Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Blackadder. They are owned by JK Rowling and the BBC instead.

"Harry?"

Harry skidded to a halt as a voice called out from somewhere on the other side of the road. Dressed in a white polo neck shirt, black shorts and a pair of running pumps that had once been Dudley's when he was eleven, he turned his head to try and find the source of the noise. Upon searching, he found a woman he didn't seem to recognize from the opposite side of the road. She had short, closely cropped black hair that was beginning to grey, a rather narrow face with small lips; however, she was grinning mischievously, and Harry knew that grin anywhere. He looked quickly for oncoming traffic, and then sped across the road to where the lady was stood.

"Would you take offence if I said you looked uncannily like a cross between my Aunt Petunia and Snape, only smiling?" he asked as he reached the woman; she took a swipe at him with a small handbag.

"Yes, I would," said the woman in an irritated version of Tonks' voice, although she was still smiling. "I wasn't trying to emulate either of them particularly, but I think this is a new combination I've made now."

"Take it from me, it doesn't suit you," Harry smirked, and he was rewarded with another attack on his side with the handbag; it made contact and he winced slightly. "Didn't hurt as much as I'd expect, that."

"It's because you're bulking up," Tonks pointed out. "Now, if you could learn how to talk to a woman properly, you might get somewhere."

"Well, you're here, so I may as well start on you," Harry replied, winking; he saw a faint blush creep up Tonks' neck and grinned inwardly.

Since he had started his regime, he had been feeling much better. Although he still felt emotional about Sirius at night, he had taught himself that crying would not bring him back; at any rate, Sirius would have wanted him to look to the future rather than linger on the past. As a result, his focus and determination had driven him forward.

It had been on the third day when he had collided with a young, long haired blonde woman whilst coving round the edge of the park. He had apologized profusely and helped her to her feet before continuing onwards, determined, leaving the rather bemuse female behind him. Later that evening, after he had returned home and, for once, made polite conversation with his uncle (who was strangely doing his best to ignore him) about his fitness regime, he had showered, eaten and returned to bed. Then, about eleven o'clock, after the Dursleys had returned to bed, he had slipped into a jumper, and journeyed outside again.

Tonks was waiting for him on the bench in the back garden. She eyed him with a small smile playing around her lips as he approached her. He had received a note via an empty bottle stuck in a bush on his first run, which had simply read:

"Back in two days. Be there, same place, same time."

There could only be one person who had written it. Thus, Harry had been looking forward to his meeting with Tonks and had arrived in a rather perky mood, despite the lateness of the hour. He flopped down next to her; she looked at him, still grinning.

"You didn't recognize me earlier, did you?" she asked eventually.

He shook his head. "The blonde woman?"

"Did you like it?"

"To be perfectly honest, I wasn't really paying attention," he offered with an apologetic half-smile. "I was focused."

"Have to blend in," she said, motioning to the pink hair and dragon hide jacket she was currently decked out. "This would look too conspicuous in broad daylight."

"It does in the middle of the night as well," he added, earning himself a playful punch on the arm. "Anyway, why've you dragged me out here in the middle of the night?"

"Because we're both lonely?"

"...Smart thinking, that."

She nodded sagely. "No depressing topics tonight though. I don't want to suffer another breakdown."

Harry bit his lip. "I'd struggle to think of a topic that isn't depressing. My life makes Neon Genesis Evangelion look like a television show for kids."

"Eh?"

"That reference is probably too obscure for you. It's some Japanese programme Dudley watches. It's morbidly dysfunctional."

"Hey, at least you've got friends." She squeezed his hand gently and he gave a smile.

"That's true. But the others don't seem to be writing to me at the moment."

"They're trying Harry, but Dumbledore's told them not to."

A dark expression crossed Harry's face. "He's stopping them? Why?"

"Security. Death Eaters are on the rise again, Harry. There's nothing to stop one of them randomly intercepting a letter meant for you and tracing it back to Ron, Hermione and Neville. That's like putting a sign up next door to Voldermort's house that reads "ALL DEATH EATER SCUM ARE BASTARDS." It's not advisable."

Harry snorted. "He's trying to control me, Tonks. He seems to have too much of an influence over me at the moment."

Tonks looked at him with concern. "He's only doing what he thinks is best for you."

Harry turned and looked Tonks directly in the eye. "If he had told me certain truths, I wouldn't have lost my only remaining family."

Tonks gasped and Harry realized he had possibly overstepped the mark.

"I didn't mean to say that" he hastily added. "Sorry."

He squeezed Tonks' hand back and she lowered her head; for a moment, Harry thought she might cry again, but she raised it with a look of resolute determination, returning his gaze.

"I know it's hard, Harry. I'm trying to make it better for you by visiting, so don't take anything out on me. Please."

"I won't," Harry replied, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Don't worry," she replied, reaching round to give him a hug and resting her head on his shoulder. "Just let's try and stay positive."

They had spent the rest of the night chatting before Tonks had taken Harry back to his room and left him for bed. They had repeated this procedure over the last three nights, and now Harry had encountered her for the first time on one of his runs. He had a feeling that she had been around more than these isolated times, but decided not to raise the question.

"Could you change into someone different?" he asked her. "This appearance is really starting to unnerve me."

She rolled her eyes, and then walked round the corner, behind a bush. After a moment, she appeared again, dressed identically. Now however, she looked much more like the normal Tonks, except with two nose piercings and a mane of long black hair that cascaded down her back, past her thighs, cutting off just before it reached her knees.

Harry wolf whistled and she attempted to hit him for a third time; he stepped to one side and the bag sailed wide of the mark.

"Shut up, you" she said somewhat lamely, smiling. "Whistling like that."

"Hey, being a flirt cheers me up. If I'd known it had been this good, I'd have been doing it for a while now. Fred and George told me I was wasting my time chasing Cho."

"Cho?" Tonks wrinkled her nose slightly; the piercings shifted from side to side. "Didn't she have something to do with the breakup of your secret army or whatever it was?"

"You know perfectly well what it was called," Harry replied, smirking. "And yes. But no major damage came of the DA disbanding. I've been toying with the idea of reforming it with Dumbledore's permission, but I've no idea how many people would want to do it. I didn't think of myself to be a very good teacher."

"I'm sure you're a very good teacher, Harry," said Tonks in a low voice, placing her fingertips on his top over his heart. "In certain departments."

She burst out laughing at the stunned look on Harry's face as he started to blush fiercely. She started to back off as he came towards her, arms outstretched.

"I'm going to make you pay for that," he growled playfully. "Come here!"

She sped off, laughing as he gave chase. Sometimes, Harry wondered why he had missed Tonks as a friend from the very beginning; she was like a hybrid of Ron and Hermione. It was uncanny, but Harry loved it. And so too, apparently, did she, as she stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder and rounded the corner, pulling away into the distance.

Harry grinned to himself. The hunt was on.

000

"Sir? Mr. B?"

"Go away, Baldrick."

"I can't, sir. It's time for you to get up."

"Baldrick, I'm going to count to three. And if you haven't left the room, I'm going to hex you through the wall."

"I wouldn't do that sir; it is a rather expensive hotel."

Blackadder blearily opened one eye and used it to scan his surroundings. The figure of Baldrick dominated the scene, but he could make the rough shape of a window, a mantelpiece and a wardrobe all without straying too far.

"What time is it, Baldrick?"

"Ten to nine, sir."

"Oh, God," he mumbled into his pillow. He opened his other eye and slowly began to move his body round until his legs were overhanging the edge of his bed. He threw the covers off unceremoniously and staggered to his feet.

"Baldrick, if you could please go and-"

"Leave you to get changed, sir?" asked Baldrick as he opened the door to exit the room. "One step ahead of you Mr. B."

"I was actually going to-" began Blackadder, only to realize Baldrick had already left. Staring after his dogsbody for a moment, he shrugged and began to move slowly towards the bathroom.

After he had washed and freshened up, Blackadder opened his wardrobe and studied its contents. Baldrick had insisted on shrinking their luggage so that it had been easier to carry, slipping it into the pockets of his duffle coat, but he had returned it to normal size and filled their wardrobes upon their arrival a few days ago. They had reached London around six o'clock, to find that the mist was finally beginning to give way to a beautiful sunset, that tinted the skyline with an orange and pink blush. Blackadder had been able to unbutton his coat and let it flow in the much desired sinister fashion behind him as he and Baldrick had walked out of King's Cross Station and headed in direction of the Leaky Cauldron in Charring Cross. They had made good time across London on foot and had reached the Leaky Cauldron with ease. Blackadder had held out his arm to stop Baldrick just before they had entered.

"Remember, Baldrick. If anyone asks where we have been, tell them our cover story. Tell them we started a Muggle enterprise in the aftermath of the war, and have been seeking our fortunes elsewhere. I have no intention of saying that we were mercenaries in Iraq and the USSR in the last fifteen years. You never know who might be listening. Hopefully, we can get a pint of Tom's finest here without being noticed." He buttoned his coat up again. "Go on, open the door for me."

Baldrick strode forward, or as well as he could when impeded by his duffle coat, and opened the door for Blackadder. He stepped over the welcome mat and surveyed the run-down pub as Baldrick closed the door quietly behind him.

The Leaky Cauldron was deserted; Blackadder could not even see a single soul around him, bar Baldrick. He had never remembered it being this bad; usually, it had always been bustling, although customers had dwindled during the war. Even then, it was still a highly popular place, where wizards of all kinds met to socialize; where class boundaries were less frowned upon as normal. It hadn't been light or dark; it was not pristine, yet compared to the other haunts of gentlemen in the Alley Complex, it was considerably less disturbing. Blackadder had seen many of those places himself when he had been a young Auror, taking part in shock-and-awe raids against Voldermort. A tinge of nostalgia and regret passed through him as he remembered how he and Sirius had always been the eager new recruits, first onto the scene to fight the Death Eaters in battle.

There came a rustling sound, and the wizened form of Tom the Landlord came up from behind the bar. He looked exactly how Blackadder remembered him, with a shock of thin white hair that was backcombed and several teeth missing. He didn't seem to recognize them as he studied them for a moment before shrugging.

"Can I get any of you lads a drink?" he asked slowly, in a neutral accent; it seemed as if he was trying to surpass the Cockney tongue that was so common around the part of town they were in. "A nice Firewhisky, perhaps?"

"No thank you, Tom," Blackadder replied smoothly as he stepped forward into the guttering light that remained in the pub, throwing his features into relief. Tom gasped at the sight of the man staring at him, dressed in Muggle clothing, with short black curly hair and dark eyes.

"Edmund Blackadder?" he said after a moment. Blackadder nodded and Tom clutched onto the bar for support, as if he was worried of falling over with the shock. "Blimey!"

"Blimey indeed," Blackadder answered as he swept forward imperiously and sat himself on a stool at the bar. Baldrick followed and set himself down next to Blackadder. Tom's eyes widened again at the sight of the dogsbody.

"And Baldrick! Well, blow me over with a feather, I wasn't expecting you two. No-one's heard anything from you in nearly fifteen years! Tell me, what brings you here?"

"Secrets, I'm afraid" Blackadder answered, with an air of practice to the statement. "But since we are her, two pints please of your finest GreenGoblin please."

"Certainly," replied Tom, smiling toothlessly. He waved his hand and at once, all of the candles in the bar reignited. He pulled out two glasses from under the counter and turned to one of several barrels along his back wall. As their drinks were filled, Blackadder turned round and surveyed the Cauldron. Now illuminated, it seemed a much more inviting and warmer place. However, it still did not explain the lack of patrons.

As Baldrick handed over some Muggle money (Blackadder was glad that Tom accepted most currency) he turned back to the barman. "Needless to say, we've been out of wizarding society for quite a while. Pray tell Tom, why is your bar empty? It looks like what happened after the time Baldrick started trying to play a violin made from the pubic hair of a hippogriff."

Tom frowned for a moment. "Have you not heard any news, Edmund?"

"Honestly? I heard that Sirius Black had been killed. I didn't even know that he had escaped Azkaban prison to tell the truth."

"Well, there's some news for you. Black just received a posthumous pardon from the Ministry. One of the last things Fudge did."

"Hang on," Blackadder cut across, holding up a hand as Baldrick listened. "Let's go back a moment. Black was innocent? And Fudge is Minister? He was in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes when I was last here. Did he honestly become Minister for Magic? What about Crouch?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you all the ins and outs if I tried, Edmund, dear boy," Tom sighed. "Regardless, Bagnold retired in 1990 and was replaced by Fudge. He was popular to say the least; except, his stock has fallen so dramatically, he has just resigned before he was forced out by a Vote of No Confidence."

"Why?" questioned Baldrick. Tom looked nervously over his shoulder, as if he was expecting someone to be there, before turning and beckoning the pair closer.

"You-Know-Who is back," he whispered to them.

Baldrick nearly knocked over his drink. Blackadder went one better and knocked it over for him.

"He's back?"

"For a year, if Dumbledore's to be believed," Tom said, sighing. "Apparently came back last year. No-one knows how. Young Harry Potter saw him. Fudge refused to accept it and it wasn't until Voldermort broke into the Ministry and battled against Dumbledore that anyone took any notice."

"Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, he was there too with some friends. Anyway, Sirius Black was killed in this battle, and a subsequent investigation found him not guilty."

"Wasn't he in Azkaban though?" Baldrick interjected as he righted his glass and tried to see if he could salvage any of the drink. "I thought you couldn't break out?"

"Well Black did. Been on the run for three years before he was killed."

Edmund looked solemn for a moment. "The Muggle papers say he was killed by police."

"Police? Isn't that a band?" asked Baldrick, who earned himself a smack over the head by Blackadder.

"No, killed by Ministry personal, or so the story goes. On the premises. It didn't help Fudge's case, which is why he is on the way out."

Blackadder took a sip of his drink whilst Baldrick gave it a mournful look. "So who's in line to replace him?"

Tom looked Blackadder straight in the eye. "We may as well give the Ministry straight to Voldermort. It's Lord Melchett."

This time, it was Blackadder's turn to knock over his drink. Not only that, he spat out his mouthful which hit Baldrick directly in the face.

"Melchett?" he said, aghast. "That man couldn't find his own bottom with a Tracking Charm on it!"

"Exactly," Tom said with a grim expression. "The Wizarding World will never be the same again after this. If You-Know-Who is back, then we are going down faster than the Titanic."

"The one attempt wizards made at building a boat," mused Blackadder, sidetracked for a moment. "My grandfather helped charm it. Probably why it sank. Hand his wand broken and he joined the Muggle army. He got killed in the First World War. But regardless, does this mean he's got an army again as well?"

"Building, I guess," Tom answered. "Earlier in the year, the Dementors abandoned Azkaban; probably joined You-Know-Who, along with all of the escaped Death Eaters, like Bellatrix Lestrange."

Blackadder's eyes went cold. Tom suddenly realized what he had said.

"Oh, I'm sorry Edmund. I didn't mean to, it just–"

"Slipped out," Blackadder finished curtly. His eyes unfocused slightly, then returned in their warmth as he patted Tom's hand. "It's fine Tom, it just brings back bad memories for me. But Azkaban fell?"

"We still own it, with Auror guards. But the Aurors are going to get decimated if You-Know-Who picks up. Amelia Bones just died recently. And that's not all; attacks in Wolverhampton, collapsing suspension bridges, a ferry got sank on the way to the Isle of Skye –"

"I've seen all of these in the Muggle news," Blackadder said, rubbing his eyes with a free hand. "Natural disasters, safety guidelines not met; I bet the Obliviators are having a nightmare."

"Are you going to rejoin then?" asked Tom.

Blackadder looked at him confusedly. "What?"

"You mean as in rejoin the Aurors?" Baldrick interjected.

"Yes," said Tom as he filled up two more glasses for the pair. "If you're staying, that is. They'll be looking for qualified recruits where they can. Melchett may be an idiot, but he won't make the same mistake Fudge did by feigning ignorance to the increase in attacks. Bones was widely tipped for the position before she was killed, and he knows it. He's got to hold the country together."

"Wish I had the same confidence in him that the system does," Blackadder muttered. "But rejoining... I hadn't really given any thought to the idea. But I admit it appeals to me. Especially if I could somehow get a more senior position."

"Blackmail, sir?" Baldrick whispered as Tom turned away to pick up a dirty rag to wipe the bar surface.

"You noticed the glint in my eye again, didn't you Baldrick?"

"Yes, sir."

They had finished their drinks, engaged in more conversation with Tom, and eventually left into Diagon Alley. The sun had fully set now; they had spent a good few hours drinking and discussing with the barman.

"One of the good things about Gringotts," remarked Blackadder as he marched down the empty street, illuminated only by dusty lamps hanging from shops, "Is that it is open twenty-four seven. Goblins rarely sleep; they are too paranoid for that, so we will be able to get our gold tonight."

"Sir? Where are the Daily Prophet headquarters?" asked Baldrick as he hurried along next to the long-legged Edmund, who was able to make almost inhuman strides with his gangly frame.

"Somewhere off the main Alley if I remember correctly," Blackadder replied, studying the various shop windows as he passed them; he came to a halt in front of one which had a huge flashing purple poster plastered all over it, with its bright yellow lettering providing more light than the rest of the street combined.

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" he remarked, with a small smile creeping across his face. "I bet you a Galleon that this shop is owned by those twins of Arthur and Molly's, Baldrick. They were little jokers when they were still in their cots. It wouldn't surprise me if they still were today."

They started moving again towards the massive marble structure of Gringotts. Two Goblins stood as security at the doors, holding large battle-axes crossed against each other, forming a barrier. As Blackadder and Baldrick approached, they stood rigidly and raised the axes; the doors swung inwards of their own accord and the pair crossed the threshold swiftly into the magnificent halls of gold.

Half an hour, and a terse discussion with several goblins, later, Blackadder had managed to transfer a huge sum of his Muggle wealth into his Gringotts vault; as a gesture, he had also deposited a smaller sum in Baldrick's, in case he required to buy himself a new mop. With gold in hand, they had journey to the Purple Serpent, the most exclusive and expensive hotel in Diagon Alley; Blackadder had only stayed once before, but he vividly remembered it as a tasteful blending of wizard and Muggle elegance, an area that would satisfy his needs adequately.

That was how he found himself, in the Purple Serpent's most expensive suite, in the morning, looking into the large mirror which he was ignoring as it passed a rather harsh judgement on his state of undress. He headed into the bathroom and exited some time afterwards, freshened up and ready to hunt down his quarry for the day. He gave the ornate room a sweeping glance, then slipped his long black coat on and slipped out of the door, closing it gently behind him.

Baldrick was hovering in the lobby as Blackadder descended the carpeted staircase towards the foyer. He nodded to their dogsbody, and they briskly walked side by side, out into the main Alley. They headed towards a small offshoot, between a wizardwear boutique and a cauldron store, a dead end obscured in darkness, enough to avoid prying eyes. They weren't taking any chances; there may have been nobody around in the Alley but Blackadder knew that as soon as his name came out into the open, he would have the Ministry and the Order baying after him. He wanted to stay as low-key as possible.

This was why Baldrick, the surprisingly better of the two at transfiguration, had altered their appearances. Gone were Blackadder's dark short curls, replaced by long flowing blonde tresses, something akin to the style of Lucius Malfoy. His face was longer and narrower, his nose had been reduced substantially and he had three weeks worth of stubble on his chin. Baldrick looked no different, but that was because no-one would recognize him or give him a second glance.

Blackadder produced his wand and muttered under his breath. The alley became even darker as it closed itself off at the end, leaving only a dim grey light from the clouded sky above.

"Sir?" asked Baldrick as Blackadder reached inside his coat and produced a small piece of apparently blank parchment.

"Yes, Baldrick?"

"How exactly are we going to find Remus? I mean, if he's with the Order, he'll be under Fidelius, won't he?"

"Don't worry about that, Baldrick," Blackadder replied as he tapped his and to the parchment; words began to materialize in a dark blue ink. "I picked this information up from some of the...seedier patrons of Knockturn Alley last night, when I said I was nipping out to buy a pipe and a pair of washing up gloves."

"But you came back with a pipe and a pair of washing up gloves, sir."

"Yes, I did. I didn't say it was an excuse, did I? Now, hold onto this parchment."

Baldrick took hold of the parchment, and looked at Blackadder. "Is this it then, sir? Is this the beginning of a whole new adventure?"

Blackadder gave a roguish grin. "It is indeed Baldrick. Let's just hope we make it to the end alive."

And with that, they both felt a tug behind the navel and vanished from the spot.

A/N: I'm back! Firstly, I'd like to apologise a ridiculous amount to all the people I've let down with this story. It started well over nine months ago, and hasn't been updated in nearly six, I think. A combination of dissatisfaction with the project, writers block, exams, holidays, loss of creativity, my personal life and a lot of other stuff meant that this little gem has been sidelined for far too long. The good news is, I've finally got round to posting another chapter! The bad news is, the next one probably won't even make an appearence before Christmas, although if I get everything sorted, expect it before Halloween. To all those who favourited/followed this story, I thank you loads. And to the single reviewer I have, I thank you even more. Reviews are much appriciated; no flame please, but constructive criticism is something I could probably do with. So, to all out there, hope you enjoyed this one! Next time, Blackadder meets Remus, Harry recieves a visitor and Dumbledore begins to get worried! So, stay tuned!