That Son of a B****

Harry arrived on the front porch of the cottage with his party in tow. The ragged breaths of the scraggy body attached to his made him realise that the journey had most likely woken him up from the blessed peace of unconsciousness and gave his next actions a certain sense of urgency. He could not, under any circumstances allow the man to die. Not on his watch.

Not again.

Flicking his wand he untied the rope and grasped Sirius by the shoulders. He had just managed to drag him for a few meters before his strength failed him. Wishing he could use magic to lift his godfather but knowing the excess magic even if it was in such a minute form could very well cause Sirius' almost depleted core to collapse, he paused to take a breather. A while passed before he continued with a renewed effort as he managed to drag his godfather to the couch at the centre of the room just behind the entry foyer. Heaving because of the struggle, he took a look at the man's frame. Sirius' gaunt face was the first thing that grabbed his attention. The sunken grey eyes were barely open. His skin, almost glued to his bones. The croaking noises coming from his throat were another sign of the debilitating effects of his life while living at the tender mercies of the Azkaban guards.

He had only functional knowledge of medical treatments for most magical maladies but what had managed to burrow in his mind were the various imperatives that were required to be followed whilst treating a patient. Everything that he had done yet was in accordance with all those battlefield lessons he had been able to grasp. With that in mind, he decided to do a tally.

'No external magic indulgence – Check. Breathing obstruction…' He took his fingers and lightly pressed them on Sirius' lower ribcage.. 'Yes, a partially collapsed lung. I can't make him lucid now. It's likely his body will go into shock, never mind what could happen to his core.'

He knew what to do. He had known ever since he brought Sirius back to the cottage. He neither had the resources nor the expertise to deal with the dementor exposure of this magnitude. The only solution, for now, was to put Sirius' body in stasis either by a magically induced coma, which had a complicated procedure of its own or by making him ingest the one thing that he had a dire need of for the next stage of his plan. The Draught of Living Death. The Unspeakables' safe-house had been a treasure trove of essentials required by their operatives in the field. And since he was, at least in principle doing what they stood for, he had no qualms about borrowing some of the stuff that had been available. He currently had just a single dose of the potion and it's restorative which was paramount in an undertaking that could very well make his work easier in the long run.

Had Harry not been a leader who had seen more than his share of death or someone who hadn't had to shed his blood every single time he had to get his people the most basest of things to save their lives, he likely wouldn't have thought much about the matter. But, he had, in fact, seen the reality of war, had seen the struggles of humanity for even the simplest of things. And thus, he knew the value of resources at hand. They wouldn't have survived for as long as they did if they had not been careful with their rations much less with their medical supplies.

But the lure of the family was one thing he had never been able to resist. To see the last remnants of his family struggling to even breathe was something he could not bear to see. There was no greater good. Not when it took the blood of your family to achieve it. With a snap decision, he brisked his pace towards the cabinet in the kitchen to find the potion required. Shaking the liquid potion within the flask vigorously, he checked its colour to determine the age. Seeing everything in order, he lifted Sirius' head upwards and dropped seven drops of the liquid into his mouth while massaging his throat with his small fingers.

It took exactly three minutes for Sirius' breathing rate to become lower than normal, a sign of potion working its way through the body in an expectant manner. Hearing no more croaking from his godfather's mouth, he sighed. Things were getting more complicated by the hour. He had to get them back on track. He reached behind the still drugged body of his godfather and surreptitiously pocketed a lock of his hair. For things to reach equilibrium once more, a little give-and-take was needed.

Intending to do exactly that, he strode towards the main door to gather the first party for the exchange.

-x-x-x-x-x-

(At the same time when Harry was in Terance's Drama Company gathering his 'forces').

Seventeen minutes. That is how long he had been listening to the taunts and jeers of his gathered Fidus Achates as they bickered and shouted like tenderfoot children. He had tried to explain his reasoning or at least, the reasoning he had thought best to share with them. He had even gone further past his usual Modulus Operandi and had explained why the things that had happened had to happen the way they did. While he couldn't explain to them that he had bungled in his duty to save their prophesied saviour, he could and had, verified the news of his non-existence from the beginning hoping to calm their fraught nerves. It hadn't been enough. He wasn't very surprised. It was a huge pill to swallow. To believe a truth that had been posted as an absolute for years and only to learn that the truth had been nothing but a well-manicured lie…it was something that had the capacity to ruin much. But what he was most worried about at the moment was the capacity of this truth to destroy one thing that mattered much to him in these moments.

Their belief in him.

He had spent decades building his image to show himself as a sagacious and well-meaning old warlock who had power in spades and had the brains and control to use it, that too, under deserving circumstances. When he spoke, people listened. This was to be his legacy. His Guernica, if you will. And presently, everything he had worked so hard for, was about to slip through his fingers just because of a single competent Death Eater that he had missed.

He had spent long hours both inside and outside of his pensieve trying to identify the voice he had heard in Arabella's memories. It had felt familiar at first and he had been sure that he had, in fact, heard the voice before. But as he listened to it more and more, the memory where he had heard the voice seemed to elude him further and further. It was as if the memory itself had been siphoned from his mind and just the basic knowledge of its existence had been left. After the events of the night when number four had burned down, he had gone back to suss out anything that had not been contaminated by the muggle police and fire department. One of the few things that were still boggling his mind was how the man had known where Harry had lived? He himself had never divulged the exact location of his residence to anyone in the ministry. Even the monitoring devices that the ministry was so fond of installing had been situated there because he had personally altered the ministry records to show that the area around little whinging was occupied by several other magicals including a handful of muggleborns. None could have gained the knowledge of Harry's whereabouts from the Ministerial records. Another thing had caused him more than a little concern was that if by some method that still escaped him, the death eater had been successful in finding Harry's home, how had he crossed the blood wards he himself had erected on the residence.

At least it had boggled him until he had talked to Arabella Figg again.

The memories she had had of the Dursleys abusing the boy had been numerous. The various ways the poor boy had been mishandled belayed counting. She had informed him of some of the circumstances regarding his treatment of the boy and he had watched them for an evening or so. He had seen the boy do menial chores and such but hadn't actually seen his aunt lay a finger on him. Deciding that the chores and work would only cause to make the boy humble and hardworking, he had let the matter be. He hadn't even given much thought to Arabella's further correspondence after that when it had contained within it the subject matter of how the boy was being treated, which had been getting fewer and fewer anyway. Though after seeing her memories, he had known the reason for the failed blood wards. Magic was its most basic sense was a witch or wizard's intent that they and only they had the power to give life and meaning. The boy, ever since he had gained understanding, had known nothing but disdain, contempt and scorn. The ones who had been responsible for giving him the love he deserved hated him for something he didn't even have the knowledge of. The feelings of pain and betrayal he'd have felt must have compounded on the strain the wards were already under.x

The blood wards he had erected around the property had been, in the strictest sense, created for the protection of a family closely related by blood. While Pitunea had sufficed as a blood-relation, her relation to Harry was somewhat stretching the terms of the requirements of the wards. The strain on the wards must have been building for quite some time and the night the death eater arrived on the property there mustn't have been enough magic left within it to prevent the attacker from doing harm. It explained much of what had happened and especially how it had happened. The Dursleys had been reported missing and nothing could be salvaged from the charred house. The only thing that was still bothering him was the coincidence of it all. But perhaps, it had been fated. Much of the boy's life had been decided by fate, why would his death be anything different?

It had taken much of his vaunted patience to explain just a smidgen of this to the Minister and much more to make the diversions they had, to keep the public from losing hope. He sincerely believed that had Harry had still been among the living and had realised the magnitude of the situation, he would have understood. Would have even appreciated the decisions he had to make perhaps. It was fortunate thus, that the number of people who had been in the know could be counted on a single hand. There had been some complications at first as could be said with any tale that had the propensity to have a multitude of effects all directed towards a goal that was, in fact, a fiction. And with Madame Bones being the head of DMLE, it was difficult to skirt around the edges of the story and relay to her the basics all in the name of a secret operation, the news of which hadn't travelled farther than just his and minister's ears. Dumbledore had reigned her in when he had stated quite firmly that the only reason she hadn't been kept in the loop was because of her own department was one of the places that were being investigated. She had bit her tongue then, but complied. Some of the things had still managed to bungle themselves up when he wasn't looking. Malfoy being named as one being involved in the operation had been something that, while expected from the Minister, had done some damage to his plans. He had had to ignore it though. Especially considering that it would have been nigh on impossible to prove his absence from an investigation that hadn't actually happened. In spite of all the headaches that it had caused, it had brought with itself, a ray of hope which at first had disguised itself as the warning of something much more sinister.

The prophecy.

It had gone dark. The singular reason for a prophecy orb to go dark was its turn from being in-play to having reached its conclusion.

At first, he had been afraid that in spite of his calculations, all the machinations, his deduction about it had been incorrect from the very beginning. But then, a thought had struck. What if, the whole reason for the boy to live till now was to provide him with sufficient time? Time to understand the reasons for the Voldemort's continued existence, which he was close enough to unravel? The boy had already vanquished the Dark Lord, had he not? And the Dark Lord had in fact, marked the boy himself. What if the true purpose for the boy to live thus far was to die? The prophecy had stated that neither of them could live while the other survived. Which meant that only they themselves were capable of killing each other. Now that the boy was dead, perhaps it was possible to end Tom once and for all. Perhaps, it was a chance for the light to, at last, banish the dark.

The thought did much to calm his still disquiet mind even as he chanced a look towards his still rowing companions. But knowing the time to be limited for what he had planned, he interrupted their arguments simply by standing up from his chair and looking quietly at them. Such was his respect among them even now, that as soon as they spotted him, every single person in the room stilled. When he was sure he had projected enough of his disappointment in their midst, he spoke his thoughts.

"I understand that many things have happened in a small frame of time that has caused you much worry over the state of affairs in our country. It is, as I said before, understandable. I even sympathise with your situation and hold myself accountable for everything that I saw cause to happen. It was, in hindsight, a poor decision on my part to keep this from you. The only thing I have to say in my defence is that I had only thought to keep each and every one of you safe from the oncoming conflict. As it was, there were seventeen casualties as the result of the operation and those included eleven Hit-Wizards that the ministry had hired. As much confidence as I have in your skills, I hope you can understand why I did what I did. Any capable agent of the dark could have and would have broken the sanctity of your mind to gather the information that was up until last week crucial and that is to say nothing of what could have happened to you in the battlefield itself. Now, I know we have a lot of grievances to settle between us and all of you are probably still upset with me. But I have been summoned to the ministry this evening and as such, this decision would have to be, as they say, shelved. We will be having another meeting soon to discuss how we will proceed now that we have a reprieve from the growing darkness. We can even…" He was interrupted by a gruff voice.

"What about the boy, Albus?" Alastor Moody asked standing up from where he had been resting his leg.

"The boy, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked quizzically.

"The boy who impersonated Potter. There have been many among us who had met the boy previously. Diggle here has even shaken hands with the boy. Who was he then?"

"Ah! A valid enquiry, old friend. One that I believe you will able to answer yourself. Do you remember the Cuthberts family? It was you who caught the case if my memory serves me."

"Yes, but I don't see…" Moody's eyes widened suddenly as he realised what the statement could have meant.

"Hmm. You see, when Mr Cuthbert was brutally tortured and murdered, there was no evidence to point us towards who could have carried out such a crime. We all knew who it likely was, but there was nothing to prove us right. Mrs Cuthbert was with child at the time. She never really forgot what happened to her husband. When all this was being structured a mere week after Voldemort had been defeated, the Minister's office came up with an idea of using an implant for impersonating the recently deceased babe, Harry Potter. That is how Mrs Cuthbert was approached and asked for her participation. She realised the magnitude of what they were asking her to do but to see her husband's killer apprehended, she did what was necessary. She allowed her year-old son to be given to the Dursleys even as she lived a few houses over to see him. After the events of last week, she agreed for herself and her son to be obliviated of anything and everything that she had done during this period and since then they have been provided new identities to start their life anew somewhere else. As far as I know, she isn't even in Briton anymore." Dumbledore explained as he looked at his old friend over his glasses.

"Hunh! I am surprised you agreed to it though," remarked the grizzled Auror eyeing Dumbledore with a rare look of incredulity.

"I had not been consulted before they decided to take action, Alastor. And when I did find out, it was already too late to prevent it. Any deviation from the proposed plan could have alerted the same people we wished to apprehend. As it was, there were plenty of attempts on the boy's life." Seeing the crowd was silent and contemplating, he moved towards the exit.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have kept the Minister waiting for long enough. I will notify you all when we will be conducting the next meeting. Good Evening." With that, he departed for the ministry, leaving behind a crowd of strangely pensive magicals.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Dumbledore arrived at the Minister's office to hear the tail end of an argument between the newly promoted Senior Undersecretary and the Auror guard assigned to the office.

"…when were you planning on leaving then? It has been three hours since they last reported. Leave now and report back within the hour!" Madam Umbridge whispered harshly to the Aurors who were standing there shuffling nervously.

"Yes, Madam Umbridge." Robards, the head of the Auror guard snapped a quick salute and ran towards the apparition spot with his team in tow.

Seeing something amiss, Dumbledore turned towards her and asked in a gentle voice, "Any problem Madam Undersecretary? I noticed you were quite short with your staff."

"Nothing you can help with Dumbledore. And as I recall, we were to meet at half-past six. It's near seven now. Minister's time is just as important as yours. Do take note of that Chief Warlock." Umbridge snarked.

"Of course. Of course. I shall keep it in mind. I had a query though. The Aurors you have currently sent, am I to assume they are currently heading towards their team members who were assigned for the task we discussed?"

"Yes. And as discussed, we have compiled a list of possible prisoners that we can say were the ones who died if this ever becomes public knowledge. Not that it would, but minister thought it would be prudent to cover all our basics just in case."

"Hmm. Excellent! Is he available at the moment? I had somethings to discuss with him while we wait for other news to arrive." Umbridge tried to say that he wasn't but Dumbledore walked past her even as he was finishing his query. With a scowl on her face, she followed. She didn't trust the old bastard to not hurt the Minister. Chief Warlock had planned every single step in this so-called operation after all. She would be stupid not to treat him as a possible threat.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It took him precisely three robberies and a trip back to the cottage before he was satisfied with what he had. There had been a little scare back when the owner of the apothecary had came back early from the emergency Harry had created for the man. Apparently, he couldn't trust the medi-wizards to take their time while they checked his wife from something called Gulping Plimpy fever. A little luck and he had been able to sneak out of the shop after filching the required items.

At the moment he was walking towards the door to the basement room where he kept his other guest. Coming through and watching the still unconscious frame of Stubby Boardman, he brought out his wand to wake the man. It was when the spell took effect, and the man came to, that Harry cloaked himself in inky smoke to shroud himself from him. With a disguised voice, he addressed Boardman.

"Mister Boardman, it appears there won't be any need to keep you here any longer. I have decided to release you. A little precaution is needed, however. I am hoping you will help me in that regard. Yes?" Without waiting for the man to answer or even acknowledge the statement he carried on. "Excellent. Now, all I need you to do is sit still as I give you the answers to some of the questions that hadn't even come to your mind. You remember your dear friend Auror Robards, don't you? From the Minister's office? Yes, he was kind enough to explain some things to me when we happened to meet out of the blue last evening. You see, he had known plenty about your favourite past times. Had, in fact, told your Madam Undersecretary about them when she suggested that you be the one to take Sirius' place. Wonderful man that Robards. Doesn't miss much. Well…not in matters like these. Anyways, We got to chatting that time and when he told me about what it is he had on you that made you agree to their deal, well, colour me impressed Mister Boardman. I have rarely wanted to murder someone as much as I did you at that moment. Nine rapes…two murders. Quite a tally. It is fortunate for you that nobody had caught onto these facts when you were famous, eh? Would have been quite the scandal! Now that we have reached the end of our dalliance there is something that I should tell you. You'd be happy to know that your line will not be ending with you. Miss Catherine Demeure, one of your earlier victims had decided to keep the baby, despite not having any memory of how she'd conceived one. With that news, I believe it is the perfect time to tell you that I have found a perfect solution to both of our problems. I am sure you must be tired of this unwelcomed visit to my humble abode. But first, in case things don't pan out as I have hoped for, and considering that in the current climate I'm not sure it would, a little something is needed."

"What are you going to do to me?" Silence greeted his voice and he grew desperate to communicate with the man who seemed to hold his life in his hands. With a falsely calm demeanour, he tried to reason with the voice. "Hey!… Hey, listen! You can't do this! The whole ministry would be looking for me now. There won't be long before they come here, you know? I won't tell them anything. I haven't even seen your face. Nothing will come of this, I assure you. Just leave me. Please, leave me." Begged the now sobbing man as he pleaded for his life.

"That is correct Mister Boardman. You will not tell them anything. You know why? It simple really. Because there is nothing to tell."

With a dark voice and brutal force, he jabbed his wand to the man's temple and muttered.

"Legilimens."

-x-x-x-x-x-

He arrived with a stunned and morphed Boardman back to the beach he had saved Sirius from, a couple of hours ago. He was mildly elated to see the scene exactly as he had left it. The moronic Aurors were still knocked out and there were enough signs to tell that there had definitely been a struggle.

With quick feet and the levitating body of Boardman by his side, he walked towards the boat. Floating the limply hanging body inside it, he took a few steps back. Stubby had changed quite a lot in a span of the last fifteen minutes. The flowing black hair had turned wild and dirty. His clean-shaven face had suddenly grown a grimy beard. His well-fed body had shrunken to look as if he hadn't had a meal in months. It was perfect. Harry had taken a few notes from an ingenious enemy from his past. He didn't know why but he had never quite forgotten a statement from the old meddler about one of the very few lessons he had given him during the end of his fourth year. Harry had asked the headmaster the reason that nobody had noticed the body of Barty Crouch Junior's mother in Barty's cell even when several hours had passed since she had drawn her last breath. It was one of the very few questions that the headmaster had answered to him without mending his words. The effects of the Polyjuice potion do not wear off if the person dies with the potion in their system. He remembered being fascinated and horrified at the avenues that thought had conjured in his brain. He had had a singular thought then that had given him another bleak idea about the society he had become a part of. 'The Polyjuice potion was a recipe to create a perfect murder.' It was now, that he had gotten the perfect opportunity to implement that knowledge and he had every intention of doing it.

Looking at the body of Boardman now polyjuiced as his godfather, he allowed himself a moment of weakness. It was by choice, that he second-guessed himself, if ever. He hadn't been in a position to do that for quite a while now. But it was times like these when his morality waged war with his rational mind. He knew that leaving Boardman here was probably a death sentence for the former singer. But the fact was, he couldn't feel sympathy for the man. He had wilfully done heinous crimes. While he could do this, the question was… should he?

As he closed his eyes, the screams of his friends bombarded his ears. The bloody visage of the innocents marred his psyche with its heavy imprint. He could not forget. He could not forgive the bastards who had done this. It had been monsters like the man lying at his feet who had taken her away from him? Could he condemn him to death? The answer came easier than he had thought. The understanding of their actions gave way to clarity of his own. If it meant saving everything and everyone he had ever loved, he would happily walk on the graves of monsters like these.

He opened his eyes and his wand dropped into his hand from his sleeves. It was time to set the scene. He didn't want the ministry stooges to wait after all.

A few minutes later, as he was turning around to take a look around anything he might have missed, he heard multiple resounding cracks in the distance. Knowing he couldn't tarry, he was just about to disapparate himself when something caught his eye. The rune stones! The ones he had marked for the anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards, he had forgotten about them. Knowing he didn't have enough time and hoping that the incompetence of the ministry would help him somewhat, he applied a disillusionment charm upon himself and started walking briskly towards the other side of the beach while creating a gust of wind from his wand to mask his footprints. A few hundred meters past, he disapparated back to the cottage.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Gawain Robards cursed as he looked at the two unconscious Aurors of his unit. His only reprieve from a burst blood vessel was the similar state of the only person whose life mattered to him at the moment. Walking forwards he tasked his two companions to wake the great lumps as he walked towards the emaciated lump of mass that was the body of one Sirius Orion black. He could see the bloodstains on the rags he wore. His fingers seemed to be broken too from the looks of it. It looked like Black had tried to run from the morons of his unit when they had reached the shore. He walked towards the now awake morons to find the reason behind their untimely nap schedule. As soon as he reached near enough the Aurors who had been massaging their heads stood up and saluted him, as was proper.

"Cap'n. It's all his bloody fault. He was…" that was how far he got before Robards' knee met his stomach.

Looking at the other Auror who visibly flinched as Robards looked at him, he asked, "Now, what happened?"

"He…he…Black that is, tried to run Cap'n. I grabbed him around the back and he somehow got my wand. When Jones here fired a few spells to stun him, Black turned me around and I don't know what happened after that. I suppose I was knocked out." Explained the Auror nervously.

Turning his eyes towards a still wheezing Auror he arched his brows. It was enough for Jones to start spilling the events that transpired.

"When my spell knocked out Bailey, I tried to bind Black, but he was surprisingly nimble on his feet. He dodged my spell. I swear, Cap'n, he couldn't even move onto the boat properly when we grabbed him from Azkaban. We exchanged some spells and finally seeing him slow down I dove to my side and fired a stunner and I suppose a stray spell must have hit me as well as all I remember after that was being woken up by Auror Birtch here."

Robards looked at the beach and saw the various scorched marks on the boat and arrived at a similar conclusion as the report from his unit member. But being a captain he knew to be thorough. He walked past the Aurors and bent down to Black's body where a wand was lying in the sand. Picking up the wand, he brought out his own and muttered, "Prior Incantato." Seeing the same spells like the ones described by the Auror, he nodded his head, apparently satisfied with the results. Throwing the Auror's wand in his direction and giving him a stern talking to regarding the safety of keeping his wand, Robards moved towards his real task.

It was a shame that such a prominent and proud House was about to die by his hands. Black had done nothing to him personally. They had moved in different circles even back when he had been an Auror. Potter and Black had been their own team. He had nothing against the man. But orders were orders and he was nothing if not loyal to the ministry. Pointing his wand towards the man he did as he was told.

"Incendio." A bright red fire lit Black's whole body as the magical flames ate through the flesh faster than any mundane flames ever could. It took a few minutes but the body that had once belonged to one Sirius Orion Black was reduced to ash.

...

Or so they thought.

-x-x-x-x-x-

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End Notes –

1. Guernica is a world-famous masterpiece, and the one that most people will look at and know it's Picasso's.

2. Dumbledore at this point in time has not been able to identify harry as a Horcrux. He hasn't even found the real proof of their existence yet. All he has are the tampered memories of Slughorn and a book that contained the text involving Horcruxes that a young Tom Riddle had read.

3. This story will have a strangely competent Umbridge and Fudge. They will not be all-knowing and capable of overthrowing many plans that Harry comes up with. But they will have more than the usual amount of intelligence that they were shown to have in the books. Don't fret though, they are still the same racist and short-minded folks we all love to hate :)

4. When Harry says he met Robards. It means he was the one from whom Harry got the information of the Ministry's plans as he ambushed him on his way to the ministry.

5. The search for a cheap-ass domain is now over. I was finally able to get my hands on one. What does this mean for us, you ask?

Well... The website for all my stories and other writing pieces is now up and running.

Please visit "www.neatStuff.in" for all the latest chapters that are posted there a day before. I have put a lot of effort into it. Hope you like it.

And a reminder, the twitter feed is now Live, again. Follow the news at neatstuff5 on twitter. Read the latest updates on the edits, excerpts from the released and unreleased chapters and other tidbits that I will be posting.

Thank You.