They think they know you

Sirius was cackling as he dodged yet again another of Bellatrix’s attempts at cursing him.

 “Come on now, Bella, you can do better than that!” he taunted, challenging his cousin as she continued to send numerous red sparks.

 His wand danced in quick, decisive movements, deflecting her attacks and sending counter-spells hurtling back at her. Bellatrix’s face twisted in furious concentration, her wand hand trembling with the intensity of her assault.

 Sirius did a decent job of blocking them thus far, hastily sending quick glances toward his godson to make sure he was alright. And of course, Harry was holding on greatly on his own—

 Oh, if only James could see his progeny right now. He would be insanely proud of Harry. Sirius knew he already told his godson times and again how proud he would’ve made his parents be, but it never felt enough. He wished to tell him now, or at least, praise his dueling tactic and—

 Wait. . . something was. . . not right.

 He hadn’t been paying attention when Bellatrix managed to strike him. Despite that, she hadn’t used any damaging curses, no, it was just a harmless spell that was meant to give him a gentle nudge. Sirius made the mistake of underestimating the consequence of that spell. With the single step he took backward, he felt a forceful pull weighing him down, making his body curve as he fell. . . and kept falling.

 “No—” The word barely left his lips before he fell. The pull he was being subjected to felt like a magnetic force was sucking his body the way a dementor would sucked one’s happiness. . .

 Instinctively, Sirius turned to look for Harry, his last thought a desperate need to protect his godson. But he could no longer see the godson he was supposed to shelter from danger. In fact, he could no longer see anyone or his surroundings from a moment ago. The Death Eaters, the Department of Mysteries, and the entire world seemed to have disappeared until Sirius found himself alone, falling through an endless abyss.

 Out of habit developed in Azkaban, Sirius slipped into his dog form without giving it a second thought. It felt like second nature to him, to use his ability as an Animagus to help him get rid of the danger approaching. But that only worked to trick the dementors, whatever pulled him to this void was far less sentient to leave room to be fooled.

 The darkness surrounding him seemed alive, shifting and undulating like smoke. Despite the thick, shaggy fur, his Animagus form shivered from the chill. His heightened senses scanned the void for danger, but there was no scent, no sound, nothing but the suffocating quiet.

 Harry needs me.

 He should be with him now, saving him from the Death Eaters. A moment ago, Harry was right there, and the next, everything had evaporated from Sirius’ view. And he was left flouting alone in a void of everlasting darkness.

 Or so he thought.

 When he emerged from the silver light, the scenery that greeted him was a far cry from what he’d been experiencing before falling through the veil. For one, it was quiet here. Too quiet.

 His eyes were more sensitive to receiving light as a dog, which made his night vision better than it was in human form. It helped him adjust quickly to the darkness around him as he padded through the small chamber the void pushed him to.

 Where was he?

 Sirius couldn’t apparate anywhere for the life of him, so there must be apparation wards. He couldn’t detect any exits in the chamber he was in except for the veil, but he knew better than to jump back in. He heard rumors about it, after all. How it was believed to be a gateway to the land of the dead. That was the theory, of course, but Sirius wasn’t about to gamble his life away just because he got lucky to have survived the veil. Not when Harry needed him.

 Sirius did detect an opening space other than the veil. It appeared to be a long, long slide leading down to wherever he was at the moment. He transformed back to his original form to use his wand, trying to see if it were possible to modify the slide and turn it into a flight of stairs.

 The change felt instant and seamless, Sirius thought, as though the slide had always been stairs, and he simply returned it to its original form.

 The walk up the stairs felt endless. Sirius’ thighs had been killing him from the journey up that he was forced to take several breaks to catch his breath before continuing.

 The stairs were relentless. They twisted and turned in ways that made no sense, and the air grew colder with each step. Sirius’s thighs burned, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

 He didn’t know how long he’d been climbing when he finally reached the top, only to be greeted by a solid stone wall.

 “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sirius groaned, collapsing to his knees. He could no longer feel his entire legs from the agony the stairs caused him.

 He stared exasperatedly at the wall meeting him at the very top of the stairs. There had been no exist at all! He might as well be in a cell. A ridiculously large cell with many, many stairs, but a cell, nonetheless. It appeared the only way out was through the veil he came from. Sirius cursed loudly.

 All that effort, all that pain, and there was no way out. He was trapped.

 Sirius pressed his forehead against the cold stone, cursing himself for not choosing to stay near the veil. At least there, he might have had a chance of finding his way back to Harry.

 Then, as if in answer to his despair, the wall began to shift.

 Sirius stumbled back, his eyes widening as the wall started changing. He looked up to see a gigantic door appear from the wall. The view sent him a wave of nostalgia. He was instantly reminded of the good old days when he and James used the cloak late at night to discover the castle’s secret passages before showing their discoveries to Remus for him to add them on their map in-the-making.

 How frustrated had Moony become for not being able to keep the ink from disappearing every time he attempted to draw or mark the location of the Room of Requirement. They all had a go at it, drawing the door, writing a sign, and even just marking the door’s location with an X. But the door was impossible to document. At the end, the Marauders had to accept the sad reality that the Room of Requirement simply didn’t want to be shown on records.

 This door looked like the perfect replica of the one that refused to show on their map. As Sirius kept kneeling while gazing at the door almost wistfully, someone from the other side swung it open.

 “Albus?!” A youthful voice called from the other side. The light from the opened crack forced Sirius to squint his eyes.

 Before Sirius could collect himself, the door opened completely to reveal a pair of unfamiliar faces on the other side.

 “Er, you’re not. . .” The blond boy, who had called Dumbledore’s name earlier spoke hesitantly. Though his soft features hide it, Sirius could tell from the grey eyes that the boy must be a relative of his. He looked like a buttered down version of his cousin’s son.

 “Am I at Hogwarts?” Sirius asked bluntly to which the blonde boy nodded after a deep show of reluctance. “What’re your names?” No answer. “Are you. . . what’s his name. . . Sissy’s kid—Draco?”

 “No,” the boy said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s—uh—it’s Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. And this is Rose Weasley.”

 Sirius chanced a glance at the blonde’s companion, a bushy, red-haired girl who elbowed Scorpius for giving away their names so easily. Despite lacking the Weasley’s complexion of pale skin, she did possess their infamous freckles.

 Sirius frowned. “Weasley?” His mind raced. Since when did Arthur have another daughter?

 Rose and Scorpius exchanged a glance before Rose stepped forward. “Who’re you?”

 “Who am I?” Sirius laughed despite himself. Not the reaction he had expected considering he was still perceived as a mass murderer fugitive. Should he tell them his name? “Take a wild guess, kiddo.”

 The girl had pursed her lips in a very McGonagall-like fashion before she spoke to Scorpius. “We—we need to get Professor Longbottom.”

 Sirius barely registered her words before she dashed off, leaving him alone with Scorpius.

 The boy fidgeted awkwardly, clearly unsure of what to say. Sirius, on the other hand, was confused to say the least. How did he end up in Hogwarts anyway? And how come he had never heard of a Professor Longbottom before? Weren’t the only members left of that family left were Frank’s mother and son?

 When the Longbottom in question eventually arrived, followed by Rose, Sirius’s skepticism only grew. Longbottom—who almost appeared like an older Neville—looked at him with a mix of shock and disbelief.

 “S-Sirius?” Now that was a more suitable reaction. Though the teacher did not attempt to attack or at least disarm Sirius in any way. “Professor McGonagall needs to see this,” the man said quietly, his eyes never leaving Sirius. “You two head to bed. Now.”

 Before Sirius knew what was happening, he was being escorted through the empty halls of Hogwarts, the familiar sights and sounds of the castle stirring a strange mix of nostalgia and unease.

 “I thought you were taking me to see Minnie, why, exactly, are we heading to the headmaster’s office?” Sirius narrowed his eyes at Longbottom—whoever he may be.

 “Well, McGonagall is the headmistress.” Longbottom answered carefully.

 Since when??

 “Ah, good for her.” Sirius said aloofly, masking the growing uncertainty within him.

When Sirius first stepped into McGonagall’s office, his first thought was how little it had changed since Dumbledore’s time, yet how profoundly different it felt. The familiar desk, the roaring fire, and the rows of books were all still there, but the air carried a different authority now. Even the phoenix was gone.

 Sirius barely had a moment to take it all in before the sharp intake of breath drew his attention.

 Minerva McGonagall stood frozen behind her desk, her sharp, discerning gaze fixed on him. For a moment, the ever-composed McGonagall faltered. Her hand clutched at the edge of her desk, and her lips parted in disbelief.

 “Sirius Black,” she said at last, her voice a mixture of shock and skepticism. “How. . .”

 Sirius smirked, though the gesture felt hollow. “Surprised to see me, Professor?”

 McGonagall stepped out from behind her desk, her expression quickly hardening into something more familiar—pragmatic and wary. She narrowed her eyes, her sharp mind clearly working to make sense of the impossible sight before her. “If you truly are Sirius Black, prove it. Where did you first transform into your Animagus form?”

 Sirius blinked, caught off guard by the question. “In the woods, during camping in the holidays. James, Peter, and I were trying to keep Remus company—”

 “That will do,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, though her posture remained guarded. She studied him closely, her sharp eyes scanning his face for any sign of deceit.

 Her tone softened further as she added, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

 Sirius chuckled, the sound strained. “Here I am. Though, I have to admit, seeing you behind Dumbledore’s desk is. . . surreal.” He gestured around the office. “So, Headmistress now, are we? Can’t say I’m surprised. You always did have a knack for keeping everyone in line. It suits you.”

 McGonagall’s lips twitched, but her expression remained serious. “This is no time for pleasantries, Sirius. There’s much to unravel here, and—”

 The knock on the door interrupted her, and her composed demeanor instantly returned. “Come in.”

 The familiar surroundings of McGonagall’s office had brought Sirius a fleeting sense of normalcy, but it vanished the moment the two Unspeakables arrived.

 They stood flanking the doorway, their presence ominous yet deliberate. One, a tall witch with titanium-blonde hair braided down her back, had an air of sharp efficiency. The other, shorter but no less commanding, was a dark-skinned witch whose calm demeanor masked a precise focus. Both were dressed in the understated black robes that marked their trade, with no insignias or details that could betray their identities.

 “Mr. Black,” the blonde said, her tone clipped. “We’re here to escort you.”

 “Escort me where, exactly?” Sirius asked warily, straightening his posture. His wand hand itched, though he kept the weapon lowered.

 “To a more secure location,” replied the dark-skinned witch. Her voice was softer but carried authority.

 Sirius’s gaze flicked toward McGonagall. The Headmistress’ sharp eyes flicked to them, and she inclined her head slightly and merely nodded.  Sirius frowned, glancing between her and the Unspeakables. “Wait—what’s going on? I just got here, and you’re already passing me off?”

 “It’s not my decision,” McGonagall’s voice carried an edge, though her gaze softened slightly as she looked at him. “You’ll get answers soon enough, Sirius. But know this: whatever has brought you back here, it is not something I take lightly.”

 The blonde spoke again, impatience creeping into her voice. “Unspeakable Jones and I will explain further once we’re away from prying ears. Let’s go.”

 Reluctantly, Sirius followed them, though every step felt like he was being led deeper into some trap.

 McGonagall stepped back, her expression unreadable, as Sirius was ushered out of the office.

 The corridor outside McGonagall’s office was eerily silent. Longbottom, who had stayed outside, was now nowhere to be found. Sirius walked between the two Unspeakables, their brisk pace forced him to keep up.

 Sirius glanced over his shoulder at the retreating door before turning his attention to his escorts. “So, do either of you actually plan on telling me what’s going on, or is the silent treatment just part of the job?”

 The blonde didn’t bother to look at him. “Our job, Mr. Black, is to ensure your cooperation and safety. You’ll have answers soon enough.”

 The curt response irritated Sirius, who was unused to being dismissed so easily. “Right. And who exactly are you supposed to be? The Ministry’s finest secret agents?”

 “You could say that,” said the darker-skinned witch, who Sirius realized was Jones. Her lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Though, if I were you, I’d focus on asking questions worth answering.”

 “I suppose you’re right. Am I at least going to get a trail this time around?”

 “You are not convicted of any crime here, Mr. Black,” Unspeakable Jones answered gently.

 Sirius stopped in his tracks, forcing the group to halt as well. “Excuse me?”

 The other Unspeakable that he had yet to know the name of sighed, clearly impatient. “As far as this world is concerned, Sirius Black has been dead for over two decades. Your presence here is. . . an anomaly.”

 Sirius frowned. “Two decades? What are you on about? I’ve only been gone—” He paused, his mind racing. The look on McGonagall’s slightly aged face, the changes in her demeanor, the fact that she was the headmistress now. “Wait. How long have I been gone?”

 “It’s been 26 years since you fell through the veil,” Jones said flatly.

 The words hit Sirius like a physical blow. He staggered back a step, his mind reeling. “That’s not possible. I—It couldn’t have been that long.”

 Harry.

 There was no way he had abandoned his godson for twenty-six years on top of the twelve he’d spent in Azkaban! Oh, no, he had immensely failed James and Lily.

 Before Sirius could fathom a reply, they reached the end of the hallway, where a man was waiting. His robes were as nondescript as the women’s, but his shaggy brown hair and faint stubble gave him a more approachable appearance.

 “This is Addam Granger,” Jones said as they approached.

 “Another one?” Sirius quipped dryly to match his souring mood, eyeing the man. “Any chance you’re related to a girl with dentist parents?”

 “Unspeakable Granger,” the man corrected lightly, though his tone lacked the edge Sirius had grown accustomed to from the other two. “And to answer your question: no, the name is pure coincidence.”

 Granger extended a hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Sirius shook it. “Pleasure to meet you, Sirius. I’ve heard. . . quite a bit about you.”

 Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Should I be flattered or worried?”

 Granger grinned. “That depends entirely on how cooperative you feel like being with us.”

For weeks, Sirius Black lived in what he could only describe as a gilded cage.

 The Department of Mysteries was vast and enigmatic, filled with corridors that twisted upon themselves and chambers that seemed to shift as if they had minds of their own. He was confined to a sterile room outfitted with minimal comforts: a narrow cot, a desk stacked with parchment, and a magically sealed door that only opened for the Unspeakables.

 They called it a “secure observation chamber,” but Sirius knew a cell when he saw one.

 The tests were relentless. Every day, Unspeakables would enter his room, armed with wands and enchanted instruments, probing him for information. They examined his magical core, tested his reaction to various spells, and even analyzed his memories when he let his guard down—though Sirius was careful not to let them see too much.

 “Your magical signature is unstable,” Fawley, the blonde woman who escorted him from Hogwarts with Jones had said one afternoon, her tone clinical as she waved her wand over his chest, sending ripples of blue light through his body. “It’s like your magic isn’t. . . fully anchored here. As if part of you belongs elsewhere.”

 “Elsewhere is exactly where I’d rather be,” Sirius had snapped, yanking away from her wand.

 Fawley didn’t flinch. None of them ever did. They were maddeningly composed, even when Sirius lost his temper and threw insults or, on one occasion, a chair.

 “We need to run tests,” one of them said.

 “What kind of tests?”

 “Your blood,” Fawley replied matter-of-factly. “To determine your magical core and its. . . anomalies.”

 Sirius’s eyes narrowed. “Anomalies? What are you on about?”

 Jones stepped forward, her expression softening slightly. “It’s not as sinister as it sounds. When you fell through the veil, you entered this world from another—a parallel—universe. Your magical core, while similar, might still be slightly out of sync with ours, which means—”

 “Which means you’ve been using me as some sort of lab experiment,” Sirius interrupted, his voice low and dangerous.

 “No,” Fawley cut sharply. “It means we’re trying to understand the nature of your arrival so we can determine if it’s possible to send you back—or if it poses a threat.”

 Sirius’s jaw tightened. “A threat to whom? Me? Or your precious ministry?”

 “To everyone,” Jones replied evenly. “Including yourself.”

 Granger placed a calming hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Look, we’re not here to harm you. We’re here to help. But we need your cooperation.”

 No matter how often they explained his situation, Sirius still refused to believe it.

“This isn’t 1996!” Fawley had snapped after Sirius tempted her into a long argument, her tone as sharp as her gaze. “It’s 2022. Other than the Daily Prophet, what further proof do you want?”

 “Don’t insult my intelligence,” Sirius had shot back. “I know time magic is unstable, but 26 years? Do you expect me to believe that?”

 “You didn’t just travel through time, Mr. Black,” Unspeakable Granger had added tiredly. “As we’ve explained before, you have also crossed dimensions. This isn’t your world.”

 That was the part Sirius still struggled with the most. If this wasn’t his world, then what did that mean for him? For Harry? For everyone he’d left behind?

 He spent sleepless nights pacing the room, his mind racing with unanswered questions. Was Harry safe in his own world? Was Voldemort still alive there? Had Sirius’ sacrifice meant anything at all?

 The Unspeakables wanted answers from him, but he had none to give. And truthfully, he didn’t care. Not about their theories or their concerns about “dimensional instability.”

 The only thing Sirius cared about was finding Harry.

 One evening, after yet another round of tests, Sirius sat on the edge of his cot, staring blankly at the wall. His hands were clenched into fists, his mind replaying the moment he’d fallen through the veil.

 Harry had been there. He’d been fighting. And Sirius had failed him.

 The door to his chamber slid open, and Addam Granger stepped inside, carrying a folder of parchment. He was the kindest of the three Unspeakables that he was most familiar with, though Sirius suspected it was more a tactic than genuine empathy.

 “Sirius,” Granger began, his tone measured, “we need to discuss your cooperation—or lack thereof.”

 Sirius didn’t look at him. “I told you before, I don’t care about your tests or your theories. I’m not answering another one of your bloody questions until I know Harry’s safe.”

 Granger sighed, setting the folder on the desk. “We’ve told you—Harry Potter is alive in this dimension. He’s safe.”

 “I want to see him,” Sirius said flatly.

 The man responded quietly. “He’s not your godson.”

 “I don’t care.” Sirius tone carried a heavy resolute. “I have to see him.”

 “I’m sorry, but it’s simply prohibited. We cannot allow it.”

 Sirius’s head snapped up, his grey eyes blazing. “Why not?”

 “Because your presence here is dangerous as it is,” Granger said. “The theory of dimension collision might still be a possibility—however lucky we are that a version of yourself here does not exist anymore—we cannot risk further exposure unless we know for certain that the danger—”

 “I don’t give a damn about your theories!” Sirius roared, standing so abruptly that the cot scraped against the floor. “I’m not cooperating with any of this anymore until I see him. Until I know he’s alive and well, and not some figment of your imagination.”

 Granger studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You don’t trust us.”

 “Of course I don’t,” Sirius snapped. “You’ve kept me locked in here like a bloody lab rat, poking and prodding me like I’m some kind of experiment. If you were in my position, would you have trusted the absurd things your captors tell you?”

 Granger didn’t answer immediately, but when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 For the first time since his arrival, Sirius allowed himself to feel a flicker of hope.