Harry Potter was confused. It was the end of the summer and he had escaped the Dursley's for the sanctuary of the Burrow. He and Ron had whiled away the last two weeks practicing their flying with Fred, George and Ginny. Ron was getting quite fast and Harry thought privately that he would have a good shot at making the team the coming term. If he did it may raise a few eyebrows in Gryfinndor, with three Weasley's on the team, but then again he came from a family of accomplished Quidditch players. Harry would definitely welcome him as, as he found last year with the Triwizard tournament, Ron sometimes resented the attention he got as 'the-boy-who-lived.
Anyway Quidditch was far from his mind now as he sat on Ron's bed, Chudley Cannon posters waving and smiling at him. He had received a very bewildering letter from Sirius several days before, and he held it open now in his hands for at least the fifth time that day. He read the words carefully, as though trying to uncover a veiled message that may give him some inkling into Sirius's thoughts.
Dear Harry
I hope that you have had a good summer.
As you know the order have set themselves up in my old home and I request that you visit me before you go back to Hogwarts. There is something that I need to speak to you urgently about. But, and this is of grave importance, Harry, do not under any circumstance discuss the contents of this letter with any. Simply tell Molly that I have requested that you visit me by Floo powder at the first opportunity.
Some, and unfortunately Harry refers to our trusted friend Dumbledore, may think me unwise to tell you what I must. But please trust in my motives – I will explain all when we meet.
Your loving godfather
Sirius Black.
Harry almost crumpled the letter in anger. What did Sirius mean? What was so important that he was forbidden to even tell Ron or Hermione about? What concerned Harry as much as anything, however, was whether he wanted to know something that Dumbledore did not approve of. It would feel somehow wrong. He wondered if it had anything to do with the conversation that he had almost overheard at the end of last term. Sirius had mentioned 'Grace' and Dumbledore had silenced him. Snape too had snorted when Dumbledore had said that Harry would be told when the time was right. Perhaps Sirius thought that that time was now.
He sighed in frustration. He knew that Sirius often acted rashly. Twelve years in Azkaban could do that to a man. When you have your freedom taken away for as long as Sirius had Harry supposed that it made you reckless and somewhat defiant. From the stories he'd heard about Sirius and his father Harry knew that Sirius had been reckless and defiant as a young man, but it seemed to have intensified in his character after his stay in the wizard prison. Perhaps it was the frustration and agony of serving time for a crime that he had never committed; seeing his friends, particularly Harry's parents, fall at the hands of Voldemort and yet being able to do nothing to bring the perpetrators to justice - worse, being tarred with the same brush as the notorious death eaters. Harry had always respected and admired Sirius's passion; but still going against Dumbledore's wishes? That seemed too far even for Sirius.
Harry's musings were interrupted by Hermione. He had hidden himself away in the room he shared at the Burrow with Ron to read the letter and he jumped as she entered the room, quickly shoving it under the red and yellow striped duvet.
'Honestly Harry, you'd think that Ron and his brothers had the brains of peas. All they've done since I've got here is talk, eat and drink Quidditch! As if that's the only way one can occupy your time when we're just about to start a new term.'
Hermione said this with such haughtiness that Harry had to suppress a smile. He knew that if Hermione had been any good at the game she would be the first one on her broom in the morning and the last one to dismount at night. The things she enjoyed she took very seriously.
'What are you doing anyway,' she said giving him a slightly suspicious look. Harry was suddenly aware that he must look very strange – his hand was still tucked deeply into the duvet and his glasses were crooked on his nose from his sudden action.
'Er, just doing a bit of reading,' he muttered trying to avoid Hermione's gaze. She had the uncanny ability to read him like a book.
'Really? What?' Harry's mind worked furiously to think of one of the texts they had bought for school at Diagon alley the day before.
'Advanced potions,' he said quickly, then immediately gave an inward groan. Potions was hardly his favourite subject, why couldn't he have said Advanced Quidditch tactics or something?
'Really?' Hermione said cocking her head to one side and giving him a quizzical look. 'Which bit?'
'Er – sleeping draft formulas?' It was more of a question than a response.
'Harry, there's no such thing as sleeping draft formulas. It's a very straightforward potion.' She stepped closer to him and before he could prevent her grabbed the duvet and pulled it away, wrestling the letter from his grasp. As her eyes scanned the scrawled note quickly her forehead wrinkled in perplexion. 'What's this?' she said.
'I would think that it's pretty obvious,' Harry said with a touch of annoyance. He was angry that he had allowed himself to be discovered so easily.
'Harry! It sounds really serious. I mean what's Sirius thinking about even contemplating telling you something that Dumbledore doesn't want you to know?' She stood hands-on-hips waiting for him to respond. He looked sulkily away.
'Maybe he thinks I'm old enough to deal with it.'
'Harry, it's not about being old enough. It could be something that might put you in danger.'
'You think that Sirius would 'put me in danger?'' he spat back. If Hermione wanted an argument she was going the right way about it in his opinion.
'He might not … realise,' Hermione said lamely. 'Anyway he's got no right to go behind Dumbledore's back. And asking you to keep it from everyone else? Harry you need your friends around you now that Voldemort's back.'
Harry got to his feet incensed.
'So now Sirius is in league with Voldemort is he?'
'Don't be ridiculous Harry,' Hermione retorted, stung. 'I just mean that – well – secrets are no good for anyone.'
'I trust Sirius,' Harry said stubbornly, 'and so should you.' He got to his feet and held out his hand for the letter:'Now if you don't mind …'
Wordlessly Hermione placed the letter in his hand.
'And I would appreciate it if you didn't run to Mrs Weasley and tell her exactly how Sirius is planning to have me killed by Voldemort!'
With that Harry stormed from the room. He knew he was being unreasonable, but his pride wouldn't allow him to back down. Hermione had touched a nerve. It was mainly frustration that angered him – as deep within his mind he suspected that Hermione, as usual, was right. But Sirius had been mistrusted since he was confined to Azkaban and Harry wasn't about to let him down now. Red-faced he made his way to the garden where Ron, Fred and George were still playing Quidditch in the early evening sun. Flying was what he needed to take his mind away from his meeting with Sirius and his argument with Hermione.
