23.
Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he stared. His uncle's face was the most sincere Harry had ever seen it. Sirius wasn't ONE for slowing down and sorting through emotions; that was more Remus' area. But here he was, drawn back in thought.
Harry swallowed. He could go to Hogwarts. He would fight with his mum later, he knew it, but for now he was too relieved to care. "How'd you—what?"
"We talked to her," Sirius repeated. He jumped down off the dresser. "It'll be a lot of hard work for you in the mean time, and you'll have to go as 'James', but—stay put for a sec," he said, and pushed the whole thing, boy and all, back against the door.
"What did you say to her?"
Getting back up, Sirius leaned back against the door. "That's better."
"Siri, I mean it. Mum never takes anything back. Ever."
"Now you're being silly," said Sirius. "Of course she does. And she's not used to being wrong, but she'll admit it when she is. Lily just doesn't like hurting people, Harry; that's why she's a healer. She likes helping people deal with pain and getting past it. Anyone with half a heart could see she'd stepped over a line with you."
"Wouldn't you be angry, if your mum had said you couldn't go?"
"Oh, I would have been livid. But my mum wouldn't have had any good intentions keeping me back, would she? Your mum is honestly trying to protect you. And Harry—it's not your fault at all, but it's very difficult to keep you safe."
"I think it's ridiculous," Harry muttered. "Honestly, don't people really think that Harry Potter—that I'm some sort of miracle? They don't want to hurt me, just make me into some sort of weird hero thing."
"You haven't seen the half of it, kid. Idolizing someone can be just as harmful as demonizing them, and since people are idiots, there's not really much difference."
"Still," said Harry. "I—I really don't think most people care. Mum's just so excessively focused on how terrible the world is. I just want to go to Hogwarts and have friends and learn magic, and mum would rather build Azkaban two-point-O to lock me up inside."
Sirius flinched, but put his arm around Harry's shoulder. He wondered if he shouldn't have used Azkaban in his metaphor, no matter how many times he had thought it. The prison was, after all, the one thing Sirius wouldn't talk with him about.
"When his parents died," said Sirius softly, "James changed. It wasn't a bad thing—maybe you could say he finally grew up a little." He stared off into space for a moment, then laughed, though nothing he had said had been funny. "Well, maybe it was about time. James had always been the most outgoing, confident Gryff there ever was. But after his parents died, he got… quiet."
"Quiet?" Harry echoed. The idea hardly fit in the picture he'd been painted of his father by the stories; practical joker and repeat offender for the title of idiot, cocky brat who didn't know when to hold back a little, intensely caring and fiercely protective all the same.
"I think he finally understood what it meant to lose someone. His parents had been pretty old when he was born, and they'd been his only family growing up. I know you might not see it this way, but for most kids, parents are… immortal. Unshakable. Like them or not, they're the picture of strength and adulthood."
"Even yours?"
"To some extent," Sirius said. "But for me, your Dad's parents were the only ones I really looked up to. Maybe all four of us grew up a little when they died, I dunno. But James changed the most."
Harry's hand stung. He had almost forgotten about it. He must have made some sort of sound, because Sirius pulled out of his musings and gave him a glance, which turned into a rueful smile. Harry swallowed, and forced himself not to move to look at his injury, letting Sirius think Harry was following his train of thought. He'd seen this quieter side of Sirius before, of course, but he was used to the man who had spitefully put dirty muggle magazine cut-outs all over his walls as a kid, who chased Harry and Holly around the house and caught them by jumping over banisters to get ahead on the stairs, who shouted at the telly when he lost to them in video games.
"When we lose people close to us like that, we change," he said now, his voice soft. "I changed, when your dad died. I don't think there been a day that something hasn't happened to make me miss him. Remus changed. And your mother…"
"What was she like, before?"
"Smiled a lot more. And always believed the best of everyone. Innocent until proven guilty, and then forgiven by a tear."
Harry thought about their conversations about Dumbledore. It had been almost ten years since his dad died, and not for a moment had she relented in her anger. He didn't understand what he could have done that was so bad, because You-Know-Who had been the one to kill James Potter and Dumbledore had been trying to stop him, but he didn't think Lily would ever forgive the wizard. And he thought about the way she always told off Remus when he lost another job after having insisted that everything was going well. No matter how many times he said the new boss was different and would understand his susceptibility to illness was out of his control, he would eventually come back without a job and get into a shouting match with Sirius and Lily over having said nothing. "Mum hates people like that."
"I don't think she hates them. I don't think she hates anyone, really, kid. But… she thinks she was naïve, before, and worries about people like that. Worries they'll lose as much as she did."
"That's stupid," Harry said. He thumped his good hand on the dresser's edge. "It's better to believe the best of people, right? It's what always happens in the books. Someone you think can't be trusted at first is really the hero all along. Like Strider."
"Strider?" Sirius echoed.
Harry had forgotten, in the wake of his uncle's mature moment, that Sirius didn't read his muggle novels the way Remus did. "Aragorn. Everyone is skeptical of him, but it turns out he's the last in the line of the kings of Gondor."
Sirius laughed, and reached up to ruffle Harry's hair. It wasn't wet anymore, the boy realized—how long had he been asleep?
"Right. Maybe Remus should be talking to you," Sirius said, and paused. "It's not always that way, though, Harry. You can't just go around trusting everyone. Your mum just wants to keep you safe, and that's harder with you than most."
"I thought it would be harder for Holly. That's why we have to keep her a secret, right?"
"It could be, 'specially now that its been so long. But she's a pretty well-kept secret, isn't she? So it's easier to protect her, because no one would go out of the way to try and hurt her."
"But they'd try to hurt Harry Potter."
Sirius sighed. "I know, kid. It sucks. Some people are ridiculous."
"So is it safe for me?" Harry asked. "At Hogwarts. I mean, I want to go. More than anything in the world, I want to go. But is it safe?"
Sirius thought for a bit longer than Harry had expected. "Well, Hogwarts is the safest place in the world."
"That's convincing."
Sirius messed his hair more, which would have annoyed him if it weren't such a mess already. "Don't be a brat, kid," he said, in a tone that suggested Harry should strive to be even more bratty whenever he got the chance. "It really is the safest place, unless you want to be locked up in a vault in Gringotts. Nothing from the outside world can get in, if its not wanted."
"What about things that are already there?" Harry asked, thinking, again, of Dumbledore.
"Well," said Sirius, thinking of something else. "Those things are everywhere."
The man sighed and climbed down off the dresser again. "Come on," he told Harry. "Will you help me move this hunk of junk? You can come back in here and hide again if you'd like, but we should at least wrap up that hand of yours, or something. And maybe some dinner?"
Harry felt his stomach churn and got down. He wasn't entirely satisfied with breaking off his protest so simply, but he'd only had half a chocolate bar. He was hungry. "What time is it?" he asked.
"Half past seven. Your mum and Holly brought Chinese food back when they went shopping."
"Half past seven?" That seemed wrong—it had been ten, maybe ten thirty at the latest when he'd gone downstairs, and then—how long had he been asleep?
"Yeah. Are you going to make me do all the work, kid?"
Harry helped Sirius shift the dresser up to the rug, then slipped his much smaller body between it and the wall and tried to help push. It wouldn't budge. They moved, trying to get both Harry and Sirius pushing, then pulling—but Sirius quickly gave up, pulled his wand out, and levitated the dresser back into place. "Honestly, are you keeping bricks in there?"
"There's books in the bottom drawer," Harry admitted. Lily had tried to make him keep the books stored in the library, where she said they could be kept orderly, but Harry enjoyed reading into the late hours of the night, and, being a child frequently woken by bad dreams, liked to have options on hand to distract himself with.
"Ugh," said Sirius. "You and Remus are both mental. Books?"
They made their way up the stairs, passing by the library on the mezzanine where Holly was sprawled on the floor playing Nintendo, and up another level to Sirius' and Remus' room. It had been Sirius' parents, he had told Harry, but Remus downright rejected staying in the room that teenage Sirius had plastered with scantily-clad muggles. So they had completely gutted thesuite, and Sirius had dug into the Black vaults in order to replace the outer wall with floor-to-ceiling magical windows looking out on a forest somewhere, like they'd done with the kitchen ceiling.
Remus was reclining on the bed—reading, of course—when they came through the door. "Oh," he said, dropping the book to his lap. "Hello, Harry. Feeling better? You told him, right, Sirius?"
"Of course I told him," said Sirius. "But he'd already broken an unbreakable mirror, and moved an impossibly heavy dresser without magic."
"Really?" Remus said. "How did you break the mirror, Harry? We tried to get the irritable one out of the loo up here when Sirius was fixing it up, but had to settle for a silencing charm…"
"I punched it," said Harry.
Remus blinked at him, but, in a most un-Remus-like response, cracked a smile. "You know, your dad broke his hand on one of the mirrors in our dorm by punching it. Even when we all tried reparo, there was still a long crack going through. I wonder if the urge runs in the family."
"Well, let's hope Harry didn't break his hand," said Sirius. "Do we still have those bandages in there?"
Remus sat up. "You're hurt."
Harry held up his swollen, multicolored hand sheepishly. "I mean, it could be worse. I thought the glass would shatter, and that—that would've probably been bad."
"Decisively so," Remus agreed, swinging his legs off the bed to hurry into the bathroom.
Sirius conjured up a few extra armchairs by the window wall, and waved Harry off towards them before following Remus. Harry sighed and sat down. He should have known Remus would be alarmed—his hand looked a lot worse than it felt.
"Sirius, have you—"
Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Lily in the doorway. She stared back, mouth frozen open before she forced it shut in what he imagined was supposed to be a friendly smile. "Harry, love. Feeling better?"
Harry's uncles came out of the bathroom, looked at each other, and split, Remus carrying the roll of bandages towards Harry while Sirius faced Lily. "Did you need something?" Sirius said, his voice sounding strangely cold.
"Oh, nothing important," said Lily, stepping into the room and towards Harry. "Is someone hurt?"
"Harry just bruised his hand a bit," said Sirius. "Nothing important. Can you tell Hols the room's open?"
"Harry?" said Lily, ignoring Sirius and stepping closer. Harry felt his shoulders stiffen and lift towards his ears, and that dark feeling that had burned in his stomach that morning was rising up into his throat. "Let me—"
"Don't touch me."
The words left Harry before he could even realize what he was saying, and Lily stepped back, mouth and eyes wide. The hand she had reached out towards him pulled back to her chest, and for once his mother looked very small. Harry blinked, but he wasn't going to stand down. The thought of his mum healing his hand like nothing had happened between them made him feel sick.
"I'll go get Hollis off the games," she said after a long moment, her voice a shell of what it had been before, and she turned to flee the room.
"Can I have your hand?" Remus asked, when her footsteps had disappeared down the stairs. Harry felt like a punctured balloon deflating. Remus handled his hand gingerly, making Harry really look at it. The bruise had spread out from his knuckles and swelling fingers towards his wrist. "You're lucky your fingers aren't too damaged, though…"
Pain flared, making Harry's vision blur white. He must have yelped, because Sirius was at his shoulder in a heartbeat. "Are you alright?"
"His index finger must be jammed," said Remus. "Hopefully nothing worse."
"Well, stop poking it! You'll make worse!"
"Sirius, I barely brushed it. Hand me the cream?"
Sirius passed Remus a vial Harry hadn't realized he had been carrying, which was filled with a thick green gel that looked like viscous jade. Remus uncorked it and tilted the vial over Harry's hand, so it slipped out onto his finger.
When the gel hit his skin, it was as though his hand had been turned into a sandwich baggy filled with cool water. The pain that had been burning was doused, and the swelling seemed to be no more than extra air. In the sudden clarity Harry realized the extent of the pain he had been ignoring. He blinked, watching some of the bruising retreat as Remus' gentle hands spread the gel around.
"Okay," he said faintly. "Maybe it was worse than I thought."
"Naw," said Sirius, his voice strained high. "It's not too bad. You should see when quiddich players get hit full-on by bludgers. There's an injury to wince at."
"He's just trying to avoid reality," said Remus. "Which is that he should have brought this up here the moment he realized you were hurt."
"Um, aren't I the one to blame for that?" Harry pointed out. "I mean, I was the one who hurt it, and that was ages ago, and it's my hand, anyways…"
"No, Harry," said Remus. He picked up the bandage and started wrapping it around Harry's hand, forming a beige mitten.
"You're not to blame at all. I don't think it was your goal to hurt yourself, and either way, you're not to blame for being injured. But we're supposed to be taking care of you, kid," Sirius agreed as Remus wrapped. He ruffled Harry's hair. "How 'bout I grab you something to eat? Chow mein sound good? Or something else?"
"Chow mein is fine," said Harry. Anything to get Sirius' hand away from his hair. "And maybe an apple?"
"Sure thing."
Remus tucked the end of the bandage in, and Harry took back his hand. The gel's soothing effect was starting to wear off already, but the bandaged was one of Lily's, so the pain only came back as a dull ache. "Harry," Remus said softly. "Are you alright? Really? You're not one to get angry like that."
Harry set his hand in his lap, turning to look out the window. Between the dark trees, he could just make out a deer walking in the distance. "I'm just sick of it," he mumbled. "Her trying to control everything. I—I just want to be me. Not have to carry around my whole life like a secret."
"I know what you mean," said Remus, just as softly. "And Harry—I want to warn you, because you're a mature boy, and I don't think it would help at all to say otherwise: it's not going to get easier. Anywhere you go as Harry Potter, you're going to have to tuck yourself away and put on the Boy Who Lived face. Anywhere you go as James, you're going to see the differences between who you are and who you're pretending to be, clearer than ever."
"How am I supposed to live like that?" Harry demanded. "How is anyone?"
"You learn to bear it," said Remus. "The alternative is worse." He paused, and laughed softly. "Of course, you end up finding people you can really trust and care about. And they make all the difference."
Harry tilted his head. He had thought—vaguely, in the sort of 'fill-in-the-gap' type way he was prone to doing when the adults were not saying things—that Remus was referring to his and Sirius' relationship. According to Lily, for the most their sort of relationship was frowned upon by magical society; though it was completely ridiculous for anyone to be cruel to someone for being in love, of course, it was something that happened and Sirius and Remus had to keep their relationship mostly undefined for the sake of Sirius' job and both their safety. But that didn't seem to be what Remus was referring to. "You mean Sirius, right?" he asked.
"Sirius, and your dad, and your mum, of course," Remus said. "Oh, but what am I talking about? Come on, Harry, we had better make sure Sirius hasn't broken the microwave again."
"He just ran away because he was flustered," Harry pointed out. "He's probably not even gotten the food out of the fridge."
"Probably not," Remus agreed. They headed down the stairs. Harry tensed a bit in front of the library door, but neither his sister nor Lily were there. "You know," Remus continued, "When you were a baby, Sirius was absolutely useless. Any time anything went slightly wrong, he and your dad would panic, leaving Lily and I to clean up the mess or burp you or get you to stop crying."
Harry rolled his eyes, though he could feel his cheeks pink at the thought of himself as a baby. "He was that way with Holly, too. Remember when she fell off my broom?"
Remus laughed. Sirius had given Harry a broom that would hover a few feet off the ground, and when Holly was two she'd tried to use it. Holly didn't have the natural sense of balance that Harry did, though, and even though the broom was designed for safety she had still managed to fall off. "He just about screamed as loud as she did," said Remus.
"Who did?" asked Sirius, as they came into the kitchen. He was holding a plate of chow mein, which appeared to be cold, and an apple already sat at Harry's place at the table.
"You," said Remus, walking over as Sirius set down the plate to kiss his cheek. "We were remembering when Holly fell of the broom."
"Harry," said Sirius, a bit too quickly. "Here's your chow mein, and the apple. I couldn't get the stupid my-crow-wave to work, so—" He pulled his wand out an waved it vaguely, sending a bolt of red light at the plate. The noodles, absorbing the light, started to smoke, though they didn't appear to be on fire. "Well," said Sirius dubiously, poking one of them. "They're probably fine."
Harry shrugged and sat down. Remus went into the cooking area and came back with a can of coke, three wine glasses, and a bottle of red.
"Why did dad punch the mirror?" Harry asked after Remus poured their drinks. He liked the way Remus always put his coke or juice in a wine glass. Sometimes he did it for Holly, too, but not nearly as often as he did for Harry.
"What?" Sirius asked.
"Rem said dad broke his hand punching a mirror. Why?"
Remus picked up his glass and swirled the wine around in it. The bottle was something muggle, from the logo, which was clearly a digital production, so he had probably brought it home from work. Remus always preferred to provide things himself, Harry had noticed. It seemed rather odd, that they lived in this big house and Lily and Sirius clearly had the money to help Remus out, yet he always refused if they tried to buy things for him outside of his birthday or Christmas.
"It was fifth year," he said. "So it was probably something with your mum. I don't really remember."
"No," said Sirius, "It was after she fought with Snivellus."
"What?" Remus frowned, tilting his head to one side. "I think I would remember, if it were that."
"A few days after," Sirius insisted. "When he tried to ask her out again. He'd been on top of the world, since then, remember?"
"Oh, you mean when he had assumed—and she called him a right git."
"Mum called dad a git?" It was strange; mostly when they talked about his parents' relationship it was after they'd left Hogwarts, when they were married and a pair of inseparable lovebirds. But when they talked about their time in school, it was hard to imagine they'd end up that way, from how his dad was always trying and failing to impress Lily. It was like a terrible romantic comedy, where everything his dad did seemed to make him fall flat on his face.
"Too many times," Lily said from the cellar door. "But he deserved it. He was such a brat at that age."
24.
Harry picked up his fork and poked the chow mein. It didn't look so bad, and it had stopped smoking, so that was good. Lily took the seat next to Remus on the other side of the table, and topped off the men's wine before taking a swig straight from the bottle. "And you're still not allowed to call him Snivellus, Sirius. He has a proper name."
"Come on, Lily," Sirius whined. "He's even an worse git than we'd ever thought, he said it himself. Remus, back me up."
"I'm with Lily. Name-calling is just as immature now as it used to be. And there's no need to stoop to being a git yourself, love."
"Don't call me love, you traitor."
"Who's Snivellus?" Harry asked.
"Severus Snape," his mum answered. "A friend of mine, when we were younger. The first person with magic I met. He teaches potions at Hogwarts."
Sirius snorted. "Teaches is a very generous term, as I've heard it."
"Fine. He glares disapprovingly while everyone else fails to follow unspecified instructions." She took another swig of wine. "Either way, he was my friend, and James failed to understand how I could associate with Severus over him. But James was a spoiled brat, up until he was what, sixteen? Seventeen?"
"After you moved in with him, Sirius," Remus said. "I think that's when he started to get his head on straight."
"We probably all did, around then," said Sirius. Remus patted his hand, and Harry saw it stay there, resting on top of his other uncle's.
"Sirius, your head will never be straight, love."
"Then neither will yours."
Lily cleared her throat, took another drink, and set down the bottle. She crossed her arms and leaned forward on the table, looking directly at her son. "So, Harry," she said. "Sirius told you that I'm willing to let you go to Hogwarts."
"Yes," Harry said. He knew what was coming was the If. There always was an If, when she was trying to play herself as giving someone what they wanted.
"If," she said, "You can prove to me you'll be able to keep that you're Harry Potter a secret."
"So what am I supposed to be, then?" Harry asked. "The whole 'James' thing works in France, sure, but who exactly is going to look at me, hear the name James, and not think of dad?"
"Well," she said. "If it's too difficult, you don't have to."
Harry glared at her and dug into his noodles. They tasted slightly smoky, but otherwise were basic overly-greasy takeout Chinese.
"So," she continued on. "You'll go as Jamie Jeannot at school. And you're going to be Sirius' nephew-his actual, if illegitimate, nephew."
Jamie. Like that was so different from James.
"You want to pretend like Regulus had a kid?" Sirius said. "No offense, Lily, but he died when he was eighteen."
"Which would put him at having just enough time, in his post-graduation trip to France ,to make a bad decision with a local girl and end up with an illegitimate son."
"It could work," said Remus thoughtfully. "After all, since you're Harry's secondary guardian, Sirius, any genealogy charm would put him as attached to the Black family, but not as part of the main line. That's about as detailed as I know of."
"What about Holly?" Harry asked. "She'll go to Hogwarts too, right?"
"Of course," said Lily. It made Harry slightly angry that she answered without hesitation, as though there'd never been any question about the matter, but Holly wouldn't have to fight to get to Hogwarts the way he did. That was definitely a good thing. "She'll be your half-sister, though. This will take a bit of work with a mixed polyjuice, and maybe we'll change your nose, because we'll need to make it seem you got your looks from me, but as long as you keep the scar disguised and don't start messing up your hair, there shouldn't be a problem."
"Like that'd ever happen," Harry muttered. He'd seen the pictures of his dad in school. Apparently he had thought that having a bird-nest atop his head was somehow cool. Though Harry's hair was naturally as wiry as his dad's had been, he found it's natural look absolutely ridiculous, especially when it was the matter of a potion his mum could easily brew for him to change the texture. This was especially useful when considering that several magazines over the years had tried to use photos of James as stand-ins for photos of Harry, which simply did not exist, so everyone expected him to look even more like his dad than he did—identical, even. It was how they got away with traveling so much.
"Well, it's not going to be like going to school in France, Harry," Lily said. "You'll be living at Hogwarts. That means you won't be coming home in the evenings or flooing here to Grimmauld Place on weekends. Every hour of every day, you will have to be living as Jamie. No one can ever know otherwise."
"But why not?" Harry asked. "Why can't I just go as Harry?"
She opened her mouth, but got caught up in staring at him and then had to take a swig of the wine. She set the bottle back aside and folded her hands. "Because it isn't safe," she said simply. "Albus Dumbledore is a shrewd chess master. He knows You-Know-Who will be back, and he'd leap at the chance to sink his claws in to you, I guarantee it. You won't even know you've been used until he's sent you to your grave. If you go, you're going to have to do everything you can to keep away from that man, Harry. He can never know who you are."
"I'm going," Harry said firmly. "I don't care if I have to take polyjuice every morning. I'm going."
"Then you're going as Jamie."
"Shouldn't he use a different name?" Sirius asked. "Like he said, it's so close to 'James'…"
Remus shook his head. "Harry's used to being James. It's much easier to pass when you respond to a name automatically, and no matter how hard you try, you sometimes just don't register pseudonyms. It's a dead giveaway."
"But what did Dumbledore do, mum?" Harry asked, ignoring his uncles. He wanted answers, not to let them sidetrack the conversation, or he would never know. "You're always on about him, but I don't know why, do I?"
Lily sighed. She pulled out her wand and waved it at the ceiling. Nothing happened right away, but she seemed unbothered. "You know what happened to James," she said, matter of fact, because she had made sure of that. Harry let his head tilt a bit, so the frames of his glasses crossed his vision right in front of her eyes. "You know that everyone thought that Sirius was our secret keeper. Dumbledore was the one who set the fidelius for us, originally."
"But you changed it," Harry said.
"Yes, but—"
She was cut off by the door opening. Across the kitchen sailed something silvery and formless, what looked to Harry eerily similar to the liquid of a pensive. Lily caught it and for a moment seemed lost in stroking the strange cloth. When Harry tried to lean forward, to get a better look at the runes that seemed to shimmer on the surface, she stood. "The fidelius wasn't our only line of defense, of course," she said. As she spoke, she swung the cloth out behind her, and it seemed to wrap around her body—but it was hard to tell, for where it covered, her body disappeared. Harry blinked. It was like looking at a section of a photograph cut out and dropped into another. The edges were impossible, but they still were. That was magic.
"An invisibility cloak?" he asked.
"It's been in James' family for ages," Sirius provided. "You should have seen the trouble we caused…"
"Thank you, Sirius," Lily said harshly, and took it off again. She sat, playing with the cloth in her hands again. "There were several other levels of protection, of course," she continued. "But this was our last line of defense. When Dumbledore set the fidelius, James happened to show it to him. He got very peculiar then, and asked if he might borrow it to run some tests on the charms, just for a few days."
"So... it wasn't there on Halloween," said Harry.
"Exactly," said Lily.
"But are you trying to say that was intentional?" Harry asked. "Because I mean, if Dumbledore really wanted You-Know-Who to be able to get to you, then there would have probably been easier ways."
"It doesn't matter whether it was intentional," said his mum. "It does matter that he felt no guilt whatsoever over the fact that he had the cloak."
"Lily, you don't know that for sure," Remus pointed out. "And he did try to apologize."
"Which he doubled up with a plan to use Harry as some sort of pawn for his political schemes!"
"Wait, what?" Harry asked.
Sirius was the one to answer, this time. "Remember the Misitry Gala? Fudge hosted that to get more political support, which Dumbledore was also interested in. He wanted us to raise you in the public eye," he said. "He said it was unfortunate that your life would be like this, but if Lily and you would support him, he could gain more power with the Wizengamot."
"So, what, he could become minister?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure how the elections for Minister for Magic worked, let alone the structure of the Wizengamot, but he was sure they were tied somehow.
"Probably not," his mum said. "No, more likely he would have wanted someone who would go along with his political plans. Dumbledore doesn't like to do things directly, you see. He likes to send other people to do the dirty work, as though he has the right to judge whose life is valuable and whose is not."
Harry took another bite of chow mein, and chewed it slowly, pondering the way his mum was framing the man. "I don't get it," he said at last. "Isn't everyone's goal in politics to get someone whose politics agree with theirs in power?"
"When you give a man like Dumbledore power, he thinks he has an inherent right to use it," said Lily. "He was the head of the Order of the Pheonix, the group that was battling Voldemort. And Harry, I don't mean to paint any one of us as a devil or a saint: it was war, and choices are difficult. Somehow you have to balance protecting those closest to you and trying to fight for the greater good. It's not easy."
She paused long enough to drink more wine, and hurried on, her words becoming rushed onto each other. "Dumbledore lacks caution. You would think, after he lost so many people to poorly timed battles and ill-executed strategies that he would have learned. But he just kept pushing people forward. He doesn't stop to let people breathe…"
"The Finns were first," Sirius said.
"The Finns?"
Remus sighed. His and Sirius' hands had flipped, so his was against the table, and Sirius gave his a squeeze. "They had a little girl," Remus said. "She would have been a few years older than you. But Mrs. Finn was muggle, and Mr. Finn had insulted Bellatrix Lestrange to her face. Dumbledore thought he could use Mr. Finn to provoke her, but…"
Sirius hissed into his wine. "My bitch cousin. She was the one who got Reg in with the bad crowd. And she was the one to get the Longbottoms—not to mention Roberta McKane…"
"The point is," said Lily, "Dumbledore made miscalculations that got people killed, and instead of learning from them, instead of showing any guilt or remorse, he kept sending everyone else charging headfirst into danger, while he was safely behind the lines. Oh, he'd fight if someone cursed him, but no one ever got close enough, did they?"
"So... why is he running Hogwarts, then?" Harry asked. "If he wants political power? I mean, it's a school."
"Young minds are impressionable," said Remus, as though that cleared anything up.
"No matter what, you can't give him any power over you, Harry," Lily said. "Dumbledore has to believe that you are not Harry Potter. And—well, it would be better if you, as Jamie Jeannot, wanted nothing to do with Harry Potter. Obviously, as Sirius' nephew, you would know yourself, like a cousin, maybe. But we don't want to give Dumbledore a reason to try to use you to get to you."
"That makes no sense," Sirius grumbled. "He has to dislike himself so he won't be used against himself?"
"Exactly," said Lily. "There's nothing strange about the concept, what aren't you getting?"
Harry and Sirius shared matching blank looks. "Well," said Remus. "That was the most jumbled use of pronouns I've heard in a while."
"Your sister should be safe," said Lily, carrying on and ignoring his uncles. "We've done very well at making sure no one knows that she exists. If she's Jamies' half-sister, there's absolutely no reason anyone should be interested in her."
"That's just mean," said Sirius. "Of course people have reason to be interested in Holly. She's a wonderful, sweet girl."
"And a brat," Harry muttered, but he agreed with Sirius. When she wasn't being a brat, Holly was much sweeter than most of the girls her age, at least back at the muggle school, and he couldn't imagine anyone being anything but interested in her.
"Well, if you do end up being two years ahead of her, I expect you to be keeping an eye out for her," said Lily.
"If?" Sirius asked. "Isn't that the plan?"
"Yes," said Lily, "But if something goes wrong, we'll have to pull Harry out, of course."
Harry blinked, and jabbed at a piece of what was probably tofu. Of course she would have something to hang over his head like that.
"Enough of that!" Remus said suddenly, standing up with a smile. "Harry, would you care for a game of chess?"
"Sure," said Harry, standing up. He hadn't even gotten close to finishing the chow mein, but it wasn't much of a waste, considering the smoky flavor. He carried it to the kitchen proper, dumping the extra into the trash and putting the dish in the washer.
"At this hour?" Lily asked. The wine bottle was nearly empty by now, and she swirled the last of it around the bottom.
"He wasn't out most of the day," Sirius pointed out. "So now's a good a time as any."
"Alright," Lily said dubiously, before downing the rest of the wine and standing up as well. "You should be going back to bed, though."
As Harry walked by to join Remus at the door, Lily reached out to him. Harry flinched away. He didn't want contact with her. He hurried up the stairs as quickly as he could, leaving his mother staring after him.
22.
Holly sat down on the chair her brother favored in the library. She turned, trying to put her legs up over the armrest the way he always did, but she couldn't understand how he thought that was comfortable. It squished her legs up into her stomach and her chin down into her chest, and the armrest did not quite line up with her legs properly when she folded them. She gave up and swiveled, her legs running straight up the back of the chair and her head hanging back down off the front edge of the cushion.
It was just after six thirty. Mum had sent her to the library after dinner, but without Harry it was not that interesting. Unlike her brother, Holly's interest in reading lasted about five minutes before she got bored. Normally, she could pause and pester her brother, but he had to go lock himself in their room, didn't he?
Besides, except for the two bookshelves Harry and Remus had filled, most of the books in the Black library weren't fiction, which meant she was supposed to ask her mum before reading them. But mum was in one of those distracted moods, and that made her unpredictable. When they'd gone out shopping, at the first store it had been useful, because she hadn't looked twice at what Holly was choosing. Normally she'd only let Holly get one t-shirt; this time she'd got three. But then at the next store, she'd flat-out rejected a skirt for having sequins on it, and then when the shopkeeper had commented on how cute one of the others she'd chosen, Mum had pulled her out of the store in a rage. So if she asked Mum about reading a book, she might not care, or she might set Holly cleaning her potions lab. Unlike Harry, she wasn't allowed to touch the ingredients, except to scrub them off the floors.
She could play the Nintendo, except like the books it just wasn't as interesting. So instead she flopped over the chair and moped.
No one would tell her why Harry was angry. All she knew was that he'd set off stupid Walpurga for a good half hour while Mum had locked herself in the cellar to get their potions ready, and then when they'd gone shopping she had only said that Harry was throwing a tantrum. Well, that was obvious. Half of London had probably heard him shouting. No, half of Europe. She hadn't seen him that angry since… since…
"Holly," Rem said, sticking head through the door of the library. He looked really tired, but he always looked tired, so it's not like that was odd. "Did you get enough to eat?"
She nodded, then rolled off the chair so she could see him properly. "Is Harry out yet?"
"No," he said, his smile breaking. "But we're going to have a talk with your mum."
"What did she do?" Holly asked. Remus opened his mouth, closed it again, and went back to smiling again. It was a poor apology.
"You'll have to ask Harry later," he said. "It's not really my place…"
"That's stupid," Holly said. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Siri wouldn't tell me either."
"Sorry, Hols."
Remus went away, and Holly pouted some more. But then she got an idea, and crept over to the door. She would have to move very slowly to not creak the stairs, but if her mum and uncles were having a chat, she wanted to hear.
She could hear them by the time she reached the landing outside of their room. She went down to the first mezzanine and stuck her head out through the bars of the railing, leaning forwards so she could see down to the ground floor and open door, and maybe hear a bit better.
"I'm trying to keep him safe!"
That was mum. Holly didn't really understand the whole Boy Who Lived thing, because no one would ever explain it to her, and since Harry thought it was all a joke anyhow she couldn't really ask him. All she really knew was that it involved someone called You-Know-Who, which was a useless name because she didn't know who. And somehow it had to do with her dad being dead, and somehow it meant that Harry had to be protected and even though she was Holly Potter she had to go as Holly Jeannot.
"Lily, you can't protect him forever."
She didn't think she'd heard Remus' voice that loud since the time he'd yelled at Harry for jumping off the mezzanine landing. Mum, however, seemed to take it in stride—"He's just a boy, Remus."
"That doesn't mean you can lock him up forever!" Remus shouted. "You can't keep him away from the world. The more you try to hide him, the harder it's going to be, when he returns."
"You think we're just going to stay here?" Mum snapped. "I'm not going to leave my son to be caught up in things. The first sign of change, we're gone, Remus. You know that."
"So you're going to keep him shut away in the mean time, just in case?"
"Lily," Sirius cut in, "Try to be reasonable. He's waited his whole life for this, and James would have—"
"You're not his father, Sirius!"
"Well neither are you!"
There was a long silence. Holly leaned as far in as she could, her shoulders pressed up against the bars of the railing, in case they were saying something quiet, but they weren't. It was just silent.
This conversation was doing nothing to clear up her confusion. It was obvious that Sirius wasn't Harry's dad, and it was even more obvious that Mum wasn't. Were they talking about hiding in France—or Hogwarts? Yes—that was it—it was obvious, really. Mum didn't want Harry to go to Hogwarts. Why, Holly couldn't imagine—but that had to be it. What else could have possibly made Harry so angry?
The realization hit her with a spark somewhere between dread and relief. Harry, I don't want you to go. Well, she was getting her wish, wasn't she? She wouldn't be stuck with just mum and her moods for two years, but Harry would hate her forever, if her wish was to blame…
"Lily," said Remus, breaking the silence. "I—I'm with Sirius. I don't know we knew him better, but we knew James longer, and he would never have kept Harry back. There are charms, and precautions, and ways, Lily. You think we don't want him safe? You think I don't understand?"
Let him go, Holly thought as fiercely as she could. Maybe she couldn't do magic the way Harry could, and maybe none of them listened to her but just this once—Let him go!
"Fine," Lily said. Her voice was shrill. "Fine! You want him to go to that—that place so bad? Fine. Can you promise me he'll be safe?"
"Lily—"
"Can you?"
Sirius was the one to answer. "You give the kid too little credit. He's your son, and James'. He'll make it work. You want him to go as James? He'll go as James. You want him to hide under the cloak and go to school as the invisible kid? He'll make it work."
"He'll go as James, if he goes at all," Mum says. Holly can barely hear it, turning her whole body to squeeze a little more. If she were Harry, she'd find a way to magic her way forward, but he was the one who could find a way to do anything he wanted. She was with Sirius: Harry could handle—whatever it was Mum wanted of him. He always had.
"Fine," said Sirius.
"And you'll take time out of your evenings to talk to him about being undercover, Remus."
"Me? I'm not sure—"
"Remus."
"Of course, Lily, but—"
"And you'll convince him that it's important?"
"Why me?"
"He listens to you. If you had told him he couldn't go—there would be none of this."
"I would never tell him that. There's always a way, Lily. Dumbledore proved that to me."
There was another long silence, then Sirius said—"I'll go tell him, then."
"Fine," said Lily.
Holly's breath caught, and she tried to pull her head back, but her chin hit the bars. Sirius came out through the door and seemed to look up at her right away. He stared for a moment, but his hard face broke into a slight smile, and he waved his hand slightly. "There's still some of dinner left, right? He's probably hungry."
Whatever the response was, Holly didn't hear it, because she was too busy extracting her head and running back up the stairs. At least it was Sirius, not Remus, she thought as she fell back into the chair. Remus would have told Mum, but Sirius would keep quiet. After a moment, she turned on the TV and Nintendo, just in time for Remus to pass the door on his way back up.
So Harry would go to Hogwarts, she thought, heart beating fast as it sank. He would leave her behind, all alone in the manor in France, the ocean between them only more literal than the ocean between Holly and the rest of the world.
She swallowed the feeling that was choking up her throat, and started a new game. Two years, then she could go to school herself. She'd prove it—she didn't need him, if he didn't need her. He was only her brother.
Less of a roller-coaster ride this time, perhaps?
Thank you all for keeping up with this story, and I'm glad you're enjoying it. Unfortunately, this marks the point where my updating schedule is going to get a bit less consistent. I'm going to aim to update at least every other week, what with finals and, after that, the mad dash to apply for internships, and hopefully at some points it will come after only one week, but I may have to take a hiatus if the school/work/writing overlap is too much. I will try to update on Sundays still, since that seems to be working for me.
Thank you all so much. Until next time!
