Monday evening, Harry went together with Hermione and Ron to the end-of-year feast. Despite arriving well before it was scheduled to begin, the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin Serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.
Most of the professors had not arrived yet and the students, left alone, were making quite a racket. One had to almost shout to be heard a few seats down the table. Harry slipped in a seat between Hermione and Ron at the Gryffindor table, already excited for the feast.
Not long after, the professors arrived, headed by Dumbledore. The babble died away.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two points; in third, Gryffindor, with three hundred and sixty-two; Ravenclaw has three hundred and seventy-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, before we proceed with the celebration, I have some last-minute points to dish out."
The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.
"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "Let me see. Yes...
"As I mentioned on Saturday, several students' participation in recent events deserves a reward, however small an acknowledgement of their bravery it might be.
"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but it can be equally daunting to stand up to authority figures in order to protect our friends. I therefore award fifty points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
This was followed by loud cheering from the Gryffindor table, especially from those who realised that the additional points now put them in second place, a mere sixty points behind Slytherin. Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never before earned a single point and was so overwhelmed at that point that he burst into tears.
Dumbledore smiled again and raised his hands. The room gradually fell silent again.
"I do not wish to raise any undue hopes," he went on and the Great Hall went very still. "I will say that for a while, I did consider rewarding the other students involved with House points as well. However, on further reflection, that seemed insufficient. Points are awarded to students for participating in school life, to encourage them in beneficial pursuits – and discourage at least some rule-breaking." He nodded towards the Weasley twins, who made a show of feeling honoured.
"But how can we use points to encourage students to go so far beyond their duty? No student can be expected – or encouraged – to render the sort of outstanding service to this school and all its inhabitants as those three students demonstrated only a few days ago-"
Gryffindor cheers rang from all sides, interrupting the headmaster. He raised his hands again and waited for the noise to dim.
"Whatever their exact reasons may have been, it was not for house points that Mr. Weasley demonstrated the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, or Miss Granger showed the use of cool logic in the face of fire and it certainly does not account for Mr. Potter's pure nerve and outstanding courage.
"I discussed how to reward them with the board of governors and we have – almost unanimously – decided to give them an Award for Special Services to the School-"
The din was deafening, as even students from other houses began to cheer and applaud, interrupting Dumbledore once again. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!" Hermione, meanwhile, buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Harry, Ron and Hermione were encouraged from the surrounding students to stand up while being applauded from all sides.
"And here it is," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, presenting a shield-shaped award. "This will be given its deserved place in the trophy room tomorrow morning."
The applause got even louder, with some students actually getting up to give them a standing ovation.
It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at quidditch, or knocking out mountain trolls, or potentially winning the House Cup...
The feast continued. Slytherin received the House Cup, while McGonagall shook Snape's hand with a resigned smile. For a moment, Harry let himself consider what it would have been like, had Dumbledore decided to reward them with house points. The Great Hall decorated in Gryffindor colours, watching Snape having to congratulate McGonagall instead...
There would have been some things he would have enjoyed, Harry had to admit. However, Dumbledore was right. He and his friends had not faced danger for points. They did what they did despite the threat of being expelled. Draco Malfoy already looked dissatisfied with how the feast had shifted from celebrating Slytherin winning the House Cup to congratulating Harry and his friends for winning their award. He did not need another reason to justify his prejudices. The same went for Snape. The Slytherins could keep their cup – at least for another year – Harry amended. The Quidditch Cup would have to do until the following year.
Classes were barely out the next day, when Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves in the trophy room. They were not the only ones, either. They had to wait to take a close look at their award, while a few older students were doing the same. Some more congratulations and awkward questions later, they were staring at the award with their names on it. There was not much to see, but none of them were in any hurry to move away.
Remembering something all of a sudden, Harry looked over to where the quidditch trophies were displayed.
"Hermione, did you ever look up Sirius Black, by any chance?" he asked.
Hermione hesitated just a fraction of a second too long before she said, "Ah, no. No, I couldn't find anything about him." And then, as Harry turned to look at her, she flushed, prompting him to raise his eyebrows.
"Harry, I don't think you want to know," she said quietly.
"Come on, Hermione. Now I'm curious. How bad can it be?"
"Yeah. You can't just say something like that and not explain," added Ron. "Remember what I said? I think he was working for you-know-who. So what could be worse?"
"He – he was a spy," Hermione began hesitantly. "It wasn't easy to learn about him – nothing in any of my books. I wouldn't have found him at all, but Madam Pince let me look through some of the more advanced books before the exams. And there I read – Oh, Harry, he was the one who betrayed your parents' hiding place to you-know-who. And then, he killed a bunch of people after you defeated you-know-who and they found out he was a spy... Harry? Are you all right?" she asked, noticing that Harry had turned away.
"What a git," said Ron. "Didn't Filch say he was friends with your dad?"
Harry nodded without looking at them. "He must've been, I guess. How else would he have known where..." He broke off.
"I was wondering if I would find you here, Mr. Potter."
The three friends turned around. McGonagall was walking towards them from the entrance.
"I just... I wanted to tell you – all of you – how much I regret that I made it impossible for you to come to me for help-"
The adolescents began to deny that.
"No, no. It's true, I'm afraid. But I'm glad you didn't let that stop you from trying once again-"
"We already knew Snape suspected him, that's why..." Harry said as a sort of apology for asking the head of their rivalling house for help.
This was followed by a slightly awkward pause. McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well, it is what it is. I just wanted to let you know that, should there be a next time-"
Her students were quick to assure her that they would ask her for help if they needed it.
McGonagall, having done what she came for, looked around, ready to leave and finally noticed where exactly they stood. "This is not where your award is kept. Couldn't you find it? It's over there-" she began to point in the direction of their award.
"Oh, no, we already found it," Hermione said.
"We just-" began Harry, unsure what explanation to give.
"Oh, of course," McGonagall said in a choked voice. Her eyes were glued to the names on the Quidditch Cup in front of her. "Oh, that was such a wonderful year. Your father did an outstanding job as captain. Everyone on the team adored him. It was such a celebration – secret though it was meant to be – but I didn't have the heart to interrupt them-"
"Yeah, we were so surprised when we found out about Black," Ron blurted out thoughtlessly. "That a Gryffindor – and a quidditch player – could do such a thing..." He shook his head.
"There is no keeping secrets from you, is there?" McGonagall said fondly. "Oh, but I wish you hadn't felt the need to know all that much about your Godfather, Mr. Potter. Not that it's not perfectly natural that you'd be curious about him, but-"
"My Godfather?" Harry's voice sounded off to his own ears.
"Yes – Oh, didn't you know? But I thought-"
"We knew what he did – what he was sent to Azkaban for – and that he was friends with Harry's dad-" said Hermione.
"The best of friends. Always. Ever since first year. That Sirius Black of all people... I'm sorry to say we were all wrong about him. Mr. Potter, please don't let this get to you. He shouldn't be allowed to get to you in any way, and I wish I hadn't told you any more about him-"
"Don't worry, Professor. I won't. He's not worth a second thought." Harry smiled bravely, reassuringly, and McGonagall bought it. She took her leave of them and left.
His friends were not as easily deceived, of course. They hung around him and tried to distract him. But it was no use. Sirius Black would not leave his thoughts. In a move similar to one that had proved helpful several months back, he turned to his friends for help that evening, after dinner, when they were relaxing in their common room.
"Do you know how to send a letter to Azkaban?" he asked them hesitantly.
And similarly to the previous time, a short and not very successful discussion later, they noticed Neville sitting not too far away from them, working on what looked like a letter. This time, he had not been eavesdropping and they actually had to ask, but as before, he had a helpful answer.
"Azkaban? Whatever for? Well, I guess you could ask Susan – Susan Bones. Her aunt works in law enforcement." He shrugged his shoulders.
Harry thanked him, but did not explain, even though he could tell Neville was more than a little curious.
The rest was easy. They talked to Susan the next morning during breakfast. She was very surprised at the request, but promised she would write to her aunt. Madam Bones then wrote to Harry directly a day later. She tried to discourage him from going through with it. She told him about the madness of long-time inmates, about the seriousness of crimes most of them were convicted for, and in general tried to get him to see that it was no place for children. But she wrote that she would forward the letter if he insisted on sending it.
Harry filled several feet of parchment in a few minutes. His childhood dream of a relative who would come to rescue him, Dudley's recent visit at the end of the school year and his upcoming return to his aunt and uncle's house, together with his recent encounter with one of Voldemort's minions, had not left him in the mood to try to be objective where Sirius Black was concerned. He let his rage take control.
Without looking it over – he did not think he could have read through everything he had written – he put the letter in an envelope and sealed it. Then he put it in a second envelope with a thank-you letter to Madam Bones. The next morning, he gave the thick envelope to Hedwig, thanked both Susan and Neville once again, and then tried to get all of it – the very existence of a person called Sirius Black – out of his mind.
Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best marks of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you could not have everything in life.
And suddenly, it was time to begin packing their trunks. Students were buzzing with excitement about the summer holidays, about going home to their families – well, almost all of them.
The day before their trip, however, it was another topic altogether that began to take over everyone's interest. The professors and those older students who received the Daily Prophet were the first to learn about it, but the news soon began to spread.
The convicted murderer and you-know-who's master spy, Sirius Black, had died, the Pophet reported. This in itself would not have been much news, as it was not uncommon for Azkaban inmates to have shortened lifespans. However, rumours were circulating that Black had gone into sudden decline after receiving a letter – the first one in all his years of incarceration. Most curiously, the identity of the sender was not only unknown, there were not even any believable rumours around – nor about the content of the letter...
Harry and his friends did not have to wait for Hogwarts' rumour mill to reach them. They learned about it from the letter Madam Bones sent to Harry. It was very kind, as it informed him of Sirius Black's sudden death and asked him not to get upset about the news. Instead, she suggested that there must have been some buried goodness in the man that Harry's letter had managed to reach – enough to once again let him feel guilt...
There was not much time for Harry to get upset, at any rate. The next morning, Hagrid was taking them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake and towards the Hogwarts Express. Harry thought he noticed McGonagall shooting him curious looks when she saw them off from the Great Hall, but she did not say anything. Soon enough – sooner than Harry preferred – they were at King's Cross Station, where Uncle Vernon was waiting for him impatiently, Aunt Petunia and Dudley not far away. A short goodbye later, he was in the car, being driven away from the world of magic.
The car drive was more than a little bizarre. Dudley was sitting right next to him and he had the urge to just start chatting with him. He suspected, Dudley felt the same, but after a furtive glance while getting settled in their seats, they had not even looked at each other. His aunt and uncle, oblivious to anything being out of the ordinary, had gone back to behaving around them exactly as Harry remembered.
The first challenge was when they got home and Uncle Vernon insisted on padlocking Hedwig's cage and locking all of Harry's possessions in the cupboard under the stairs. The padlock was on Hedwig's cage before Harry could even argue and he was not even given the key.
Dudley, who had put as much distance between himself and his parents as the room allowed, watched without interfering, feeling uncomfortable in a way he never had before. When it looked like Harry had lost, he slowly walked over.
"But..." he began quietly.
"What is it, popkin?" Aunt Petunia immediately turned towards him. "Never fear. All those nasty things will be out of our sight in a moment."
"But what if they send someone again, like last year? Maybe if he writes them-"
"Oh, you poor dear. Don't worry sweetums-"
"Look, what you've done, boy!" Uncle Vernon turned on Harry. "Those – people – will do nothing of the sort, do you hear me? They'll have to learn that we live like civilised people here..."
He continued in that fashion for a while. Dudley did not try to argue any further.
That night, Harry and his cousin had a similar idea at the same time. Not long after they had gone upstairs, supposedly to sleep, they left their rooms, to go visit the other. The noise from the TV downstairs and Aunt Petunia's shrill commentary could be heard every now and then. Harry almost jumped when he opened the door and saw Dudley only a step away.
"Come in," he said in a hushed voice, grateful for his cousin's unexpected foresight.
Harry had considered the matter and had come to the conclusion that it would be better for everyone involved – himself included – if Dudley's parents never found out that their son had changed his opinion of Harry – and the rest of the magical world. Before he could say any of that, though, Dudley closed the door and leaned against it, before pulling out a set of keys from his pocket and presenting them to Harry excitedly.
"Er, what..."
"It's both for your owl and the cupboard under the stairs," Dudley said in a hushed voice.
"What? No, no. I'll be in so much trouble – Dudders, we really need to talk about this-"
"But they don't know – and don't call me that. They'll never know. They didn't even think to hide the keys from me. I was in the room when they decided where to keep them. I'm sorry I couldn't help you more. I... I know my parents are – not right about you. It's just..."
"That's just it, Dudley, I don't think you should try to – to help me like that – If you try to go against your parents – Who knows, they might think I had something to do with your change-"
"Er, you sort of did."
They both laughed at that – quietly.
"I did, yes. And didn't even need to use magic – much."
"So here's what I thought." Dudley went back to his argument. "I can help you after all. Maybe even better than if I try to argue with my parents. I can get you stuff in secret – like these keys-"
"Dudley-" Harry tried to argue again, but the creaking of stairs interrupted them.
"Here, keep these." Dudley pressed the keys into Harry's hand and then shuffled out of his room as quickly and silently as he could manage.
Harry stood indecisively in his room, staring at the keys, while his aunt and uncle readied for bed, said goodnight to Dudley, and began complaining about his owl – who had not even begun making any noise to speak of. Tired as she had been from the journey, she had fallen asleep and was only then beginning to wake up. There really was only one sane choice. As soon as everyone else in the house had fallen asleep, he quietly unlocked Hedwig's cage and opened the window.
"Be sure to be back before they wake up," he warned her sternly. She hooted softly in agreement – he hoped – and took off.
A good night's sleep and waking up to see Hedwig back in her cage, content and quiet, and Harry thought his summer holidays might turn out all right after all. He and Dudley both left the house, one shortly after the other – Dudley telling his parents that he wanted to see if his friends were around, Harry just confirming that he would keep his head down and be back before dark – and met up on Magnolia Crescent.
As soon as his cousin had caught up with him, Harry was bombarded with questions and excited commentary about the day Dudley had spent at Hogwarts. Harry did his best to keep up, enjoying the happy memories, especially now that he knew he would be stuck in the Dursley household for the next couple of months.
Not that all his memories of Hogwarts were happy. The end of term had had more than its share of darkness. Harry still had nightmares of his encounter with Voldemort. And if that had not been enough, he had been told his ill-advised letter to his parents' traitorous former friend had led to that man's suicide. Harry could not help but imagine the wretched creature he must have been, all sunken eyes, bright with the madness he had been told haunted all Azkaban inmates...
Harry suddenly came to a stop. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge ahead while Dudley continued to talk – and the hedge was staring back. A pair of shadowed eyes, brightened momentarily by the sunbeams, had appeared among the leaves.
The boys had walked towards a playground Dudley used to enjoy going to when they were younger. They were not the only ones with that idea, however. Piers Polkiss, and some other boys Dudley used to be friends with before going to Smeltings, were also there. It seemed to Harry, all they were doing was loiter around and keep younger children from playing.
"I was wondering when you would show – if you would show," said Piers, when he saw who had arrived.
"I didn't think you'd bring the weirdo with you," another of the boys – Malcolm – added.
"Yeah, Dudley, what's with that? Piers has been telling us some weird things about you. And now that freak. Didn't your folks send him to prison, or something?"
"Er, maybe we should... later... I could, er, go somewhere else for a bit..." Harry turned to go.
"Not so fast," said Piers. "That – that right there's exactly what I was talking about. Dud's suddenly decided to befriend all the losers. But really, that freaky cousin of yours-"
"He's not a freak!" replied Dudley. "And I didn't befriend anyone, I just told you I didn't want to bully anyone any more."
That was an ill-advised thing to have said. The boys began to slowly close in on the cousins.
"So you think we're bullies, now. You don't like how we used to chase your cousin around, is that it? How about we chase you both, then?"
They began to advance, but did not come very far. A large, dark shape appeared out of nowhere between the cousins and Dudley's old friends. It was only after the boys had run away in fright that Harry realised the huge, shaggy animal was a dog. It turned to face the frightened cousins, barking excitedly. But as soon as it noticed how they were inching backwards, it sat down, put its paws over its muzzle, and began to snuffle.