CRACK!

Sirius found himself on the road outside the Lupin house and quickly ducked through the Fidelus's shield. The Lupin house was dark and quiet and he hurried up the path and into the house.

There was a funny feeling in there, something he couldn't quite describe, hanging in the air, and he withdrew his wand, looking about with a wary eye. "Hullo?" he called quietly. But there came no reply. Sirius reached up into his hair and drew his wand slowly, silently, taking careful steps, one foot directly in front of the other, rolling his boot cautiously to avoid making a sound, listening carefully. "Hullo?" he tried again, passing the mantel slowly, staring out toward the kitchen.

Sirius did not notice that the photos in their frames were still, not moving like they should, and there were a couple clocks, lined up, whose hands were not ticking, but still.

"Hullo?" he called again.

There was a creak of the floorboards and he turned around, wand raised. But nobody was there. His hands shook. "Hominum revelio," he cast, waving his wand.

Nothing.

Sirius walked back to the living room, looking at the floorboard he'd been sure he'd heard the creak not a moment before. It was still empty, and he swept his eyes about, desperate, because now he could sense it, too. There was someone in that room, someone moving around, but his magic had failed to show them.

"Are you a ghost? Show yourself."

Nothing.

Sirius shivered and stood behind the couch, looking around.

It was then that he spotted the still photos and the un-ticking clocks.

"Mopsus," he whispered, and he looked around, his heart jumping now. "Fuck." Quickly, without care for quiet now, he charged for the front door, hoping to get the hell out of it, reaching for the knob, when there was a decided click of the lock and he stopped short. "Alohamora," he tried, and, but it didn't work. "Reducto!" But the sparks would not come from his wand and he slammed into the door a couple times, using his shoulder like a battering ram. The door stood, still whole and locked, and, realizing he wasn't getting out - Sirius slowly turned around.

Shivering, pale, and semi-transparent, Kostos Mospus stood in the middle of the living room, staring at him, his fingers holding a shiny gold device, which he tucked into his robes as Sirius turned. "Hello Sirius Black," Mopsus said.

Sirius simply stared.

Mopsus smiled in a way that - from anyone else - might have been seen as gentle, but Sirius was put at unease by it coming from the old man, whose wrinkles outnumbered the stars. Mopsus's mouth was lopsided and his yellowed teeth unnerving, and even more so when he was only partly visible like this.

"Your manners fail you, boy," Mopsus said.

Sirius snapped, "You don't deserve my manners."

Mopsus laughed. "You've always been the one with quite the mouth on you. Never able to keep that bit of you in check, are you, Sirius Black?" Mopsus shook his head. "It'll be your undoing, that temper of yours."

Sirius glowered, "Give me one god damn good reason why I shouldn't hex you and call for the Ministry right now."

Mopsus chuckled, "Your magic has no affect here, and especially no impact on me. Hard to kill what isn't fully alive."

Sirius's hand shook, his wand aimed.

"Go ahead and test it, if you don't believe me," Mopsus said.

Sirius contemplated this, then quickly aimed his wand. "Accio," he said, tying at summoning a trinket from the shelf, but it didn't move. Sirius swallowed nervously, and tucked his wand back into his hair, having proven Mopsus was telling the truth.

Mopsus's smile widened.

Sirius leaned against the door, deciding to play it cool. "What'd you do? Why doesn't my magic work? What are you here for?"

"One question at a time, my boy."

"Why doesn't my magic work?"

Mopsus nodded. "A good one to start with." He walked forward, closer to Sirius, who instinctively moved away so that they were separated now by the couch and a small table. Mopsus stopped and stared at Sirius a long moment, then said, "We are in a time loop."

"A time loop."

"Yes," Mopsus nodded, and he moved his finger in a circle... over and over again, slowly, his shriveled hand out before him. "We are living in the same one second, over and over and over. All of your spells would take longer than a second to be fully cast and therefore cannot take effect."

Sirius's eyes moved to the clocks. Each said different times, but indeed, the second hands were quivering ever so slightly... again and again and again, as though they wanted to move, but could not. He looked back at Mopsus. "Why are you here?"

"I'm afraid I must ask a favor of you."

"A favor of me?" Sirius asked, a scoff to his voice.

"Indeed," Mopsus nodded.

"And why should I do you any favors?" Sirius asked, "After all the rubbish you've put my friends through? You got a lot of nerve, you old bastard."

Mopsus nodded, "Well you aren't wrong about that," he whispered, and for a moment, his milky-white eyes looked sad. "I am a bastard."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. He didn't want to see sadness in the old man's eyes. He didn't want to feel as though he should contemplate pity for him. "Answer the fucking question," Sirius hissed.

"You ought to do me the favor because your loved one is in need of you. He suffers. You ought to do the favor for him."

Sirius raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"It will only take use of a couple of precious seconds, Sirius," Mopsus promised, and then you can get the mirror and be on your way back to the camp with Lily, James, and Remus. You do need that mirror," he said, "For Peter will be looking for you soon. Mopsus sees all."

Sirius's words were sharp, "Yeah, I heard all about you and your precious seconds! I saw what you did to Lyall Lupin, trapping his soul in a clock and feeding off it yourself. How many people have you got trapped in timeloops like this one, stealing seconds away from their lives? How many people's lives have you ruined to save your own?"

Mopsus's voice was hard. Instead of answering, he asked, "Will you help me or will you let your loved one suffer?"

Sirius hesitated, stepping quietly so that Mopsus could not possibly hear where he was, but the old man turned with him every step he took. "Who is it I'm helping?"

Mopsus did not answer.

"Who is it I'm helping, old man?"

"Does it matter?" Mopsus asked. He simply held out his hand, palm up, as though beckoning for Sirius to take a hold of it.

Sirius hesitated, but with another glance at the unmoving clock, he realized he didn't have much of an option. So he took a couple quick steps forward, "Fine. Let's get it bloody over with, then."

CRACK!

They were no longer in the Lupin house, but in a London street, frozen the same way. It was dark, the street lights were up, the stars in the foggy London sky.

Sirius looked up and realized they were outside of St. Mungo's.

Mopsus lowered his hand, releasing Sirius.

"What are we doing here?" Sirius asked.

"Helping your loved one," Mopsus replied, and he stepped forward, through the plate glass that hid the hospital entrance. Sirius looked about, but the muggles on the street were all frozen in place, their smiles still, laughter hanging from their unmoving mouths. He stepped through as well.

Inside, witches and wizards were frozen in place as well. A little boy sat mid-sneeze on the floor, a bird falling from his nostril with a frantic looking mum holding him on her hip at the counter. The reception witch was looking lazily at a list of names. Other magical maladies were ailing the people around the waiting room, their peculiar situations looking even more peculiar frozen in time as they were.

Sirius followed Mopsus down the hall, and up the stairs. The old man wasn't winded at all by the time they'd reached the top, although Sirius himself was quite tired. He froze as they reached the hallway. "Wait, I know this wing," he said.

Mopsus nodded. "Come along."

Sirius felt sick. He'd stood in this very stairwell with a hysteric James not even two years ago. He clutched the banister. "Are we back in time?" he asked.

Mopsus stood at the very top, his hand on the handle of the door, not looking at Sirius - but then, Mopsus was never looking at anything, was he? "Forward... The Future."

Sirius's sickness increased.

"Come," Mopsus said, and he withdrew a pocket watch and his thumb ran over its face, as though he could read it with his touch. "We've not much time."

"Yes sir." Sirius climbed the last few steps.

Mopsus led the way down the hall, and he finally came to a stop outside of a room. There was light glowing from the little window and under the crack beneath the door. And a garland of colored paper hung in the hall outside. A mediwitch was frozen mid-walk down the hall, facing away from the door, and Sirius saw on the bench outside was a stack of science fiction novels with worn-out covers.

"Now," Mopsus's voice was firm, "You shall ask no detailed questions, and give no detailed answers. You shall go in, do what you are to do, and come back out. Do you understand?"

Sirius looked at the door, then back to Mopsus. "It's Mr. P, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"The dragon pox?"

"Yes."

Sirius swallowed back the unease rising in him. His voice shook. "Is he --"

"Dying. Yes."

Sirius drew a deep breath, "What year is it?"

"I cannot tell you," Mopsus answered.

"But it's just that -- that James ought to know -- he's just had a row with his mum and dad and --"

"Sirius," Mopsus said, "I cannot tell you."

Sirius hung his head.

"And you cannot tell James - or anyone else - anything at all until the time comes."

Sirius felt a lump rise up in his throat, "But --"

"You have been chosen for this task, Sirius, because you are needed. But if I must, I will chose another, and obliviate your mind. The choice is yours."

Sirius shook his head, "No, don't. I'll -- I'm here."

"Alright. Ask no questions, give no answers. You'll have as long as you need once you're in and it will cost you only precious seconds. None shall disturb you."

"Yes sir."

Mopsus waved his wand and the door creaked opened. "We've recalled our manners, I see," he said quietly.

Sirius didn't answer, but he stepped through the door, his eyes on Mopsus for a lingering moment, before turning back around.

He knew the moment that time had been released to move in it's natural way once more. Out the window, he could see the snow begin to fall as it should, and the lights of muggle cars flash as they passed. Somewhere in the hospital, Christmas music was playing faintly, and in the bed, Charlus Potter lay, sputtering, smoking from the nose, clutching a handkerchief, and utterly alone.

"Dad?" Sirius asked, taking a step forward.

Charlus's eyes fluttered opened and he struggled to focus on Sirius. He opened his mouth to speak and instead of words, there came a great billows of black smoke and Sirius instinctively hurried forward to wave it away and help Charlus to sit up, as they'd taught them to do when he'd been here before.

It was clear in Charlus's face that this was the future. The lines around his eyes were deeper, his hair set further back, and his eyes so much more exhausted, as though life had been drained out of them. But for as sad as he looked, a quavering smile came over Charlus's mouth. "S - Sirius," he gasped. "You - you're here."

"Yeah, I'm here," Sirius nodded and he kicked a chair closer, taking up Charlus's hands in his.

"Wh- what about - the we- wedding?" Charlus asked.

Sirius had to bite his tongue to keep from asking what wedding. He shook his head, "No matter, da. I'm here."

Charlus was shaking, and more smoke billowed out of him, thicker than before, like soot. Sirius coughed as it blew into the air. He couldn't imagine how heavy it must feel for Charlus himself, if that was the effect it had on Sirius's lungs. "I w- wanted to come..."

"I know," Sirius replied because it seemed the thing to say.

Charlus brought the handkerchief to his mouth and there was a horrible coughing that curled his shoulders down and seemed to squeeze him up like a bit of used parchment. When he withdrew the kerchief, it was soaked with blood and bile. He looked up at Sirius apologetically, but Sirius simply drew his wand, magicking the thing into the rubbish, and drew his own from his pocket, handing it over. "Here you are, Dad. Good as new."

Charlus clutched the cloth, and his entire body trembled.

Sirius didn't know what made him do it... Charlus just looked so bloody miserable that he wanted to give him something that could make him smile. He leaned close. "Hey, would you like to know a story, Mr. P?"

Charlus looked up at him, shaking, fumes coming up from his nose.

Sirius took a deep breath, "Once upon a time, there was a dog named Snuffles," he began, and as soon as the words came from his mouth, he felt his heart clench up and saw Mr. Potter's lips curve into a smile, "And he lived with the most amazing family in the entire world. Snuffles hadn't always been so lucky, see, he used to live with an awful family, who beat him and treated him like rubbish." Charlus stared up at Sirius. "So Snuffles ran away from home one day, and he made it all the way across London to his best mate's house and they were real great, the whole family was really great. The mum was nice and gentle and the dad was funny and sweet... and his best mate was the best mate that any -- any dog -- could ever ask for."

Charlus's eyes were filled with tears.

"And Snuffles always wanted to tell them that, how great they all were, but he wasn't particularly good at the whole sentimental thing..."

"We - we knew. We - always - always knew." Charlus said, with a sigh, "Ah, I always - always loved that bloody dog. Wonder - wonder where he is now... Give anything to see 'im again."

And Sirius slid off the edge of the bed, took a deep breath, and he transformed, right there in the hospital.

Charlus looked less surprised than Sirius had expected him to. He smiled and shifted his weight in the bed as best he could, letting out a pain-filled sigh, and he weakly patted the bed beside himself. Snuffles climbed up onto the chair and then onto the bed, sliding up close to Charuls Potter, and resting his doggy chin on the man's shoulder. Charlus let out a comforted sigh and relaxed, laying back into the pillows, and he stroked the dog's ears, his eyes struggling to stay opened.

Charlus's lips quirked at the edges. "I - I s-suppose I-I should al-always have known this, too," he murmured.