Chapter Two: Arrival
The evening was looming closer and closer, and with it the party Harry was dreading. He was sure it would be fantastic to see friends like Hagrid, Lupin, especially Sirius, but the thought of meeting up with Cedric Diggory filled him with a feeling of incredible uneasiness. He knew that Hermione had been right before, about the bond. Even though he hadn't seen Cedric in months, he constantly found himself thinking about him, what state he was in, how he was coping. However, those weren't feelings he was willing to confront in any way.
On the other hand, he knew nobody, except for Dumbledore, who had survived an intimate meeting with Lord Voldemort. It was kind of nice that he wasn't the only Boy Who Lived. Now there were two. And the fact that it made him less special oddly made him feel better. Less... alone.
At least one thing to celebrate today, Harry thought, looking in the mirror and trying desperately to run a comb through his hair. It was a daunting, hopeless task. He gave up and just changed into a white shirt Mrs Weasley had ironed for him. She didn't necessarily understand Muggle clothing, but she certainly knew how to make it look good. That was real magic.
"You ready?" Ron asked, buttoning up his own shirt. "I can hear the vein in my Mum's forehead pumping, we're so late."
"We're not late," joined in Hermione, who had been ready for at least half an hour, dressed in a simple knee-length green dress. She was flipping through her History of Magic notes, a long and tedious reading for everyone who wasn't Hermione Granger. She seemed very intent on finding the cause of Harry's nightmares, even though he was absolutely sure that no magic was actually involved in his ailment. Just stress. And weird, confusing feelings. Feelings all around. "The party doesn't start for at least forty-five minutes."
"Which means we're an hour late," said Ron frustratedly.
"Calm down, Ron." Harry tried to tie a tie around his neck but failed miserably. He threw it away and sighed heavily. His hair was a disaster and he was seemingly getting a pimple on his forehead. "You'll be with Hermione and me, there's no way your Mum's telling us off tonight. You're safe."
"Definitely," Hermione said, though it was apparent she wasn't paying attention. "Yes!" she exclaimed suddenly, her voice clear and triumphant. "I knew it was here and I finally found it. Harry, I think I've found the answer to your problem. I'll just be a minute, I need to cross-reference some of those things, write down a chart to be able to explain it to you and have my parents mail me another book and I'll tell you everything! I'll... I'll be right back!" She stood up and ran out of the room excitedly, leaving her friends dumbstruck.
Ron looked at Harry and grinned widely.
"You reckon she's ever going to tell us anything before running to the metaphorical library?" he asked, amused.
"You know Hermione. When in doubt – get a book," Harry replied, mostly amazed that Ron knew the word 'metaphorical'. Spending the summer with Hermione was clearly paying off.
"What's..." Ron scratched his head, probably wondering if he forgot something important that he had already been told, as he was wont to do. "What is your problem anyway and why haven't you said anything to me? Or... have you?" His voice got comically high on those last two words.
"I, uh... I've been having nightmares. Voldemort, death, you know." Harry decided to leave the stuff about Cedric out. He didn't want to give Ron a wrong idea about the nature of his dreams. "Nothing dreadful. Nothing I can't handle." Suddenly, a thick, oily silence hung between the two of them as Ron was looking at him suspiciously. Harry clapped his hands together and motioned to the door. "Come on. Let's get downstairs before your Mum Avada Kedavras both of us."
"But you said I was safe with you," Ron whined pathetically, apparently forgetting about his friend's dreams. Which was the goal Harry was aiming for.
"Yeah, I lied," he said. No one is ever safe with me.
They went downstairs and – after some trepidation on Ron's part – entered the de-gnomed garden. It was decorated with streamers in every colors, balloons were floating around in the air, completely on their own, as if led by an invisible hand holding an invisible string. Even the chickens had been magically dyed purple and gold. There was a small pavilion in the middle of the garden, under which a gigantic table was Transfigured earlier today from just a tiny splinter of wood. There were seventeen table settings and a huge, glistening dog bowl the size of a bath tub. Harry wondered about it for a second before a giant black dog jumped on him, leaving muddy paw prints all over his white shirt. He laughed and petted the dog's snout.
"Hello, Padfoot!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly elated. "Why are you..." he began to ask but when he realized that speaking was not possible while in animal form, he turned to Mr Weasley, who was standing off to the side, watching silently with a sad smile on his face. "Why is he a dog?"
"Our guests might arrive any minute now," Mr Weasley explained. "And while Molly was... persuaded to let a wanted fugitive come over for dinner, I'm afraid Amos and Victoria Diggory, as nice as they are, won't be so inclined. So Dumbledore decided that Sirius be allowed to visit you, as long as he doesn't show his true colors, so to speak."
"Ah," said Harry, crouching to give Padfoot another pat on the head. The dog licked his face vigorously. "Makes sense."
"I suppose it does. Ron, go help your sister with the flowers, would you?"
"But, Dad..." Ron started, but Mr Weasley cut him off.
"I need to speak to Harry alone. I'm sure he'll tell you everything later, but this way I won't be lying to your mother when I tell her you weren't anywhere near this conversation."
As Ron walked away, muttering vile curses under his breath, Harry grinned. He had always admired Arthur Weasley's parenting technique. His good mood faltered, though, when he saw the expression on Arthur's face.
"Harry, I'm afraid I must insist on reminding you once again not to speak openly about what happened at that graveyard." Mr Weasley's voice was stern and commanding. He knew then and there that this order had come straight from Mrs Weasley and as such, was to be respected. "You and Cedric know, I am sure Ron and Hermione do as well, do they?"
"O-of course," Harry stammered for a second. "Should I not have told them?"
"Dumbledore would have forbidden you to tell them if you hadn't been supposed to. That's not the point. We are all well used to the fact that the three of you tell each other everything. I think that's fantastic but the important thing is not to blurt anything stupid out in front of Ginny, the twins or Cedric's parents. We don't want them to know." Padfoot barked loudly in total agreement. "Not yet, at least. Got it?"
"Sure, Mr Weasley," Harry confirmed. "It's not like I'd want to talk about Voldemort at a party."
Mr Weasley shuddered at the mention of the name that must never be named. After a second, the older man placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder and left him alone with Sirius. Harry petted him once again and started to walk over to the table, but the dog barked once again and ran inside the house. He followed it begrudgingly. Suddenly, he didn't really feel like talking to anybody.
When he walked into the kitchen, Sirius was leaning on a counter, wrapped in a long black robe, concealing his nakedness. He smiled upon seeing Harry and hugged him tightly.
"It's good to see you, my boy," he said. Harry reciprocated the smile and the embrace. It was so comforting to be embraced by his own godfather. Even though that godfather was practically nothing but a glorified stranger. Next to the Weasleys and Hermione, Sirius was the closest thing Harry had to a real family. The Dursleys, naturally, did not count as such. "How have you been?" Sirius asked after letting Harry go.
"Good. I, uh... Yeah, good."
"What are you not telling me? And be quick about it, we don't have much time before your guests arrive and I become a house pet again."
"I... It's nothing, really, Sirius. I've just been... restless, that's all."
"Well, that's only natural after what you've been through. But you should be proud, not restless. You stopped Voldemort from coming back, for the third time. That's something to celebrate."
"I don't feel like celebrating," said Harry, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more. "I constantly feel like something bad is going to happen. And soon."
"It is, Harry." Sirius's voice got really grave all of a sudden. In an instant, a joyous godfather disappeared and a convicted fugitive returned. "Bad things happen all the time. Everywhere and to everyone. But it's not your fault and it's not your responsibility. You need to remember that or you will go mad."
"Yeah, Hermione thinks I'm already going mad." Harry regretted saying that instantly. Sirius's pupils dilated as he leaned in closer to the boy.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I've been having nightmares. About..." He stopped talking for a second, contemplating. "About Cedric Diggory dying."
"Cedric Diggory is the boy who was at that graveyard with you?" Sirius asked suspiciously.
"Yes. And I'm sure those dreams are just that, dreams. But Hermione seems to think someone might be feeding them to me to drive me insane."
Sirius scratched his unshaven chin, relaxing a bit.
"Well, that wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. But it's highly unlikely. You shouldn't worry too much." It was apparent that Sirius himself did, in fact, worry.
"I don't!" Harry felt obligated to exclaim, for Sirius's benefit and his own. Unfortunately, even he didn't believe that declaration.
Sirius smiled wearily.
"I have a birthday gift for you." He reached into one of the pockets of the robe he was wearing and produced a small mirror, unwrapped in any sort of way. Harry appreciated the simplicity. "Use it whenever you want to contact me. It'll be easier and faster than sending an owl and..." Harry heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. Sirius must have heard them, too, as he quickly smiled once again and changed back into a dog in a flash. When Mrs Weasley entered the room and spotted the dog, she rolled her eyes.
"Pets aren't allowed in the house," she said icily directly to the dog. "Harry, dear, would you please show Padfoot the way out?"
"Sure, Mrs Weasley," Harry agreed, but didn't really have to, as Sirius ran out of the house, barking loudly and happily, surely just to spite the woman who so obviously despised him. "Do you need my help with anything? I could... carry stuff to the garden. Or something."
"No, dear," Mrs Weasley replied, looking at Harry's hair disapprovingly. She smiled, visibly resigned, deciding it was a hopeless cause. She had tried so many times to bring any order to Harry's hair, to no avail. "It's your day. You just enjoy."
"Thank you. And Mrs Weasley... Thank you for letting Padfoot come. It means a lot to me."
She smiled at him.
"I know, dear. I just hope he wiped his dirty paws on the doormat before he came inside. Now, Harry, go and enjoy the party."
He nodded and left the kitchen. He went upstairs to the room he shared with Ron, looking from time to time at the small mirror in his hand. What was it? And how did it work? Sirius didn't explain anything to him. Surely he would. But still, Harry wondered how in the world was it possible to communicate with another person through a mirror. After four years spent in the magical world, he still found things that amazed him to no end.
When he entered the room, he heard a soft shuffle and then saw Ron and Hermione sitting on Ron's bed, right next to each other, both intently staring at walls, their faces growing consistently redder. He fought to suppress a smile, absolutely sure that he understood what was going on before his entrance.
"Were you two kissing?" he asked playfully, suddenly amused.
"Harry, that's preposterous!" Hermione said, indignant, standing up and smoothing over her dress. "We were, uh, we were discussing those dreams you've been having."
"Right," he replied, beaming. "So what conclusion did the two of you reach?"
"No..." Ron coughed. "No conclusions yet. Still work at progress." He winked at Harry behind Hermione's back. Harry's grin got even wider.
"Alright, then." Hermione headed for the door. "Let's all get downstairs, the party's about to start."
When she left, an elated Ron walked up to Harry and patted his back.
"I'm totally one to kiss and tell, so... She and I... We're snogging."
"Yeah, I got that impression," replied Harry, putting the small mirror on his end table. "We'll talk about it. At length. But later."
Then, he followed Hermione to the garden with Ron right behind him. He was slowly getting tired of the mood rollercoaster he was on, but was glad that at least at this particular moment he found something to feel happy about. And then, right then, when he was finally somewhat glad, they walked out of the house and his heart sank deeper than it has in a long time.
"Hello, Harry," said Cedric Diggory, standing right in front of him and smiling. "You look well."