points before the end of the class.

"You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you," Snape went on, so quietly that no one else could hear him, "but I don't care. You are nothing but a pesky little rule breaker. So I give you fair warning, Potter," Snape continued in a softer and more dangerous voice, "pint-sized celebrity or not - if I catch you breaking into my office one more time -"

"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" said Harry angrily, forgetting his feigned deafness. It was the truth: Hermione had taken the boomslang skin for the polyjuice in their second year, and Griphook had provided the Gillyweed.

"Don't lie to me," Snape hissed his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry. "Boomslang skin! Gillyweed! Both come from my private stores!"

"Right," said Harry coolly, "I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there."

Snape's eyes flashed as he plunged his hand inside his black robes. For one wild moment, Harry thought Snape was about to pull out his wand and curse him - then he saw that Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. Harry stared at it.

"Do you know what this is Potter?" Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again, waiting for Harry to shake his head before continuing, "It is Veritaserum - a truth potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," said Snape viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips" - he shook the crystal bottle slightly - "right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then Potter… then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not."

That truth potion was something that he would have to watch out for. Slipping it in to his drink when he was not looking was just the sort of thing Snape or a Slytherin would do. He wondered whether he should start drinking from a personally prepared hip flash, just like Auror Moody when there was a knock on the dungeon door.

"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice. The class looked around as the door opened. Headmaster Karkaroff of Durmstrang came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.

"We need to talk," said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely moving his lips, like a rather poor ventriloquist. Harry kept his eyes on his ginger roots, listening hard.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After the lesson," Snape snapped. Under the pretext of holding up a measuring cup to see if he had poured out enough armadillo bile, Harry sneaked a sidelong glance at the pair of them. Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry. Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period, intent on preventing Snape from slipping away. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Harry deliberately knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door. "What's so urgent?" he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.

"This," said Karkaroff, and Harry, peering around the edge of his cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm.

"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -"

"Put it away!" snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom.

"But you must have noticed -" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" spat Snape. "Potter! What are you doing?"

"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," said Harry innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the sodden rag he was holding. Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. Not wanting to remain alone with an exceptionally angry Snape, Harry threw his books and ingredients back into his bag and left at top speed.

The message from Sirius occupied a good deal of Harry's thoughts, leaving him somewhat absent minded at dinner. Not that many people noticed since the twins had laced several items at the Slytherin table with a few new products they wanted to test. He barely noticed that almost everyone at that particular house table had sprouted canary yellow feathers, a pair of antlers or horns during their meal in a "break out of animal magnetism" compliments of the Prank Masters.

He pushed away his half eaten dinner and left. Hermione followed. The rest of the retinue made no comment – Snape was enough to put any of them off food. And Harry's history with the greasy potions master was enough to put most off two meals. Though they debated following, a single glance from Hermione made it clear that everyone should just steer clear of Harry for a couple of hours. That meant, staying clear of the residence. Not that any of them minded - they still had a common room.

"Hello, Sirius," said Harry. His godfather was wearing the same ragged gray robes he'd been wearing for over a year now. The same ones he had probably worn in Azkaban. His hair was a long, black shaggy mane that trailed half way down his back. He looked… he was thin. The remains of several meals lay on the table. No doubt, Dobby and Winky had taken care of their guest. He grinned up at Harry, but Harry returned the grin only reluctantly, "What're you doing here?" he said.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. "Don't worry about it." He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harrys face, said more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Let's just say things are getting fishier. He nodded at a yellowing stack of Quibbler's and Daily Prophets on a side table.

Hermione picked them up and unfolded them. Harry, however, continued to stare at Sirius. "What if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

"Four students and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius, and continued to devour the chicken leg.

Hermione nudged Harry and passed him the Daily Prophets. There were two: The first bore the headline "Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch." The second read "Ministry Witch Still Missing-Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved." Harry scanned the story about Crouch. Phrases jumped out at him: Has not been seen in public since November… house appears deserted… St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment… Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness… "They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here… He did look ill, last time I saw him up close." said Harry slowly, still reading the story, "The night my name came out of the goblet…"

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, an edge to her voice, "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

Sirius looked interested. "Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry, and he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harrys' wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down.

"Let me get this straight," he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," said Harry.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy." Sirius paced all around the room, chewing through another plate of food. The discussions went back and forth, as theories evolved and ultimately shot down. There were too many people in the Top Box. Anyone could have stolen the wand. Winky was a possibility, but since she was working for Harry, they questioned her quickly and she admitted that she had not taken the wand. Finally, Sirius held up a hand for silence, "When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"Went to look in the bushes," said Harry, "but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course," Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, "He'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf… and then he sacked her?" Sirius shook his head and said, "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard. "All these absences of Barty Crouch's… he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too… It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"Do you know Crouch, then?" said Harry.

Sirius's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when Harry first met him, the night when Harry still believed Sirius to be a murderer. "Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial."

"What?" said Harry

"You're kidding!" said Hermione

"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know? He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," said Sirius. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical and power hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the look on Harrys face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side… well, you wouldn't understand… you're too young…"

"That's what Mr. Weasely said at the World Cup," sighed Hermione. Just to make her point, she pretended to swoon in to Harry who deftly caught her, she grinned at her boyfriends' godfather, "Try us, why don't you?"

A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face. "All right, I'll try you…" he grabbed a glass of juice, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You do not know who his supporters are, you do not know who is working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing… the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere…panic…confusion… that's how it used to be."

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and took the fight to the dark side. He authorized Auror to kill instead of capture, used Hit Wizards to kill known death eaters. It was rumored that the Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries were doing, well unspeakable things to counter Voldemort. Suspects were remanded to Azkaban without trial. There were dozens like me in there. Many were forgotten about," he shuddered.

"Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened…" Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione.

"Yep," said Sirius, throwing a chicken bone on to a plate. He tore a loaf of bread in half, "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while… gotten to know his own son." He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.

"Was his son a Death Eater?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. "I was already in Azkaban when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters – but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark. "Crouch let his son off? Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark - doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's "fatherly affection" stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, where he demonstrated how much he hated his own flesh and blood before letting the Dementors have him!"

"He gave his own son to the Dementors?" asked Harry quietly.

"That's right," said Sirius. He did not look remotely amused now. "The Dementors marched him right past my cell when they were bringing him in. He can't have been more than nineteen. His cell was near mine, and by nightfall, he was screaming for his mother. By dawn the next day, he'd lost his voice. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all went quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep…" For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry said.

"No," said Sirius dully. "He's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in. He wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the Dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The Dementors disposed of his body, like they did all the rest: They tossed it in to the sea."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth, instead picked up the glass of pumpkin juice, and drained it. "So Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, hero, poised to become Minister of Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

There was a long silence. Harry was thinking of the way Crouch's eyes had bulged as he had looked down at his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry.

"So… Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," concluded Hermione.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," said Sirius, nodding. "He still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater. So when I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added and the teens shared a grin, "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names, "Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery – from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperious Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Harry; "You should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions!" said Harry quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, but Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

"He showed Snape something on his arm?" said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, and then shrugged again. "Well, I've no idea what that's about… but if Karkaroff s genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers…" Sirius stared at the wall then made a grimace of frustration. "There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort." Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes. "What's the time?"

"It's half past nine," said Hermione.

Harry considered the situation; "Sirius, you know that things have gone from bad to worse with Ron right?" his godfather could only nod. Harry did not want to say it, because somehow, that would just make all of it, true. He had been hoping to save that friendship. Now however, he had to choose, between his perhaps former friend, and his godfather. In the end, there was only one choice, "Ron is no longer a friend. He hasn't been for a long time." The words seemed to stick in his throat, but he finally managed to get them out, "It's only a matter of time before he uses what he knows."

Sirius sighed, "I'd heard about the break up between you three." he nodded, "Don't suppose your goblin friends could help?"

"They can," said Harry, "Winky!" the elf popped in, "Please contact Griphook immediately. Message: Sanctum."

Griphook had been aware of the situation surrounding Sirius Black since its inception. The Goblins had also long been aware of Mr. Black's innocence for sometime before Harry had merely reconfirmed the truth of what they had already known. When Winky popped in, and delivered the one word message, Griphook's response arrived with Winky moments later, "Sanctum arising."

Griphook arrived thirty minutes later with a pair of Goblins in tow, "Mr. Black," said Griphook, "It has been a long time since we last met."

"Almost thirteen years," he agreed, "I trust that your clan prospers?"

Griphook smiled, "As well as can be expected during such times." He gestured the pair of Goblins that had accompanied him. One carried a battle axe slung over one shoulder, the other, had a pair of short swords, more like overly large daggers riding in scabbards set against his thighs. The two Goblins set to work, changing Sirius's appearance first and tying them to a pendant charmed invisible so that only Sirius himself could remove it.

Sirius grinned as a new face grinned back at him from a mirror, "Nice to know I can wander around in public," His long hair was as long as ever, but was silvery shot through with streaks of yellow amber with eyes that were a deep blue that bordered on the unnatural.

"Mr. Wolf," said Harry, experimentally, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you; I didn't get your first name?"

"Blake," he replied, his voice sounded slighter deeper, and had been twisted to give a North American accent, "Blake Wolf, Mr. Potter," Sirius held his hand out for a moment, and Harry grinned. Harry managed to catch the Goblin's eye and gave him a significant nod. Griphook bowed, and the trio took their leave by Floo.

"Well Mr. Wolf," said Harry as he took the outstretched hand, "I trust we can keep this secret." There was a flash, near blinding as Harry maintained a firm grip on his Godfather's hand. When the flare subsided, only two people in the room knew who Mr. Wolf really was: The Secret Keepers of the modified Fidelius charm: Sirius Black and Harry Potter.

"So, what my gig and the pay like?" said the only American in the room.

Harry grinned, "Well, Mr. Wolf, dueling especially incorporating physical attacks with magical ones. Perhaps healing and Animagus Training." Hermione blinked, and looked around, very bewildered before taking in the sight of the blonde, blue-eyed man. She looked around Sirius was gone. Remus Lupin entered the room, wand in hand, as he sized up the stranger.

"And you are?" the former defense against the dark arts professor asked.

"Blake. Blake Wolf," was the answer, "Newly hired tutor for Mr. Potter," he held out his hand, "I presume you are Remus Lupin?" The two men shook hands. It was a clean handshake: A firm grip, one pumping action and they broke contact with each other. Moony, was clearly on guard, "Harry has told me a great deal about you. As a teacher, and a friend, he holds you in very high regard." Reintroductions were necessary as Harry and Blake revealed the secret of his new identity. The modified Fidelius worked as Griphook had promised, "Goblins have been using this variation of the charm for several centuries," explained Harry. Pragmatically, he did not ask why.

He had set "Project Sanctum" in motion after the dinner with the other Champions and Amelia Bones. With no way to pardon Sirius, it was only a matter of time before he was discovered. Harry would not let the last of his family be hunted like a savage beast. Hermione had questioned the necessity of so drastic an action, "Do we have a choice?" Harry had countered, "With Ron knowing what he knows, I don't see it as a matter of "if" it happens, but "when." It is better this way," he turned to Sirius, "You can tell whoever you want… just be careful who you trust, including Dumbledore." Harry said darkly, "A trial, your memories, a pensieve and you would never have been sent to Azkaban. Dumbledore could have gotten you that trial. He didn't."

Later that night after the rest of the Harry's retinue and the champions had met the new tutor, Harry made sure that Blake was setup in his own suite of rooms, cued to the wards and the Floo; he gave his godfather a hug, and retired to his room, where Hermione was waiting for him. She had learned to read his moods, as he had hers. She had her doubts, but he simply held her close and as she drifted off to sleep, she knew there was no place she would rather be.