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Backfire	By : SpeedyTomato Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Sirius Views: 24217 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 12
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and make not a knut off this work of fanfiction

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Chapter 2

“Do we have anything at all that can help with this nightmare?” Sirius asked, looking around the table in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. “So far we've come up with jack and shit for what can aid in stopping this mess.” He wasn't counting on this. The bits Albus had managed to come up with hadn't done much. While they were on the trail of objects which would allow them to finally make sure it came to an end, it wasn't helping how bad this was. Besides, they hadn't found all the damned things yet either, only two so far.
“We just need to keep up what we are doing,” Albus admitted with a heavy sigh. “And work on protecting everyone we can. Severus is giving us all he can when it comes to clues, so we might have ideas of where we're most needed.”
“In other words, we have nothing,” Remus added softly, shaking his head.
“No, not really,” Albus admitted, looking ancient. “Tom has an advantage we're having a hard time countering. When Cornelius refused to believe us all those years ago, he gave him what he needed to kick this off.”
“And that damned secret weapon, as you called it, didn't help anything,” Bill Weasley snorted, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “All it did was end up out for the public to hear. Harry Potter vanished all those years ago and we have no idea where he is. We don't even know if he's alive.”
“I have a feeling he's alive,” Minerva added, shooting Albus another of her scathing glares over the topic, pleased when he flinched. Before anyone could ask, she explained, “The look on the Dursleys' faces when they're questioned tells me they know just where he is, or have a good idea, but can't because of the spell on them. Until we can figure out what that spell is and how to break it, we have no way of getting them to tell us what happened.”
“Leave Harry out of this,” Sirius snarled, tone deadly. “You two screwed up putting him in that hell hole all those years ago. Wherever he is, he's safe and needs left alone. He doesn't need pulled into this mess over a prophecy. If he's smart, he'll stay right where he is and out of the UK. It's our problem to deal with, not his.”
“Sirius is right,” Remus said, looking around before shooting Albus his own glare. “I don't care what that Prophecy says. We fight this war, not him. He's not in the UK, we all know this, so he needs left where he is. We don't even know if he's heard what's going on here. If he has, it's doubtful he realizes how he's involved. Harry needs to stay right where he is and safe.”
Then he leveled another glare at Albus and hissed, “You should have followed James and Lily's wills and brought him to me.” This topic was still touchy as hell with both him and Sirius.
“I should have, I admit it now,” Albus told them with a weary bent to his voice.
Before this degenerated further, knowing the fight coming as it had happened before, Dung chimed in, “I might have a lead on a way to get information.”
“What's that?” Albus asked, interested and thankful they would be off the topic.
“An old contact of mine is back in the country,” Dung explained, looking around. “He's one who doesn't lean to either side of this nightmare but has contacts in both. Because of what he does, he has plenty among the other side and gathers information. I'm trying to set up a meeting with him to see what I can manage. If I do, I need someone with me as a contact he can use to pass information.”
A glance at Sirius he then added, “I'm going to say Sirius because he was in prison for so long. I'm sure Hank will be more comfortable with him than most.”
“Why?” Sirius asked, curious and wary. He was cleared, of course, with Peter having been caught and kissed five years previous. His time in Azkaban was a very touchy topic with him and he sure as hell didn't want to have to end up in contact with the criminal element like those he was around for so long.
“Look, Hank isn't a criminal, but he knows plenty. It has to do with where he's from. He's a Brit, but was raised in the States, south Bronx in New York City to be exact. Where he was, the school and such, was an area which lent itself to the criminal element. It just comes down to he's more comfortable with them. He—well, he is truly grey with so much. While what he does is frowned upon, it's not illegal. It just comes down to he's one who straddles the line and is more comfortable with the kind of people he's used to. Sirius would fit the bill. The minute Hank hears Azkaban, he'll end up more comfortable with him.”
“Understood,” Sirius sighed with a nod. He'd go with it, though he would reserve judgment on the bloke until they met.
“I think we can manage,” Albus told him. “How much does this Hank know? And is it useful?”
“Trust me, Hank knows and hears plenty,” Dung grinned. “He hoards information and uses it when he can. While he doesn't generally give a damn about most bits, like the war, he doesn't like the other side and the people he has to deal with. Those are the reasons I've been able to get bits out of him in the past when he's in the country. From what I heard, he's sticking around for a while this time. If he is, he'll be a perfect way to get some of what we need. We just have to work with him and see what he'll do.”
“Any line on information we can manage will help,” Severus said, arms folded over his chest, brow drawn down. He wondered if he had met this Hank person before. There were plenty associated with the Dark Lord who weren't Death Eaters and just helped. If this one was, he would pick Black's brain about him if and when they met then go from there.
“He comes up with plenty, trust me,” Dung snorted, taking a pull off his pipe, ignoring the look and huff from Molly. “He has a way about him which lends to so many opening up to him. Probably because he doesn't talk much. Let me see what I can do with him.”
Then, with a sigh, he added, “I'm going to put it out here now; Hank won't give up anything for free. You have to do a trade with him for something or pay him. It's just the way he works. Let me see what he might want to feed us what he knows. I'll go from there with it and negotiate what I can.”
“I'm not sure how comfortable I am paying for information in some way,” Albus admitted, leaning forward and clasping his hands on the table, brow drawn down. “When you pay, you aren't sure what you're getting.”
“That's why I want to talk to him,” Dung told the aging Headmaster. “Let me see what I can work out. It might just be a swap for something easy enough I can pull off. Last time he was in the country, he just wanted some contacts for something he needed. If it's similar, it won't be an issue.”
“Any of your contacts are suspicious, Dung,” Arthur added quietly, shaking his head. He was well aware of the type of people Dung associated with and wasn't sure if he wanted what they knew because of how he might have come across the information.
“Like I said; Hank's different. He doesn't do anything illegal. It's just—he's odd,” Dung sighed, leaning back and sipping his beer after another puff on his pipe. “From what I know, he ensures he doesn't step over the line into anything illegal. He just is comfortable around my kind of people.”
“We'll judge when we find out what he can bring to the table,” Albus said, looking around the group. “You need to consider if we're going to obtain information about the other side, most is going to end up coming from some more unsavory elements unless we're talking about contacts in the Ministry.”
“I don't suppose I thought about I that way.” Arthur admitted with a heavy sigh.
“Set up what you can, Dung, and we'll go from there. If you need Sirius, let him know and the two of you can work out what you need from there.”
“Let me see what he has to say,” Dung told him. “I sent off an owl today and haven't received an answer yet.”
After a nod to let the man know he heard, Albus pressed on with some information he had picked up. At this juncture, they needed help, desperately. The UK was in a bad way with it looking like it was steadily growing worse with each passing day. Everything he counted on for so long was now gone with the plans in the bin. When he began figuring out what Tom had done all those years ago, he thought he had plenty of time before the true fight was on. It didn't happen. The fight kicked off in what would have been Harry's first year at Hogwarts when Tom managed to get his hand on the that stone. Since then he had just grown more powerful. At this point, if something didn't happen soon, Tom would be in complete control of the UK within a year. Yes, any help was needed, even if it wasn't completely legal.

As Hank sipped his beer, his eyes darted all over the tavern, keeping a close eye on what was going on. Because of the type of place this was, it was best to keep watch for some fool who wanted to try to take you on. He was planted in a seedy bar down Knockturn Alley called the Dragon's Claws having a few and scoping out the territory. This was the pub he liked when he was in London and a place he gathered much of his information. Plus, it was a place Dung wasn't barred from the way he was the Hog's Head, somewhere else Hank liked to frequent.
Eyes all over, taking in who was where, Hank tried to relax a tad. He managed to get plenty done at home and was at least starting to get the place how he wanted, so he knocked off for the night. As he was one who was a night owl, staying up all night and sleeping during the day, he was twitching to get out like he always did. After all, he made plenty of money and picked up what information he could use at night, so he would keep with the habit. With all he had to catch up on, he needed to spend time among those he knew and was comfortable with to gather what he needed so he knew what he needed to do.
When he finished his beer and ordered another, he checked his Rolex to see how much longer he had before Dung was supposed to show up. If he had plenty of time still, he would talk to a few people as he knew some of those here. He didn't, though. It was only fifteen minutes or so before Dung was supposed to show. From experience, he knew Dung would show up late, probably by ten to fifteen minutes, but it wasn't enough time for him to do what he wanted. Instead, he would order something for dinner. Since he had a lot to talk over with Dung when it came to several areas, he might as well eat so he could press on with gathering intel when the man left. Plenty he knew and had to reconnect with didn't like or trust Dung, so he didn't want him around when he started working. Like with most he dealt with, he knew just what Dung was like and planned to stay alert for some kind of scheme the man had in mind.
As his order arrived and he was tucking in, Dung slid into the chair by him, back to the wall and seated where he could keep an eye on most of the club, especially the door. With a nod to the man, Hank swallowed a mouth full of food and asked, “What is it you wanted, Dung? You said you wanted to talk to me about something.” He would judge from there.
“About gathering information,” Dung told him, eyes following some in the club he knew he had to keep an eye on. After he produced his wand and put up the standard muffling charm, he explained, “About the other side of this war. I know you keep your ear to the ground and hear plenty. Want to know what you'll take to start spilling what you know.”
“It's going to cost you,” Hank told him honestly, eyes taking in what was going on all over in case there was trouble. With the sort who frequented this pub, trouble tended to happen.
“Understood and willing to work with you about some of it,” Dung told him with a nod, leaning back. Thankfully, the ones he had huge problems with or who didn't like him weren't around tonight. They were probably at the Hog's Head.
“There are some bits and bobs I need to get my hands on when it comes to potions ingredients. I have some buyers who need them and can't acquire them easily in other countries. And I need some contacts for other areas,” Hank told him, figuring it was the best way to jump off. “We can negotiate from there.”
“Tell me what you need and I'll set you up with some people I know who can get their hands on them easily,” Dung told him, pleased the opening bid in this wasn't too high and something he could deal with. “Because of our positions, I think we need to set you up with a better contact you can get in touch with easily.”
“Not sure about that as I'm not real trusting when it comes to your side of the mess, Dung,” Hank told him honestly, shaking his head. “Anyone too closely connected with Albus Dumbledore I want to stay away from. Not had contact with the man, but I'm well aware what he's like. Once you help him one time, you seem like you’re on the hook for more and he wants to draw you in. No thanks. I'll pass info if the price is right, but I want to stay out of this pissing contest.”
“Understood,” Dung told him honestly, expecting something such as this from Hank. “I have someone in mind. You'll be fine with him. He spent years in Azkaban for murders which he didn’t commit, but he survived it at a time when the Dementors were still there. He's part of the Order, but plenty irked with the old goat.”
“Tough one then,” Hank observed, thinking it over. “You sure he won't pull the shit others try and push for the recruitment? He pulls that stunt and my help ends. And he needs to know I don't pass info for free.”
“Not to worry,” Dung assured him after taking a drink and snagging some chips out of a basket the waitress brought over for them. “I'll fill him in more. He knows what you're like as I told him. Despite being attached to the Order, he'll work with what you need.”
“Set up something then and we'll meet on neutral ground,” Hank gruffed as he ate. “Once I get the first of what I want from you.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” Dung asked. “Once you tell me, I'll know who to set you up with.” With Hank, he didn't think he'd have to use some of his shadier contacts. He'd want something harder to get or that raised eyebrows at the apothecaries, but it wouldn't be illegal, just frowned on.
“Just some stranger bits and bobs,” Hank told him then pulled his list out of his pocket and rattled off what his buyer in New York wanted. These were bits which were seriously hard to come by there and tended to be illegal.
As he listened in, Dung nodded. Yeah, this would be easy enough for him to help with. If all Hank wanted were these sort of bits, he was good and they could end up with the info they needed without a hassle. He would wait and see, though. Sirius would have to judge from here on out. As Black was good at thinking on his feet, he'd manage.

Just as the first rays of dawn were starting to show, Hank came in and flopped down on his bed with a tired groan. While worn out from the long night out, he was pleased. It had been fruitful, in plenty of ways. Not only did he reconnect with old contacts and gather intel on plenty going on, he had the sources he needed to fill some orders for those in the States. As it was legal on his end, he would send on what they wanted through his normal remail service and let them worry about the fact it wasn't legal on their end.
Eyes going shut, he toed his boots off then waved his wand and sent them to their proper place. Everything wasn't in place yet and while he hadn't connected with all his contacts or others Dung referred him to, he had enough set up the money would start rolling in. Good. Later today he would put out feelers to more, then work on getting info on the war. He knew the basics from the papers, of course, and what he heard tonight, but wanted the full scope of what was going on before sending out word to his 'customers' he was in the UK for a while. Once he did so, he would gather the info he needed for not only himself but the area Dung wanted help with. He already had plenty to start out with, so it wasn't a problem. A few he knew who would want to reconnect were bigger name marked Death Eaters. They would be a boon for plenty. He was sure with what they could feed him, he would manage to get all he needed out of the person Dung wanted him to connect with from the Order.
After sitting up with a groan, he put his wand on the bedside table then stood and began undressing. As he did, he heard a noise and looked up then grinned and said, “Hey, Yama. Bedtime for you as well?” The hybrid bird had just flapped in and landed on his perch. As big as the creature was, something far bigger than the biggest breed of owl, he tended to make plenty of noise.
His assumption was the bird had gone out hunting while he was gone. With what he knew of his companion, rats were a favorite food. Being in London, he was sure he would have a good feast of them every night. When the bird gave his normal evil sounding hiss, he chuckled and tossed his dirty clothes in the general direction of the hamper. Deweazle would tend to them later, so he wasn't bothered that they didn't land exactly where he wanted them.
Once fully naked, he padded off to the loo to take care of the normal business, scratching his stomach along the way.
As he stood in front of the sink and stared in the mirror while he brushed his teeth, his eyes drifted to his forehead. When he was sent away, there had been a scar there, one very noticeable. His aunt had tried to ensure it was hidden plenty of times while he lived with them. When he arrived in New York, it was surgically removed. He remembered that much anyway. However, like with his real name and so much else, he couldn't recall anything beyond the fact that it was removed. It was part of the spell applied to him. The way he figured it, whatever the scar had been would lead him to help find his real identity, so he was forced to forget. And he hated it.
Still brushing his teeth, he stared at his forehead, mind all over the problem of who he really was. The spell—he wasn't sure he would ever be able to reverse it as he couldn't be certain which one was used. He would work with tracing like he had been, though he wasn't getting much of anywhere with it. The only other option he knew might work was weakening the spell by slowly figuring out parts or having something start to jar the memories loose. The latter was probably his best bet. Whatever spell was used, and it was probably a modification of the Obliviate, wouldn't stand up against a natural form of recovery and the déjà vu like recall. While it was his best bet, he wasn't sure how to start triggering anything.
Not paying attention to the brushing, and continuing more because he had been when he started thinking rather than because it was still needed, Hank tried to think what he could do to trigger memories. The only bit which came to mind was a visit to Little Whinging. Maybe a walk around would kick something in gear there. He didn’t like the idea as he hated the damned place and memories from there, but he thought he might do so in the next week or so. It would be during the day in hopes of seeing someone who might help trigger bits. He doubted anyone would recognize him as he had changed so much, but he might recognize one of them enough to start him down that road. If it triggered even something small, it would help.
Plan in mind, he spit out the last of the toothpaste then rinsed his mouth. Yes, he would go with this then see what else he could find to trigger something. He wasn't sure what as the Fat Man and Horse Face didn't manage, but there had to be a way. Dudley came to mind, but he discounted that. While he would find it amusing to visit his cousin in jail to rub plenty in his face, he wouldn't. No, he didn't like dealing with law enforcement, be it Muggle or Magical. Interacting with them led to people remembering him or wondering. He couldn't have that with some of what he did. Well, and the mess in the States. Oh, he was sure he wouldn't be looked at for the crime spree as he wasn't involved and no clues would lead to him, but friends were. When friends ended up involved, especially in something this big, the law tended to take notice and wanted to talk to plenty. No, he wanted them staying away from him.
When he finished, he walked back into the bedroom. After telling Yama goodnight, he crawled into bed, still naked. Tomorrow would be another busy day, so he needed sleep. Snatching his wand off the bedside table, he killed the lights then slipped it under his pillow and turned on his side away from the window, but facing the door. This was normal for him and he couldn't sleep without his wand under the pillow and facing the door. Old habit for protection. Once he gave a quick look around to make sure he was safe, he told the bird, “Let me know if there are problems.” Of course, he heard the normal hiss in return. Good. Between him and Yama, anyone foolish enough to try to break in or start something would need an undertaker when they were done. It meant he was safe.
Like most nights, it didn't take Hank long to drift off to sleep. As the noise from the street outside his window increased while the Muggles started their day, Hank's dreams drifted to vague, confusing imagery he didn't recognize. Even asleep, he knew these were clues to his past, but didn't know how they related. And it increased the longing to learn who he was. Somehow he felt he wasn't someone who had never known love. In his past there were people who loved him very much. It was just a feeling, but one he wanted to understand. Maybe the green eyes he saw in the dream and the beautiful voice who sang the lullaby to someone called Harry were clues. He didn't know, but wanted to remember so he could figure it out.
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Backfire