Little Steps
A/N: Thanks to all reviewers, favouriteers and followers. Harry Potter is not mine.
Poppy sprang into action as the alarm charm set on the infirmary for incoming Portkeys alerted her. It was still only summer, and so the only people who could have arrived into the infirmary were the teachers, all of whom had been handed the portkeys by the Headmaster. She was very shocked to see the very obvious evidence of battery on the Headmaster.
"Albus!" she cried in shock as she hurried over, simultaneously taking in the severity of the injuries – broken nose, a bruised elbow, several broken fingers, and wand splinters. Someone had taken Albus to the cleaners and it almost seemed as if he had, considering his age, barely escaped with his life, assuming he had left early. She quickly took care of the nose first, healing it with a deft wave of her wand, accompanying the spell, "Episkey!" At the very least, that would leave him as intelligible as it was possible for him to be while she asked him questions.
Dumbledore winced at the lancing pain of the healing spell as his nose painfully reset itself in a trice. Just because it was a healing spell did not mean it didn't hurt.
"Just what were you up to?" Poppy demanded. "What prompted you to get into a physical fight with anyone?"
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment. Then he replied, "Alas! Poppy, it was a particular failure of mine that has come home to roost. It was my mistakes as people see them for which it was seen fit to punish me."
With no other answer forthcoming and with all signs of him re-entering his contemplative mood, Poppy gave it up as a bad job. She healed the injuries, which, now that she had seen them, were fairly superficial, as if they were caused to shame him rather than harm him. She shuddered to think about the sort of person that could shame Albus. Once she was sure of his health and his recovery, she discharged him, leaving the old man to walk the path to his office in silence.
He wasn't sure, truly, about anything now. He had learnt that Remus, whom he had trusted, had ferreted out Harry's location with the help of the two people who had attacked him today. He could no longer truly trust Remus, for Remus' loyalty was first with Harry. It was obvious that Remus already knew about Sirius when he was in that very office the other day. Did he know about the Malfoys too? Perhaps they were a smokescreen to hide their successful tracking of Harry?
Dumbledore refused to believe that. He no longer trusted Remus as much as he did before, but the person who would work around lycanthropy to devote his time to his search for what could surely be called his only living family would never willingly harm a child. Did those two people who were with him do it?
It was likely, but it was only as likely as it was not. They did not use any magic whatsoever, though they surely knew about magic. Their sole intention was, in their eyes, to rescue Harry from his true family. They were probably squibs. So magic was probably beyond their abilities. Moreover, the man wanted him to use politics to decimate the Death Eaters, so he was willing to stay on the straight and narrow.
But they didn't understand! None of them could! As bad as it was, they were still...
And he paused. "As bad as it was," he murmured to himself. So many things came into perspective.
He rewound his thoughts to those about Remus' betrayal. As bitter as he was about it, he tried, truly, for one of those rare times in his life, to think about a matter from a perspective completely opposed to his plans. He did that often. What was rare was that he tried to feel sympathetic towards the opposing position.
If Remus had betrayed him, then he wondered what the man thought of him. It was patently obvious that he knew that Sirius was innocent. It was patently obvious that he knew that Harry was not loved. Dumbledore paused. Harry was – no, lived – in a cupboard under the stairs. It made Dumbledore uncomfortable.
As much as he wanted to be a good person, Dumbledore still had the desire to put his plans first. So he stubbornly almost ignored that.
Thinking back to Remus, he now knew that Dumbledore was complicit in both the cases. How could he not be? Sirius' innocence being proven was the responsibility of every conscientious person involved in the magical judiciary. He was as guilty of perjury, now that he thought of it, as he was of not ensuring that an innocent man did not suffer needlessly.
And as far as Harry and his family, for that was exactly how Dumbledore considered them to be, in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, he needed Harry to be there, now more than ever. The squibs and Sirius and Remus were not enough protection, certainly not as much as the blood protections were.
The whole matter, in truth, finally boiled down back to the person with whom it all started that Halloween night. This much he knew that till they could be convinced to send Harry back to his family, they would not hurt him. The woman had gone berserk, as had the man, when it became obvious that he was not being cared for as he should have been.
A warning trill sounded in the air. Dumbledore jerked up to see Fawkes glaring at him in a way that only a bird could. The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He did not want to be swayed from the path they were walking on.
"Fawkes, you have to understand. You do, don't you? Asking around for solutions will alert all the wrong people. If someone moves early and brings Voldemort back while the world hasn't yet recuperated, there will be no way in which he can be defeated now. For the Greater Good, keeping the scar intact..."
Fawkes trilled once more, this time his anger becoming evident.
"Fawkes, you know this is exactly why. I will tell you what I told Minerva that night. I wouldn't heal the scar if I could find the cleansing or the transference rituals." These were the rituals which were banned because of the fact that they were quite similar to the Dementors' Kiss or because of the aspect of Death truly knew them completely.
The next moment, he was clawed in the face by his familiar. This time, Fawkes' screech was scary and terrible and vicious – as much as it was possible for a phoenix to be that way. But for the man it was terrifying.
"You believe I am going dark? After all I have done, after all we have been through together you'd believe that of me?"
Fawkes just screeched again, almost in a challenging tone.
"What?" Dumbledore cried, flabbergasted.
Fawkes gave an affirmative trill. Dumbledore stared at the bird in shock for a few moments.
"But wouldn't it give him a ready source of power?" countered Dumbledore, worried, a little scared, but also slightly intrigued.
Fawkes warbled back in a somewhat condescending manner.
"Yes, leaving it a whole soul to corrupt would be disastrous indeed."
Fawkes sang a smug tone.
Dumbledore looked at the bird and then stood out to watch the stars. They were beautiful. "It is for the Greater Good after all," he proclaimed softly. "I presume you know how to do it?"
Fawkes sang out an affirmation.
Dumbledore was silent for a long while. "You will help me when the time comes?" he asked the bird somewhat timidly.
Fawkes trilled a soothing, calming, assuring trill.
"There is still the matter of protection," he murmured. "Maybe I can ask Sirius to look into it."
Fawkes alighted on Dumbledore's shoulder, singing a deep melody that carried over the grounds. It was the music of regret and of hope, and tinged with sadness and resignation.
Sirius' release the following morning was declared in a special broadcast on the WWN and in the evening editions of all the papers. It carried the arrested Peter Pettigrew's photograph, along with Mad-Eye who had caught him, and the whole bunch of things he had on his person being destroyed, including Voldemort's Wand. Dumbledore had made sure that his statement, "That is Voldemort's wand and he has had it since he was a student at Hogwarts. I have fought him to a standstill twice, and I would recognise it anywhere. A prime creation with a core of Phoenix feather, but it was used for only the most evil purposes," was published word for word.
In truth, however, the Ministry found it in its interest to hush the matter up as much as it could on the side of Sirius. The treatment of his release and his innocence was, in light of the information about Voldemort's wand and about Peter, rather perfunctory. They had, without him asking for it, compensated him, a bit excessively, and people were being excessively polite and deferential around him. It was so obvious a ploy to buy his silence and co-operation that he almost burst out laughing when Millicent Bagnold personally handed over the signed writ turning over the Malfoy estate to him as the closest living, non-criminal relative.
The truth was that nothing mattered. He was counting each second as he waited to meet someone whose safety, happiness and acceptance of him would wash it all away. He was accosted by a very familiar face.
"Remus," Sirius acknowledged tersely.
"You can call me Moony, or the Man on the Moon, you know, Padfoot," Remus replied mildly.
Padfoot's face brightened. It was Moony who'd found the traitor. "You knew?"
"No. I didn't actually. I will admit that initially I hated you, but a part of me didn't want to even think of you being capable of that. So instead I set about looking for Prongslet. I decided that he was the priority."
"You found him?" He didn't grudge Remus that. He had not trusted the man either, back then. And moreover, he had done just what Sirius would have wanted the man to do.
"A few friends did. I could never have entered where he was. There were Dark Creature Prevention Wards."
Sirius sighed gustily. He had seen the sort. Moony would have been incinerated. They also had to be removed entirely, to key even one person into them. He knew of only one person who would have placed Harry under such wards, and he didn't begrudge Dumbledore that. If Remus could have found Harry, so too could have someone like Greyback.
"Where is he?"
"My house," answered Remus.
"And these friends who found Pettigrew?" asked Sirius.
"It is not a story for this place and time."
Sirius nodded. He wouldn't badger Remus now. He had grown up a bit. It was the biggest misfortune that he had to endure Azkaban for that.
"I want to scoff at this and treat it with incredulity," Sirius murmured faintly as Ron and Hermione narrated their story. Harry had not woken yet, courtesy a small sleeping potion to help with the effects of a minor healing potion that Hermione had brewed.
"But then I have learnt to accept the improbable and it is all magic, after all...Thank you. Thank you, both of you for all that you have done. In spite of your troubles you didn't abandon Harry. I could have soldiered on, but the idea of the little pup there..." he trailed off as he shuddered. It was difficult for him to become acclimatised to human contact after his illegal incarceration, and he drifted off mid-sentence many times. Still, he held himself and his slightly scrambled mind together, long enough to stay with the discussion. He looked at the two and then at Hermione in particular. "Do you realise, incidentally, that in your perspective this is the second time that you have traversed time to save me?"
Hermione attempted a weak smile, but couldn't really manage it. So she just nodded.
"Once again, thank you. I cannot say that enough for all that you have done. I am tempted to make grandiose statements and fulfil any of your desires, but I'd like to think Azkaban has tempered that a bit."
"Will you let us be around Harry? You know, not cut us out, since you are the legal guardian?"
Sirius stared at Hermione as if she was mad. "Why would I do that?" he asked incredulously. "Apart from him recognising your younger selves when they and he meet at Hogwarts – and Ron, I am sorry, but as children are much more sensitive, I don't think it would be wise to have either of your younger selves meet Harry – I cannot see any reason why I should keep you away from him." It was the longest cohesive argument Sirius had made.
The two time-travellers nodded.
"At the same time, I want you to get help – the sort of help that I cannot give you. You told me that Harry leapt at the chance to see you both as surrogate parents. But it's been less than a week since..." he shied away from saying what he wanted to.
There was no polite or gentle way to say it. Ron and Hermione had been a whirlwind of action since being thrust into a past where they had no place as they were. It had been an easy way to reap angry vengeance to do something as they itched to do while not confronting the entire scope of their loss. It had not been just their children. Molly, Ron's mother had been murdered. Harry, the person closest to both had been murdered, though having his little self around had offset that. Everyone grieved in their own way, but the couple had not really faced facts as they stood.
Their family as they knew it was dead. And what were the chances of a similar future if they even wanted it?
"For what it is worth, I think Padfoot is right," Remus agreed. "You have done a lot. You have taken care of things. Let us now take care of you."
Through her rapidly building tears at the reminder, Hermione blinked in confusion before turning to see a similar expression on her husband's face. Then they realised. Remus and Sirius were treating them as the adults they saw them to be, while trying to keep in mind who they really were. That had to be confusing for the two young men.
Harry stared timidly at the man who was looking at him as if he were a cool glass of water on a hot summer's day, not that Harry thought that way. All the same, Harry thought he should know this man.
"Hello Harry," Sirius said at last.
"Hello," replied Harry.
"I am Sirius Black, Harry. I was, with Remus here, your father's best friend. We are both your real uncles."
"Are you the other friend...um...she told me about?" The awkward question was asked to Sirius, but was actually directed to Hermione. They hadn't yet worked out what he was to call them all.
"Yes I am."
"Did you also look me?" asked the boy with sad eyes.
Sirius crumpled upon himself. He reached out and grasped the tips of Harry's fingers. It was about as much human contact as he was yet comfortable with, and he could still grab Harry in a hug because it was Harry. Coincidentally, it was also all that Harry was comfortable with.
"No puppy," Sirius replied sadly. "Did they tell you that a very bad man killed your mummy and daddy?"
Harry shook his head. "I was sleeping," he answered lowly. It was his mistake.
"That is okay," Sirius answered reassuringly. "I was supposed to care for you if that happened. I am your godfather. But that night, I was very angry. We had one more friend, and he told the very bad man how to find your parents. This friend would have hurt you too, so first I wanted to catch him. But he told everyone that I told the bad man how to find your parents. So they put me in jail. It was very bad."
Harry looked at Sirius with something that Sirius decided was understanding. "When Dudley pushed Maggie Boswell from the stairs, he told everyone that I had pushed her. They put me in my room for two weeks."
Having heard what the room was, exactly, Sirius worried that he was going to explode with anger. He was such a small child, was his little godson. Why did he even have an analogy for the experience? So he reached out and tentatively drew Harry into a light hug. Harry wriggled a bit as he tried to get away, and Sirius released him without saying anything about it.
"It's alright pup. Now we are all here. We won't let anyone punish you."
Harry nodded. Then he asked the question, as far as Sirius was concerned. "Why do you call me puppy?"
Sirius smiled broadly. He didn't consider the fact that Harry had not been actually introduced to magic. "It's a magic thing you know. I always thought of you like my own kid, and there is a very special thing I can do. Do you want to see?"
Astounded at being asked for his choice, Harry dumbly nodded. Sirius stood and transformed into Padfoot. Harry stared at the dog. The dog stared back, its tongue hanging out. Then the little boy said a word that became a new Patronus memory for Sirius.
"Pafoo..."
