Mischief Managed

Rating: T

Random AU clips. Sirius raises Harry.

Although these are so far disconnected, I may, in the future sometime, decide to make something more of them.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

(focuses on Sirius and Harry's relationship- no romance there, just godfather, godson.)

I-Curiosity in Knockturn (begins during the summer before second year)

As Harry glanced over his shoulder, he happened to spot someone outside that he clearly recognized, yet with much distaste. Peering very discreetly over a window display of a leather bound text and a quill floating above it (there was a bright sign that screamed at shoppers, Stop here before Hogwarts!), he could see them clearly. There were the Malfoys (Draco and Lucius), both with incriminating smirks upon their faces, as was their custom, and there, where they had just disappeared into, was Knockturn Alley.

He had heard all about Knockturn Alley, of the legends and lore surrounding it. In fact, he had heard so many stories from other wizard children of what went on inside of it that he was unsure as to which were credible. Some said there was an exchange business of foul and illegal potions. Other said Grindewald's still-loyal followers oozed from the cracks. One story Harry had heard, although this one he discredited immediately, entailed a rather villainous, ancient warlock that castrated curious wizards for his powerful brews.

Well, it was a curious enough attraction. Adults would say to their children 'never go there' but give no reason. Sirius had been firm in this action. Never go there, Harry. Ever. Harry would swear that was the most vague explanation anyone had ever given anything in his entire life.

Whether it were dangerous tales to strike the imaginative fancy, or supportless admonitions to beware, Knockturn was, no exceptions, forbidden.

Then, why were the Malfoys entering Knockturn Alley? If only the worst of folk went there, then why were they so stealthily stealing onto its streets?

Now Harry was not sensible, as someone like Hermione might have been in that situation, and he certainly was not afraid, as other wizard boys of his age might be. These missing traits led to the creation of his specialty- mischief.

Glancing at Sirius, who was in the midst of flipping through Harry's new books with dislike, tempted to scratch out all of Lockhart's pompous, curly signatures off the inside covers, he knew that now was his chance if he were to follow the two Malfoys. Sweeping out of the shop as quickly as he possibly could, he followed them into the foul, shadow-filled alley of Knockturn.

Dusty shop windows glared down at him like unappeased, savage gods. The stench was unbearable, the immediate thing Harry noticed when attempting to breath in the musty air. It smelled like one leaving old meat to rot on a doorstep, after even the flies have finished with it. And who could have thought the summer to be so foggy and cold!

Most appalling, even above the stale darkness, was the people. Everyone on that street spoke rarely, perhaps in hushed whispers, and when they did speak it was in very few words. And it was sorrowful! The way the hid! Perhaps if the light touched them they would have melted into the grimy sewage that littered the streets!

"You little boy!" a woman shrouded in a black, lacy veil cackled hoarsely. Her nose protruded out past her face in a hag-like manner and her brow was stitched as one mass of evil expression, like a thundercloud. "Some thumbs? Some toes for the little boy, perhaps?"
"N-No thank you," replied Harry quickly. In his haste to escape from her image, he tripped over his shoes and fell against the shop door, which, to his relief, gave a great advantage to eavesdropping.

The two Malfoys had entered this polluted shop. He could see them in the window, hear them very minimally speaking in hushed tones about items that they wished to sell back there. This puzzled the boy. What could the Malfoy's have possibly had that this hell-hole of a store would want to buy? Then he heard the phrases "Ministry raids" and "objects create false suspicions..." Every few moments, to Harry's delight, Draco received a slap on the wrist for touching valuable objects in the store and interrupting with trivial matters.

There was suddenly talk about Harry himself, Draco's obvious jealousy. "Potter's got a 2000…what does that say about me when Potter's got a Nimbus 2000 and I've only got a Cleansweep?" This gave a swell of joy in the boy's heart, even more so when Lucius proceeded to shove him a bit with, "Draco, I'll beat you with a Nimbus if you say one more word about it-"

Hearing something scurrying in the corner he was now reduced to hiding in (as Draco and Lucius left the storefront), he quickly emerged onto the street with the crowd, who eyed him with dark looks. They all still stood under overhangs, in ditches, inside hoods. Although they seemed gloomy and separated, they gave Harry an eerie feeling that they were banding together to…to… stalk him. Like prey.

The feeling became so strong that the boy began to pick up his pace, walk quicker, all the while glancing over his shoulder with a feeling of disquiet. He began to move so fast that he was running…running and running until-

BAM.

Harry was kneeling on the ground, rubbing his scar and scrounging the ground for his glasses. Everything was blurry. His heart was pounding with a sickening rhythm as a hand reached for him and grasped him around his neck. He was reduced to screaming and kicking, but to no avail. As he fought to set himself free, the only thought that flickered into his mind was Don't castrate me! Please don't put me into your evening brew!

"Petrificus totalus!" a voice called sharply.

Harry fell to his knees as the old woman froze in her standing position. He glanced up into Sirius's eyes and felt them sear like embers. He had to look back down.

Staring down at the now limp figure, Sirius bit his lip, sheer distaste figuring into his features. Giving the body a slight kick with his left foot, he grabbed Harry by the elbow and shouted 'Enervate!' As the body regained its consciousness, the two were already heading out of the alley and down the lane toward Diagon. They could hear the crowd far back behind them whispering and pointing. This stopped Harry and caused him to become very distracted, but Sirius did not stop. Something strong, perhaps ancient from a deep past, forced him to not even look back, Harry at his side.

They grew quiet, Sirius refraining from any sort of outburst as if their lives were in some sort of…danger. Wrenching him harder by the arm, the two passed a tiny, dusty shop with an array of bones and bubbling cauldrons in the window. When Harry had shot them a questioning look, only then did Sirius open his mouth, in a whisper. "A draught of death…The deadliest potions ever brewed, I'll suppose."

Window after window prevailed just as ugly, and by now Harry had a clear view. Sirius had slowed their pace and seemed to be just as cautious, if more. He seemed to be, was it lost? Coming up to a shop door, he still had the boy by the shoulder, he knocked three times, taking care to wipe the grime onto the inner pocket of his robes afterward. A small, grungy horse stood outside of the door, stamping its hooves and neighing ridiculously loud. It was tethered very loosely and was attempting to claw free by running in a circle every few moments.

Sirius knocked once more and he could see a little old man limping his way over to the counter. The horse neighed again and Sirius turned to it bitterly, "If I had a horse whip."

"I thought you liked animals," pointed out Harry.

Here Sirius laid one more blow of his sarcasm. "It wouldn't be for the horse." Now Sirius Black was not a calm person, nor was he rational, level-headed, or, well the picture is clear enough. The fact that perhaps his sarcasm struck a nerve or two in the boy's angry side never touched him. This was a great disadvantage in communicating, well, anything at all to the boy. Every word of reproach he ever said seemed jargled enough to sound like a punch line to a missing joke, simply out of context.

The little old storekeeper shook his head at opening the door and pointed to a 'closed' sign. As they were refused inside, Harry rolled his eyes and could not restrain from mimicking in a higher voice 'it wouldn't be for the horse!' and adding 'go to hell!'.

"What did you say?" shot back Sirius, abruptly ending his conversation through the glass with the store owner, who, by whatever principle, would not unlock the door. He turned on his feet to face the boy, who was consequently petrified to the point of dumb silence. "Exactly what I thought you said." He stood there on the foggy street and glared him straight in the eyes.

Harry swallowed. He knew he was in for it this time. Luckily for the boy, however, Sirius delayed his reproach until later and faced the true problem at hand- finding a floo system. "Hang on, I've got an idea…" Taking out his wand he quietly cut loose the rope that tethered the animal to the post. As it neighed in a frantic hurry and tossed its head, the storekeeper darted out of his dingy shop on his scrawny, elderly legs, shaking his fist at it to return.

"Run. Now." And here Sirius took him by the wrist and the two sneaked their guilty selves inside of the store and through the floo system.

"Honest," begged Harry as they each took a handful of the powder. "I'll never go back there again!"

With a drop of the powder and a serious tone, Sirius replied, almost gently, "I know, kid. I know."

When the shop owner returned, breathing deeply with exhaustion while feebly attempting to flog his horse, he somehow let their absence slip by unnoticed.

...
((End of this one...more to come!
Please review. Input Critisism welcome (wow, im sorry, the one word I've just randomly never been able to spell correctly...) I'd like to think of this whole writing thing as a learning experience (a fun one...) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Happy Easter!))