17

Chapter 17: XVII

Notes:

Ooh it's already wednesday.

It's actually my birthday today. Woohoo......ooh I'm getting old.

As a gift to myself...or to you, I don't know... Here, just take the chapter!

I hope you like it.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Kakashi felt the lingering effects of chakra exhaustion weighing down his eyelids. The earth jutsu, the clones, the genjutsu, and the Raikiri had cost two-thirds of his chakra, and whatever he had left he was now pouring through his hand into a dying man's throat.

It wasn't the first time he regretted that he had no talent in medical ninjutsu. He knew some basic first aid, but Rin had been their squad medic.

Rin… He tried to shake off his memories of her. That wouldn't help him now. It would only distract him from what he had to do.

Damn it. Desperately he used more of his chakra.

Why had he attacked the way he had? He hadn't known! He should've gathered more intel before blindly barging in and hurting good men and women… Sirius' friends… No wonder the man was angry! If this auror died, there was no way, Sirius would ever forgive him. And why should he? Kakashi would've murdered his friend.

Obito's eye was itching again. It hadn't itched ever since he came to this world. Furiously, he pushed the bandages down to hide it again before he returned to his rudimentary healing. In his head, he tried to think if there was anything in his medkit, that could help in this situation, but he came up empty. So, all he could do was pour more chakra into an irreparably crushed throat.

He knew, there was nothing he could do. If he had Tsunade's skills, sure, he could save him. Surely. But Kakashi didn't have healing hands. His hands could only kill. Kill his enemies…Kill his friends.

Kakashi!

Rin was staring at him. His hand was red with her blood.

"He's my friend! If he dies, I'll never forgive you!"

"I'm sorry," he whispered into his mask.

"I'll hunt you down!"

And he knew Sirius would. He had seen it in his eyes.

In this world, without war, Kakashi could bring only destruction. He'd known this… But he thought he could control himself, pull himself together. Idiot!

Have you learned nothing?

He could feel the life slipping from the body in front of him. He couldn't let him die!

"HELP!" He screamed. His voice was higher than it would normally be, trying to make himself heart. "HELP! There's somebody injured! Please!"

He had to hope that this magic could heal too. And why shouldn't it do that? Sirius had said it could do everything. It was the only chance, Kakashi had left. His own medical ninjutsu was pathetic. His chakra was running lower and lower and he didn't even know if he made it better or worse. The only option he had left, was to hope that magic could heal this man.

He thought it was futile. There was a rational part in his mind – a part that could think logically even in the worst situations – that told him, that the man was lost. Basically already dead. His heart was still beating, weakly, but he wouldn't have gotten any oxygen for minutes now. Kakashi pushed that thought aside, though. Magic! Maybe magic could help.

He yelled for help again.

A sudden rush of memories overcame him. He remembered crawling through a dark and tight tunnel, through wet earth. He remembered dragging a body with him. Then the moldy stench of the sewer system. He remembered collapsing the tunnel. Then quickly carrying Sirius on his back until the distance to the original body became too far. The clone had put Sirius down, patted him on his cheek, and then dissolved the second grey eyes opened, blinking in confusion.

A wave of exhaustion hit Kakashi, then.

Still, the clone's memories were enough of a wake-up call, to smother his rising panic about the fate of the man in front of him. Sirius was safe! It took a weight off his shoulders, and he was able to think more clearly again.

The witch, he remembered. With a burst of chakra, he jolted her awake.

"WHAT?" She yelped with a loud cry. Kakashi jumped at her violent awakening. Confused and disoriented, she looked around. Kakashi hadn't gone through the effort of transforming again, but he was still turned away from her, focusing on the other auror, so she only saw his back.

"Where is Black?" she asked, but then she saw the unconscious, dying auror. "Is that… Merlin, Alaric!"

"Can you help him?" Kakashi asked moving away when she came crawling towards them.

Tonks' hands feebly moved over her colleague's body. "I don't…"

Kakashi felt sympathy for her – he knew how it was to lose his comrade – but he needed her to focus.

"Can you use magic to heal him?" he asked more forcefully.

Tonks didn't even look at him. She started frantically searching her pockets. Kakashi knew what she was searching for before she asked. He knelt to pick up her wand that was stuck under Gibson's thigh. He held it out for her to take.

"Where is my—" She saw the wand. "Ah thank you." She dragged her hands through her hair, then she pointed the tip of her wand at the auror and whispered something in a language that wasn't English.

A blue beam of light shot out from her wand and hit the auror's chest area. Kakashi didn't know if it was doing anything. Nothing seemed to change for Kakashi.

"We need help," Tonks said. "Get help—" She stopped and half-turned to him. "Who are you?" But Kakashi was already gone.

Outside, he was about to turn into the minister – one final transformation – to call for help, when he heard steps trample down the stairs. He quickly hid, before he was seen.

"Bloody hell, what happened here?" Somebody yelled out, as they found the two aurors Kakashi had dropped earlier. He didn't think any of them had died from his attack. "Quick! Call the healers!"

"Check for Black!" he heard the minister's hysteric voice. "I will not let Black escape again!"

A group of three people rushed past Kakashi, wands raised. They burst through the door into the cellblock.

"He's gone," one said. "Where the fuck did he go?"

"Tonks!" another yelled out. "What happ—Is that Alaric?"

"We need somebody down here. Alaric is injured!" A witch screamed back into the corridor.

"Where is Black?" he heard the Minister ask, still with the two unconscious aurors. "Is Black still—"

"He's gone, Fudge. Almost killed Gibson. We need to hurry." The witch responded.

Kakashi chewed on his lip. They thought Sirius had done that. He'd just wanted to help Sirius. Instead, he had very likely killed Sirius' friend and made the ministry think, he'd committed the murder.

He balled his fists. He felt Obito's eye itching. He had to get out of here.

Kakashi didn't dare tunnel through to the surface again. He had managed to get in that way, and the clone had fled with Sirius using the same method undetected. They knew he had physically broken through the wall, but as he listened in on them, he heard, that they weren't at all sure how he had done that. The idea, that somebody might have dug a tunnel all the way from the surface, didn't really come to them. Instead, they threw around theories about 'apparating' just outside the magical barrier into a pocket of soft earth or maybe a prepared cave and then exploding through the walls.

Kakashi realized both that he likely wouldn't be able to do that again if he had to break into the ministry a second time – as they were already talking about updating their wards – and that he'd have to find a different way to escape. The fact that they didn't even consider the idea that somebody had dug a tunnel, meant they wouldn't figure out, that Sirius Black had fled over the London sewer system. If Kakashi used the same method to flee, he risked just one more opportunity for them to figure it out.

So instead, he stayed in the ministry for hours, until it was 7 am in the morning and the ministry employees came to work. In the sudden rush of people, it was surprisingly easy to escape. The process of stepping into a burning furnace with the writing 'visitor's exit' above was still rather unsettling.

He found himself back in the phonebooth, thoroughly confused. Somebody was knocking at the dirty and cracked glass.

"Hurry a little, boy. You're not the only one with an appointment." He stared at a woman with a striped pajama shirt, and sunglasses.

Why was she wearing pajamas and sunglasses at 7 in the morning? The sun hadn't really gone up yet. Shaking his head about the witch's odd fashion sense, he exited the telephone booth and quickly left for the Leaky Caldron.

He snuck back into his room through the window and fell on his bed tiredly. Chakra exhaustion was dragging him down. He wasn't quite at his limit, but close enough, and hiding for hours in an unknown place from wizards with unknown powers had been tiring as well, even if he hadn't used a lot of chakra, then.

Hopefully, the auror would be okay, he thought, just as he slipped into restless sleep.

**

Harry ate breakfast at nine. Tom was scurrying around him, asking him if he needed more eggs, bacon, butterbeer, pumpkin juice, apples…

Harry knew he was famous, so he wasn't really surprised, nor was it the first time that people were doting on him like that, but he never liked it. Never mind that having to go from being treated as a disliked and unwelcome servant in Privet Drive, to the famous, very much welcome, and admired Boy Who Lived was still a jarring experience for him. He would never get used to that he knew. Why couldn't people just treat him like a normal boy?

"Toast?" Tom asked lifting a basket of bread in his face. Harry shook his head irritated. "Olives? Fried doxy legs?"

Ugh…

"No, thanks." He pushed the plate with the fried doxy legs away. "I have everything." Demonstratively he picked up a big spoon full of beans and shoved it in his mouth. "Yumm," he hummed even though they tasted slightly gooey.

Tom limped away but Harry had no doubt, he'd be back in a few minutes, offering Dragon Tongue Sausage and Grindeloh-Blood-Soup…or some inedible thing like that. Harry quickly shoveled the rest of his mundane English beans and egg with bacon and toast in his mouth and left back to his room before Tom would inevitably ruin his apatite with some of his exotic magical specialties.

He longingly thought back to the last few days of last year's summer holidays. His best friend, Ron, and his brothers had rescued him from the Dursleys, and he had spent the rest of the holidays with the Weasleys. Molly's cooking had been amazing. Of course, she had also doted on him, but it was different from Tom's doting. Molly had treated him like her own son. A way too thin and underfed son – granted – who needed to add at least five pounds in fewer days, so she felt satisfied that he would survive the journey to Hogwarts without dying of hunger… but still. He'd rather liked it, even if he'd been embarrassed. Harry never had a mother, and he thought that was how it would feel.

As he opened the door to room 11, he brushed the memory aside. There was no point longing for what he couldn't have now. Instead, he should enjoy what he had. Sure, Tom's doting was a little annoying, but all in all, Harry had every reason to be grateful. This time in the Leaky Cauldron could be fun. After all, he still had almost an entire month to the start of the new school year and no Dursleys around to tell him what to do. From his room, he could look straight down into Diagon Alley and he had three weeks to do whatever he wanted. He didn't get punished, nor expelled from school and so far, he hadn't found Voldemort hiding in his wardrobe to kill him in his sleep.

Actually – now that he reconsidered – this could turn into the time of his life.

He let the door fall shut behind him. Taking a two-step run-up, he dove into the bed. A bit of dust puffed into the air and the coverings smelled of moths, but the mattress was soft and warm. Harry giggled and listened. In Privet Drive Vernon or Petunia would burst into his room just about now, to ask him about the ruckus he was creating in the morning. Instead, all he heard was the noise of businesses opening down in Diagon Alley, and a kid crying in a room above him somewhere.

Lazily he turned on his back and watched the cobwebs over the bed. He couldn't find many spiders, but the entire ceiling was covered. A few flies were stuck there long dead.

Eventually, with a loud sigh, Harry raised himself again, to unpack his suitcase. He had started with that during the night already, but then he'd become tired and left most of the clothes just strewn around. He wanted to put them into the wardrobe, but he found a giant spider there. Harry wasn't Ron. He wasn't afraid of spiders, but this one was almost as big as his elbow. He didn't fancy having to look at it, every time he opened the wardrobe, so he put his clothes back in the trunk and tied one of his red and gold Gryffindor scarfs around the handles of the wardrobe to make sure, the spider couldn't push the door open and get out in his sleep. He also made sure to tightly shut his trunk again. He had no desire for any of the vermin to crawl into it.

He was distracted by the sound of something knocking against glass.

"Hedwig!" He cried out happily. He had worried if she would find him here, but of course, Hedwig was a smart owl. "I've missed you." He opened the window, then set up the birdcage on the side of his desk and opened it for Hedwig to enter. The great snowy owl hooted, poked at the bars, and then sat on the perch with a haughty little nod of her head. "Here." He fed her some owl treats.

Oh right.

He had almost forgotten Charlie's odd visit that night. Did he still want to ask the minister about getting to Hogwarts? Probably, Harry thought. It would be pretty great, to have a Hogwarts friend living so close to him. Horley really wasn't far away. And as for Charlie…

Well, no wonder he really wanted to go to Hogwarts. It was the best that had ever happened to Harry, and in this case, that wasn't just because his time with the Dursleys was horror. He knew for a fact, that even kids from nice families looked forward to getting to Hogwarts. Hermione was a muggleborn witch like Charlie, and she loved Hogwarts. Then again… Hermione was Hermione and Hogwarts was, well, a school. Of course, Hermione loved it.

Hedwig still looked a little tired from a long flight. He wanted to give her at least an hour or so to rest, but he could still tell Charlie that she was back.

"I'll be right back," he told Hedwig. "Rest a little. I might need you later." He took his keys and left his room.

Fudge said, Charlie would be in room 14. That was just opposite his room, with the window out towards muggle London.

Harry knocked. Charlie might still be asleep, Harry mused. He hadn't seen him at breakfast. Then again it was already past ten. When there was no response from the inside, Harry testily put his hand against the handle.

Surprised, he realized that the door was open.

"It's me: Harry," he announced himself as he came in. "I come in." Harry didn't feel bad about bursting in. After all, Charlie had done that too – and maybe sharing a dorm room with four other boys had made Harry a little apathetic against such intrusions of privacy. Who knew… If Charlie was put into Gryffindor, they might share a room as well. He seemed about his age.

Harry stepped into the room, but then he stopped short. It was empty. Confused he looked around. The bed looked used, but that aside, there was no sign of anybody living in the room. He couldn't even find Charlie's shoes anywhere. The room was a bit smaller than his own, and there was no big wardrobe – though admittedly Harry could've forgone the wardrobe and the giant spider in it, as well. The window was open, and the curtains blowing softly in the wind.

"Mah…" A sigh came from behind the door, then Charlie slouched out of his hideout. If he had meant to surprise Harry, he was doing a bad job. His shuffling steps and the loud sigh made it obvious where he was before he showed himself.

Charlie scratched the back of his head, disheveling his brown hair in a way that it looked almost as wild as Harry's own. He was fully dressed, even with shoes, wearing the same hoodie he had worn the day before. His mattress creaked as he sat down on it.

Harry looked behind the door, to see what Charlie had been doing there – if he clearly hadn't meant to give Harry a scare – but there was nothing there. Just the blank wall and the same cobwebs he could find in his own room.

"What were you doing there?" Harry asked.

Charlie shrugged with one shoulder. He didn't answer. Harry let it pass.

"Anyway, do you still want to write to the ministry? Hedwig," Harry interrupted himself, "uh… you know, my owl? I told you."

He waited for a reply, but Charlie just looked at him with a blank stare. He looked tired, Harry thought. Harry couldn't really place how he knew that the other boy was tired. There were no bags under his eyes, but he still looked exhausted. The way he had slouched as he moved, the shuffling steps… His eyes were drooping a little. Well, it had been past midnight when Charlie burst into his room that night… Then again, it wasn't exactly early morning.

"Anyway, my owl is back now. So, if you want to write that letter…" He was about to just leave again. The way Charlie stared at him was unsettling. Yesterday, they had gotten along just fine, but now Harry wasn't so sure if he wanted to be friends with this guy. He was almost a bit creepy. "Uhm… Hedwig needs to rest now, but, just…tell me, if you…"

"Do you have something to write?" Charlie asked.

Harry sputtered when the boy finally spoke. He was immediately relieved. Having to lead the conversation all on his own wasn't his forte. "Yes, of course, just…" He turned towards his own room and was surprised when Charlie stood up and followed him. "You can just wait…" he stopped when he caught the other boy's eyes. "Never mind, just… you can write the letter in my room, I guess." Charlie gave a slow nod.

Harry nodded as well, not knowing what else to do. There was just something about Charlie. He didn't speak much. First Harry had thought that it was because of the accent, that he might not feel comfortable speaking English – or wasn't very good at English – but something told him, that wasn't the reason for Charlie's silence. He seemed lazy, every step he took exuded an overt laziness – from the slouch to his slow drawl to the droopy eyes – yet something told him the other boy watched every step he made.

He opened the door to his room and stepped aside to let Charlie in. "Okay, come in. Um, the desk is over there, let me just…" He hurried to his suitcase and picked out a quill, ink, and a piece of parchment. He hesitated. "You know how to use that?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Harry hadn't worked with quills ever, before coming to Hogwarts. He'd left a right mess on most of his homework for the first semester. Professor Snape had dutifully subtracted points from all his work just for that, even when he had Hermione check it over to make sure it was correct.

Charlie gave him a considering look, but then he nodded.

"Oh, great." Harry handed the stuff over. "I didn't when I first got to Hogwarts." He laughed embarrassed. "I still prefer pens." He made a gesture as if holding a pen. "They are just more convenient, you know?"

He had the odd sense that Charlie thought, he talked too much, but Charlie never said anything, and Harry felt like he had to fill the silence. Instead of complaining about Harry's monologue, Charlie dipped the tip into the inkwell and…hesitated.

Harry could sympathize. He wouldn't know how to start a letter to the ministry. He still wasn't even used to writing to his friends, and always fretted over the lines. Writing to the ministry… "I'll just leave you to it," Harry said. "Take your time."

He sat on his bed and picked up one of his old history of magic books. Those he thought, were the most interesting. Shame, that Professor Binns regularly made him fall asleep during class. He didn't remember anything from last year and still didn't know how he had passed the test.

After reading about the Goblin Wars for a quarter of an hour, he looked up to see if Charlie had written anything. He found the boy looking at him.

"Are you done?" he asked standing up, but already as soon as he stood and could see the parchment in front of Charlie, he realized the boy hadn't even written a word yet. Harry frowned confused.

"You didn't write anything yet?" He shook his head. "Just start with 'Dear Minister Fudge' if you really want to write to the minister himself. Or maybe 'Dear Sir or Madam' if you want to keep it more…vague." He shrugged.

Charlie nodded as if he had only waited for that information. He turned towards his parchment, dipped the quill into the ink, and started writing. Harry looked over his shoulders. He still doubted Charlie's skill with the quill. But, as the other boy put the tip down for the first letter, Harry was stunned. The script was neat and tidy, leaving no unwanted spots or smears. Even more than that, Kakashi had an almost artistic way of using the quill. He seemed to make conscious decisions about when to make broader strokes and when to make the lines as thin as hair.

Harry was a little jealous, but at least he understood now, how the boy had learned to write with a quill.

"Could've told me you're taking calligraphy classes," Harry muttered. "I really embarrassed myself when I doubted your skill, huh?" He followed each stroke of the quill with fascination. Something was odd though. The writing looked like the font was copied from a regular newspaper. Neat, tidy, each letter the same height. "Do you write in Times New Roman?" Harry laughed.

"What?" Charlie asked with a confused frown.

"Never mind, it's just funny. You're like a typewriter. Anyway, you made a mistake there." He pointed at Charlie's first word.

Normally, he wouldn't bother pointing out spelling mistakes, but it would be embarrassing for all parties involved if Charlie sent a letter to the Minister, and the very first word was already misspelled. Charlie looked at where Harry was pointing, but he didn't seem to find the issue. Harry frowned worriedly.

"Dear," he explained. "It's written with EA, not with EE. Deer, with EE is an animal." Charlie looked at him blankly. "Like a stag." There was still no recognition in his eyes. Harry put his hand over his head to form antlers. "Forest animals with antlers, you know?"

"Ah," Charlie finally understood. He quickly dipped the quill into the ink and then to Harry's utter shock, he sketched out a stag on the parchment. It was a simple sketch, without any shadows or anything, but it looked great. Charlie hit the proportions spot on. Each stroke with the quill was certain and confident. With a quill, no less.

"Wow," Harry was stunned. "That's awesome. You're really good. Yes, that's a stag." He took the drawing from Charlie. "Can I keep that?" He didn't really expect Charlie to agree. It was a great drawing, and to Harry, it immediately seemed valuable. He could never draw something like that. But Charlie only gave a casual shrug.

He took a fresh parchment and started again. 'Dear Minister Fudge'. This time he wrote it correctly.

"Comma," Harry said. However, this simple word seemed to throw Kakashi off completely. Didn't he know what a comma was? "You know," Harry said, he made a quick motion as if writing a comma.

Charlie understood immediately. He put the comma down where it belonged. Clearly, he had seen commas before. Did he just not know the word, then?

"Where are you from?" Harry asked, because now he was increasingly certain, that the accent wasn't just an odd manner of speech. Charlie must have grown up somewhere else. He clearly could write and knew the letters and knew how to hold a quill, but he obviously never wrote anything in English before.

Just a few minutes ago, Harry had been jealous at the neat writing style, thinking of how Snape wouldn't distract any points from him for 'untidy scrawling'. However, Harry was very certain, that Snape would subtract points for bad spelling.

"Horley," Charlie answered automatically.

"No, I mean before that. Before you came to Horley? What kind of accent is that? I've never heard it before."

Charlie was just about to answer. Then he stopped himself and smiled mysteriously. "Take a guess."

Harry was surprised, but he took it as a good challenge. He thought for a moment. "Well, I don't think it's an English dialect," he started, because if it was just a dialect, that wouldn't excuse Charlie's bad spelling. "So not Australia, or America, Canada or New Zealand. And I've never heard it before. So, I don't think it's an Indian, German, French or Russian accent."

Charlie was watching him closely as Harry thought out loud. Almost as if he was learning something new from everything Harry said. It was funny, Harry thought, to have somebody listen so closely.

"Your name is Charlie Major, though." He scratched his head. "That's a pretty English name. I'm thinking, maybe a former colony?" Charlie hesitated as if he had to think about this too. Then he gave a lazy nod. "But you're pretty… well, pasty." He indicated his own skin. Former colony with many white people still living there with English names, who don't necessarily grow up with English as their first language and an accent that Harry didn't know? Harry shrugged. "South Africa?"

"Not bad," Charlie smiled.

"Am I right? South Africa? That's pretty cool! From where there?"

Charlie apparently hadn't expected the question. He took a long time to answer as if he had to think about it. "Johannesburg," he finally said.

"Oh wow," Harry who had never been outside the United Kingdom exclaimed. "That's pretty cool. But it's huge, isn't it? Did you like it there?"

"I don't like to talk about it," Charlie said immediately.

Disappointed, Harry wiped the grin off his face. Apparently, Charlie had made bad experiences back home. Harry still would have like to know more. Then again, he didn't know what had happened. He wouldn't want to tell somebody he barely knew about his parents either.

Of course, in Harry's case, there was no need to tell anybody. They all knew anyway. The thought made him feel bitter.

"So, you and your parents moved from Johannesburg to Horley of all places?" He asked to change the topic. "That must be boring." Granted, Horley wasn't far from London. But still… Johannesburg to Horley sounded like a massive downgrade.

"Just me," Charlie replied.

Harry sputtered. "Just you? What do you mean just you? You live alone? But you have to live with somebody. Never mind why would you move to a different continent all alone. How old are you?"

"Fourteen," Charlie answered after a while, completely ignoring all the other questions.

"Fourteen," Harry repeated. "Yeah, that sounds about right. You're just a kid. Why do you live alone?"

Charlie scowled. "Things happened. I really need to write this letter."

Again, one of the things he didn't want to talk about, Harry guessed. Harry felt like navigating a minefield. He sighed. "Do you want me to write it? You could dictate it to me. But—"

Charlie immediately jumped up, pressing the quill into Harry's hands.

"But," Harry continued a little irritated catching the quill, "I don't have such a nice handwriting."

"Doesn't matter." Charlie smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Dear Minister Fudge," he started and Harry in his blotchy writing hurried to keep up, "this is Harry Potter writing to you—"

"Harry Potter?" Harry asked with a somewhat angry frown. "Why make it about me, suddenly?"

"Well, you're writing," Charlie said like a smartass, "aren't you? I mean wouldn't it be a lie, if you wrote to the Minister that you were me?"

It would be a logical argument if Charlie weren't dictating every word to him. Harry was just writing down Charlie's words. He wanted to argue the point but was distracted when Charlie pointed at the parchment, where Harry had already written down his first name before had even noticed where it was going.

"And you already wrote it anyway. I'd hate to start all over again."

Harry sighed. He knew exactly that Charlie only used his name because the minister would be more inclined to listen to Harry Potter. Then again, Harry had no problem helping his new friend.

View it as a thank you for the stag-drawing, he thought.

"Alright…" He continued writing.

Notes:

I realized that when I write Harry and Kakashi together, I apparently take a lot of inspiration on the more mischievous adult Kakashi... You know, the one who mooches off Yamato, to make him pay the bill. Who's always late and gives bad excuses for his tardiness... You'll see that in the upcoming chapters.

I think part of it is, that with Sirius - because he didn't know he was a human for quite a long time - he let his guard down early on. With Harry, he doesn't do that... This fun and careless 'let's make Harry write my letter, so the minister will actually read it'-Kakashi is mostly a facade, after all. It's in canon too, I think. It's part of his kind of cool, kind of aloof, kind of mysterious and secretive and keeping everybody at a distance-mask. There wasn't really a point for him to 'change' how he acted around Sirius, after Sirius already got to meet the real Kakashi. With Harry, he knows he's a person from the start, so he wouldn't open up so easily.

(PS. Yes, Kakashi was very much on edge and ready to kill whoever came running into his room until he realized it was Harry. Also, those of you who feared that Kakashi's clone would just up and vanish without explaining anything to poor old Sirius... congratulations, you were right of course.)