AN: After GinHanelle's reviews, I'm contemplating to add a warning for sudden bouts of unexpected humour ;-) didn't want to make you choke my dear, sorry! Who said the Dark Lord has to be dead serious all the time?
Meanwhile on Magnolia Crescent, Little Whinging, Surrey, England
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Pop.
With a barely audible sound Sirius appeared in the near darkness behind a garage. Everything appeared normal and quiet, no screams or spell fire greeted him. Not very far in the distance hummed Muggle traffic. He looked around the dimly illuminated street before transforming into his large, black Animagus dog form, and started trotting along the pavement with his nose close to the ground until he came across a trace of Harry, in fact across two sets of trails, going into different directions.
The scent was somewhat similar to how Harry had smelled in the Hogwarts hospital ward right after returning from the third task, but worse. A whiff of dirt, sickness, copper, iron, like – blood. Sirius was already frantic with worry. This finding did nothing to calm him; Harry must have been injured earlier that evening.
He followed the trail of Harry's scent around a corner and along the pavement until he reached the park with the play park on Magnolia Road. There were several sets of different people's smells near the gate, which was closed, but that was no hindrance for the large, bearlike dog. On the other side he found Harry's scent again, but the trail went back and forth. What had Harry done here? Sirius jumped back over the park gate and meticulously searched a widening circle over both pavements and the road until he was sure that Harry had been here twice tonight, but the fresher trace lead down Magnolia Road toward Magnolia Crescent, back into the direction of Privet Drive.
There was one other scent that appeared twice, as if that human, a man, had first followed Harry and then somehow walked again this same way, only a while later. This trail ran parallel with another very distinctive scent that Sirius associated at once with a middle aged man, elegant, wealthy, with very high quality leather boots and an expensive, masculine eau de toilette.
He sped up and jogged along the pavement, tongue lolling out, checking now and then for the scents. Yes they had all walked this way maybe an hour ago? And another group had strolled along this pavement too at about the same time. He found the scent of five males, which he associated with teenagers who had smoked cigarettes and consumed something fermented, most likely Muggle beer.
Sirius reached a point where the second group had separated, one trace led in the same direction as Harry's, the other youths had continued down the main road.
This person's footsteps smelled quite different from Harry's, like fat, sweat and faintly boozy. The two presumably older men had followed them, because their footsteps were distinctly above, not beneath those of his godson and that other bloke's.
Sirius had often been thankful for his Animagus form, which had enabled him to survive Azkaban, to flee and to avoid capture, but tonight it was more important than ever. Using only his eyes or spells, he wouldn't have discovered so much as he did in dog form.
By now he had reached the entrance of a small, dark alleyway. This was the short-cut to Wisteria Walk where he had seen Harry for the first time two years ago, right before the Knight bus had appeared. Mundungus had reported that according to Arabella, a Dementor had been in this very alleyway tonight.
Sirius didn't feel any special dread or an unnatural chill on the air that would announce the presence of a Dementor, apart from a very faint rotten aroma that was dissipating, so he slowly slunk along the backside of the garages and again began to examine the ground thoroughly for any clues of what had happened here. He could distinguish five sets of human traces. Harry, the other fat young male, the two older men and an elderly lady smelling like cabbage and cats, which he recognized as Arabella Figg. Of the older men, one, not the elegant man, but the other, had walked past here again very recently, only minutes ago.
Gradually he noticed that this scent increased the farther he moved into the direction of Wisteria Walk, which meant that this human must be near and standing or sitting still. And the other fatty, boozy smell got more potent, too. Sirius stopped, raising his head and tried to find them in the dancing shadows and near darkness between the garages backside and the fence where no Muggle street lamps shone, but he couldn't see anything. He knew his nose was very accurate while in canine form, so where was that man and where the teenager? Was the man perhaps a wizard, disillusioned or disguised as an Animagus like him? Had this man something to do with Harry's disappearance?
Garrick stood in the concealing blackness next to a garage's back wall, listening intently. He had cast a Night-vision-enhancer charm on his eyes earlier and therefore spotted the form of Potter's cousin lying motionless on the ground. In the distance, he heard voices, coming closer to his position from the direction of Wisteria Walk.
In the same moment, the hair on his neck rose. He felt that someone was watching him from behind. He slowly turned his head – and couldn't suppress a sharp inhale, for only a few paces away from him stood a Grim!
The terrifying spectre stared at him, hackles raised, lips curled back, maw open, eyes glowing, ready to attack! A low growl rose from its chest, the deadly sharp teeth contrasting to the surrounding darkness.
After a brief moment of panic Garrick realized what, or rather whom he was facing. That Grim could be his death, but it was no bad omen. This dog was a wizard! Wormtail had disclosed that a large, shaggy black dog like a Grim was the Animagus form of Sirius Black, Potter' godfather. So, the Order had been alarmed by someone. He quickly looked over the dog down the alleyway and turned back into the other direction, he couldn't see anyone else.
Garrick had only a second to decide what to do. He could kill, bind or stun the Animagus to stop him from attacking, try to capture him, or he could do something entirely else. Take a risk, gamble, and hopefully win, again.
"Good evening, Black," he whispered, training his wand onto the Animagus, in the same moment as the dog crouched low, preparing himself to jump and rip his throat out. To an Animagus it wouldn't matter much that Garrick was disillusioned, a dog could smell and hear much better compared to a human.
"Grrrrr," the dog growled, but didn't launch itself at the dark blond wizard, yet.
"Nice to meet you too, Black. Are you by chance looking for Potter?"
"Grrrrrr!"
"If you want to know anything about Potter, calm down and be quiet, for Merlin's sake!" Garrick hissed, ready to cast Duro. The arguing voices sounded closer, two males, one older, one younger.
The growling stopped instantly, changing to a whine. The dog sat down, head tilted to the side in a silent question with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. "Jipp!"
Watching him warily, Garrick hurriedly whispered, "Yes, I know who you are and that you are searching for your godson. I propose a temporary truce for one hour. Swear on your magic not to attack or betray me and to follow my directions to keep both of us safe. I shall likewise swear not to attack you. I shall give you some information. We can negotiate later for details. Do you agree?"
"Whuff!" The dog stood up again, nodded his head and wagged his tail.
"So mote it be," stated Garrick. A second later, a faint glow surrounded the dog; his magic had accepted the truce, while Garrick's wand glowed also for a second.
"Wuff! Wuff!"
"Shut up! The Muggles are coming!" Garrick quickly cancelled the Disillusion charm so that the other wizard could see him temporarily and motioned with his hand towards the shadow he was standing in next to the garage, whispering, "Come here. Let's watch them together. That might answer some of your questions."
The form of the dog wavered and grew upwards. A moment later a tall, gaunt man with long, wavy black hair and a short beard, clad in a long sleeved shirt, a waistcoat and dark trousers was standing beside him, with a wand in his right hand.
"Who are you? Where is Harry? Is he alive?" Sirius whispered urgently, stepping closer to the other wizard, who was about his height. He thought he knew him from somewhere, although he couldn't place a name to the man's voice, face, or smell; not that he could make out the features in this low light. The bloke was not cloaked and masked like a Death Eater, but he might still be one – although he didn't act like Sirius expected one of Voldemort's minions to act.
"Shhh, later! Disillusion yourself, wait and watch!" hissed Garrick, because in that moment two persons entered the alleyway from the other side. He quickly tapped his own head and recast the charm, just in time to avoid detection. Next to him Black did the same. They were so close, he could feel the other's warmth and rapid, agitated breathing.
"Where is he, Piers?" sounded a deep, upset male voice, breathless and wheezy.
"Here Mr Dursley, he was lying on the ground, just a bit down the alleyway," answered a younger man's voice, frightened. "I told you, I've no clue what happened! Something's gone pear-shaped after we separated. He was perfectly fine when we left him."
Steps sounded, the two wizards waited. Garrick enhanced vision discerned two forms, one large, fat man, and a lanky teenager. He recognized them, Harry's uncle and a friend of Harry's cousin.
"Oh good Lord, Dudley!" cried the adult. He knelt down, to examine and shake the limp form on the ground. "Piers, was he like this before?"
"Bugger it! Yeah, he was just like this, completely spangled," answered the younger man.
"Run, Piers, to the next house, call 999! After that, go straight away to our house and fetch my wife."
"Ok, on my way, guv."
Quick footsteps sounded, growing fainter, as Piers hurried away.
"Oh Dudley, Dudley, wake up! Blasted boy, that's your entire fault! Thrice damned Potter freak, you wait, when I get my hands on you! I'll kill you!" The fat man hugged his son to his chest, crying, sobbing and cursing Potter's name without restraint.
Garrick gently tugged at Sirius arm, breathing into his ear, "Come along. Let's go back a bit to talk."
They retreated quietly about 50 meters, where Garrick stopped, cancelling his Disillusiment charm and quickly brought up a Muggle repelling ward, plus a silencing barrier around them.
Sirius flinched, gripping his own wand firmly to defend himself, before he realized that the other wizard had only secured their privacy. Nevertheless he stayed on his guard, ready to cast a shield or stunner anytime. Because the stranger had demonstrated that he held to their truce so far, Sirius took the risk to become visible again too. He needed answers, now!
"What happened? Where is Harry? Is he all right, is he alive? Did you kidnap or hurt him? Who are you? Do you work for the Ministry or You-Know-Who?" Sirius fired off one question after the other, not able to contain himself anymore.
Garrick watched him calmly, wand at the ready but in a neutral stance, knowing he held all the cards in this game.
"That's a lot of questions, isn't it?"
Sirius spluttered and brandished his wand. "Tell me! You must tell me!"
Garrick raised an eyebrow and sneered. "I must? No Black, I don't have to tell you anything."
"But, but you – you proposed this truce! You promised not to attack me and give me information!"
"Ah, yes, I did, but I didn't say what kind of information, didn't I?" chuckled Garrick. Oh Salazar, it was such fun to rile up Gryffindors! "Remember that I already gave you information, that you might learn something by listening to those Muggles?"
Sirius growled almost like Padfoot, barely restraining himself from attacking the other wizard. That bastard must be a former Slytherin. Typical. Wait, didn't he look somewhat familiar? Was this man perhaps one of Snivellus' former gang of Slytherins, only fifteen to twenty years older? In that case he was most likely a Voldemort supporter or minion.
Regardless, Sirius desperately needed information about Harry; he was willing to offer almost anything in return for news. What did this slimy snake want? He took a deep breath and tried to calm down; screaming and threatening the dark blond man wouldn't help him to find Harry, the bastard could Disapparate any moment.
"Please, tell me at least if he is alive. What do you want in return? Ransom? How much?"
"No, no, I want information, same as you, Black. It depends on the quality and quantity you can offer, you see?" Garrick smirked at the agitated wizard. "And you must swear to inform no one, and I mean no one, about what I might reveal about Potter to you without my consent. And his permission, for that matter. You won't tell or write or otherwise disclose that you met me to Dumbledore or your Order or people otherwise associated with your group or Hogwarts or the Ministry, do you understand?"
Sirius stared at him, feeling bewildered and torn up. The dark blond wizard, clad in a normal, inconspicuous wizarding robe, with trousers and boots underneath as far as he could see, must be involved with You-Know-Who, the way he spoke of the Order and Dumbledore, because he knew about them! Or – was he one of Fudge's paranoid people? Or both? Oh Merlin. What to do? Harry. Harry was his godson, he needed to find and help him, regardless if Dumbledore would approve of this exchange or not. Wait, what had the man said?
"What do you mean with his permission? Harry's or – or You-Know-Who's?" he queried nervously.
Garrick relished in Black's complete confusion. He didn't feel very charitable towards him, on the contrary. After being sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius Black had turned his back on his Dark wizard heritage; he'd run away from his family at age sixteen and allied himself with Dumbledore's people. While at school, he was the worst kind of arrogant bully together with James Potter and the other Marauders, targeting and tormenting Slytherins like Severus out of boredom and out of principle. After graduating from Hogwarts, Black had joined the Aurors to fight against his own people.
He was appointed godfather of Harry Potter, but so far he hadn't done his job at all. Yes, Black had been wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban, but since two years he was out and about, doing what? Tonight he seemed to be very worried about the boy, but if he cared at all about Potter's mental and physical health, why hadn't he helped him before? How could a decent godfather leave his helpless charge in such an abusive Muggle household over the summers?
"My and Potter's permission of course, you imbecile!" he snapped at Black. "First of all you must agree, or I won't tell you anything, you sorry excuse for a wizard!" stated Garrick firmly, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Sirius bristled in anger, he wanted to curse this bastard into next week, but caved eventually. "All right. You'll get something worthwhile, of equal value from me in return, either information or a substantial favour to be called in later, sometime in the future. I promise to not reveal what you tell me to anyone without your consent and Harry's. I swear this on my magic and give you my word as the Black Head of house. Do you accept?"
Garrick nodded. "So mote it be."
Sirius repeated the confirmation, and again a short tingle and glow of magic surrounded both their wand hands and wands.
"And? Spit it out! Is he still alive and all right? Where is Harry? What is going on here? Why was that Muggle talking about Harry that way? Who the fuck are you? For whom do you work?" inquired Sirius, fidgeting with impatience, anxiety and restlessness. He wanted to do something, not mince words like this! What if Harry was dead, and he had promised a potential Death Eater or Ministry sycophant a favour for nothing?
Garrick pondered on how much to reveal and what to ask in return. "The last time I saw him, Harry Potter was alive," he stated.
Sirius blanched, his stomach felt as if it had dropped to his knees. He whispered, "How long ago?" dreading the answer.
"About half an hour, maybe twenty minutes ago," replied Garrick.
"Where? Is he in danger?"
"Where I cannot tell you, but Potter was safe, not in danger anymore. He was not well at all, but better than before."
"Thank Merlin," sighed Sirius, feeling relieved for a moment, only to jump to the next alarming question. "Why can't you tell me where he is? What do you mean with 'he was not well at all'? So he is injured? Who hurt him? Did you or that other man kidnap and torture him or does You-Know-Who have him?" he called out, feeling his heart constrict from worry and panic, his mind conjuring up scenarios of torture, blood, gore and pain.
"Stop!" interrupted Garrick, touching the distraught man's arm for a moment. Sirius shook the other's hand of angrily. "Calm down Black! I assure you, the boy is quite safe. Or at least he was, when I last saw him. He is being healed and getting potions, food and water as we speak. I can't tell you where he is for several reasons; one is that Potter doesn't want that old coot or your stupid Order to know."
Sirius stared at him disbelievingly and only moderately reassured. "What! That's - I don't understand. Why wouldn't Harry want us to know where he is? Why did he leave the only place where he is safe? What about that Dementor? And, who are you? How do you know Harry and what happened tonight?"
"Fool!" Garrick scoffed when he heard Sirius speak about the supposed only place of safety. "That I can't answer at present. Ask something else."
Sirius frowned and thought a moment about what was most important. He couldn't trust this Slytherin bastard. But he needed him, this wizard was his only connection to Harry, so he responded, "Ok. Do you swear on your magic that it's true that Harry was in danger this evening, but now he is safe as far as you know and someone is looking after him?"
Garrick nodded solemnly, raising his wand. "I do speak the truth, and he is in good hands." A brief tingling glow of magic confirmed his statement, before he posed a question of his own. "So, tell me Black, what do you know about the occurrences of this evening? And, are more members of your Order in the vicinity?"
Sirius huffed, racking his hand through his dark hair and pushing the long locks back, before replying, "Not much. I mean I don't know much, and I'm expecting more Order members to turn up here any minute. As far as I know Harry simply vanished this evening. I followed his trail, his footsteps to and from that Muggle park. I believe he was injured, because I smelled blood, but I don't know how or why. I found out that you and another man followed Harry from the park all the way to this very alleyway. I have heard from someone else that a Dementor was here earlier."
Garrick looked at him, measuring Sirius sincerity and intentions. "That is all you now? Honestly?"
"Yes," confirmed Sirius, before asking, "Is that Dementor the reason why that Muggle boy is lying on the ground over there? Did You-Know-Who command this attack?"
"I believe it is," replied Garrick. "The Dark Lord is definitely not responsible for the Dementor attack on Potter and his cousin."
"Oh. But – then, how come a Dementor was here at all?"
"Excellent question, Black. I don't know, either," said Garrick. "What do you know about the past four weeks?"
Sirius frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Potter was sent to his Muggle relatives after the end of school, about four weeks ago, wasn't he?"
"Yes," answered Sirius cautiously.
"Did you have contact with your godson? Did you visit him? Did you write letters to him?" Garrick grilled him, his eyes flashing in anger. "What did he do, how did he spend his time? How were his living conditions? Who decided that Potter had to stay here? Did you send him here because you didn't want him around?"
Sirius opened and closed his mouth in a good gold fish impersonation. "What? No! I won't answer, that's private, not your business."
"Sure it's my business! Do you recognize those Muggles?" Garrick pointed in the direction of Wisteria Walk. "The fat man, the body on the ground and the other thinner boy who was send to call for help?"
"No. Well, I heard the names, so they must be Harry's uncle and his cousin. I don't care about them. What I want to know is what happened to Harry? If he is out of danger as you say, then why is he not in safety at his relative's house as he should be?"
Garrick was astonished, no, he was floored. Harry Potter's godfather didn't recognize the boy's relatives and a good friend of his cousin, one of his gang, the very people who tormented Potter regularly? Black thought Potter should be at his relatives? Didn't he realize that they endangered the boy?
"Black, you don't - I, I can't believe this!" Garrick fumed. "Either you are completely clueless, or you are one of the best liars I've ever met! Don't you know anything at all? Honestly Black. What kind of godfather are you?"
"What? What do you mean? I haven't lied to you!" Sirius exclaimed.
In the distance a Muggle car horn sounded. They heard a kind of caterwauling, that grew in intensity, and voices too.
Garrick and Sirius looked into the direction of Wisteria Walk.
"Black, our times is almost up, the Muggles are coming," retorted Garrick.
"No, don't go, please, tell me more about Harry! I want to help him!" implored Sirius.
"Do you? I find that very hard to believe. Why do you suddenly act as if you care?" retorted Garrick, his voice sharp in anger.
In his mind, he beheld the malnourished body of Potter in the Dark Lord's study, sitting naked on the floor, covered in wounds, scars and bruises, small and ashamed, and requesting sanctuary from his mortal enemy. He recalled the teenager's raspy voice begging Malfoy in this same alleyway to rescue him, sounding so lonely and frantic.
"Of course I care! Harry is James' son, my best friend's son!" Sirius retorted in indignation, puffing up his chest and crossing his arms in front in a defensive stance reflexively.
"Indeed, he is. It's high time you remember that," Garrick said bitterly. Sirius blinked in confusion.
"You should have looked after him, Black. Why haven't you removed Potter from that Muggle scum's house, if you care about him as you say?" accused Garrick scathingly. "I'd very much like to curse the shit out of you on his behalf, you know that?" A few red sparks shot out of his wand, which he held in a death grip at his side, point downwards, to stop himself from breaking their truce.
His arms dropping to his sides like loose cables, Sirius stared gob-smacked at the angry face of the dark blond wizard. The caterwauling and the sound of voice grew louder. Several shadowy forms moved at the other end of the alley. Garrick turned and began to walk toward the Muggles.
Sirius hurried after him, exclaiming, "What? Why do you say that? I wanted to, but Dumbledore insisted that Harry had to stay there." He raised his hands and shoulders in a helpless gesture, "Please. Please, what's going on? What are you talking about?"
"Have you ever met those filthy Muggles in person? Have you watched that house, number four Privet Drive up close or visited Potter over the past four weeks? Or last summer?" inquired Garrick impatiently over his shoulder.
"How do you – ? N-no, no, I haven't, never," stammered Sirius.
"Why not?"
"Because – ." Sirius hesitated. He couldn't, he shouldn't tell Order secrets. But this dark wizard seemed to know everything already. "Because Dumbledore said it's better this way. You must know I'm – "
"A fugitive, yes. But are you a wizard or not? Has Azkaban completely rotted your wits?" Garrick sneered, "I must go. If you really care for that poor boy, than use your dog form, your instincts. Watch and listen! And think about what you learn. Stop trusting Dumbledore. Now hush, disguise yourself." With that, he dismantled the charms around them and disillusioned himself again, walking quickly, but soundlessly towards the commotion at the other end of the alleyway.
Sirius stood rooted to the ground, completely confused and bewildered, mulling over this weird conversation. What did that bastard of a Slytherin – for Sirius firmly believed he was one - talk about? What had happened at Privet Drive during the past weeks and this evening? None of the Order members on guard had ever reported anything unusual; no Death Eaters had been sighted.
Sirius knew from the few times he had spoken to Harry in the past year and from the few letters they had exchanged that Harry didn't like to be in the Muggle world. But what this wizard said, it sounded almost as if – as if there was something really bad going on. Something he, as Harry's godfather should know about, some harm done to Harry that he should have prevented. 'Use your dog form. Stop trusting Dumbledore.' What kind of advice was that?! Why did the man use the specific words 'that poor boy'? Why would a dark wizard, a Slytherin, a probable Death Eater, pity Harry or care for him? Why would this man be angry on Harry's behalf at Sirius? It made no sense at all.
And what was happening over there with the Muggles? He morphed quickly into his Padfoot form and jogged towards the group of people bustling about the boy's limp body on the ground. Sirius crouched down in the shadows besides a garage; he didn't think one of the Muggles would notice a black dog.
A large yellow Muggle car had arrived; it was easy to make out because of the bright colour and all the blinking lights, blue, yellow and red. The rear doors were thrown open wide, inside it was white and brightly lit. Thankfully the shrill caterwauling had stopped; it must be a kind of Muggle alarm.
Two men in the same bright vests knelt next to the body and seemed to examine him. One of them pressed some mask like contraception onto the pale face of the fat boy lying on his back. They were talking rapidly. Sirius caught some words. "No response," followed by "Oxygen," and "Comatose." Sirius assumed they were Muggle healers. Then they carefully lifted the body onto a stretcher and slowly carried him towards the vehicle.
A whole crowd of other Muggles was standing a few paces away and gawked, whispering between themselves. The large fat man, Harry's uncle, was talking loudly with one of the presumed healers, gesticulating wildly with his hands.
"What do you mean, you can't tell what's wrong?" he blustered.
"Mr Dursley, as I said, we must bring him to the hospital, there the doctor on duty will further examine the patient," the healer answered.
"You must help him, Dudley is my only son!" The fat man insisted.
"Yes Mr Dursley, of course. We will do all we can. Please sir, would you fill out this form with his name, your contact information like name and address, telephone number, to speed up the process at the hospital?"
"Yes, sure. Just go, help my son."
The fat man started writing something, while the two presumed healers turned to the back of the vehicle and busied themselves with the prone body inside.
The crowd quieted suddenly and parted, as a thin, horse faced woman pushed through. She repeatedly screamed," Dudley! Vernon!" as she ran toward the fat man and the ambulance vehicle. Her shrill voice was hurting Sirius' sensitive ears.
"Dudley! Where is he? What happened?" she shrieked.
"Petunia, Dudley is hurt, kind of awake but unconscious, he doesn't react," explained Mr Dursley.
"Oh, my poor Popkin!" cried the woman, wringing her hands and looking franticly around. The crowd stared at her, prying, eager to witness more drama. Someone sniggered nastily in the background. Only very few women were sympathetic to the Dursley's distress.
One of the presumed Muggle healers, a slender black haired, dark skinned man, came over to them, while the other man closed the doors of the vehicle with a resounding Bang.
"Good evening, I'm paramedic Ian Thomas from the Surrey emergency ambulance service," he said briskly. "Madam, please calm down. Are you Mrs Dursley, the mother of the patient?"
"Yes, yes, I am. Where is he?" said Mrs Dursley, tears streaming over her face. She was clutching the arm of the fat man, as if she would break down any minute.
"Your son is in the ambulance, we are about to drive to the hospital," Mr Thomas explained. "Mr Dursley, do you and your wife have a car to follow us? Do you know the way to Ashford Hospital on London Road, A 30?"
"Yes, of course, we will fetch my car and come at once," responded Mr Dursley.
"Good. Please remember to pack an overnight bag for your son, you know, pyjamas, slippers, bathrobe, a towel and the like. Leave your car in the parking lot opposite of Tesco's and go to main entrance, ask for directions at the main reception. Bye."
Paramedic Thomas nodded at the distraught couple. Having done his duty he turned his back on them and strode to the door of the large yellow vehicle. The other man who was already sitting inside started the engine, while speaking into a small device he held close to his mouth.
"All right, thank you," said Mr Dursley, taking the elbow of his wife and tugged to lead her away.
"Thank you, sir!" called Mrs Dursley, waving after the man, who didn't bother to glance at her anymore. As soon as he had climbed inside, the vehicle backed slowly out of the alleyway's entrance, turned and sped down the street, blaring the horrible caterwauling alarm again and flashing a blue light on top. Sirius winced. Ouch, his poor sensitive ears!
The Dursleys began to walk as quickly as they could down Wisteria Walk towards Privet Drive, and the crowd of nosy neighbours dissipated, now that the show was over. Sirius had noticed Arabella Figg standing amongst them; she was slowly ambling away like the other people, gossiping with another elderly woman. He hesitated a moment where to go next, when he picked up the scent of the presumed Death Eater who was following the Dursleys, apparently still disillusioned. Sirius ran after him at once, partly out of curiosity, partly out of a vague sense of duty.
After a short while, he was beside the wizard and in hearing range of the Dursleys, who were walking very close together, whispering fiercely to each other, obviously in the middle of a heated argument.
"Vernon, you're sure Dudley is still alive?" asked Mrs Dursley.
"Yes," replied Mr Dursley, "but not really alive, his eyes were open, glassy, horrible, he stared into nothing. He didn't react like a normal person would if asleep. The paramedic said something about Dudley being completely unconscious, comatose."
"Oh, my, how dreadful! My poor baby!" wailed Mrs Dursley.
"This must be the freak's fault! Ungrateful, unnatural waste of space, I've had enough of this!" raged Mr Dursley. "Every year, every single year something horrible happens over the summer. That boy attracts trouble like honey attracts flies. Remember how last year our living room was ruined and Dudley nearly suffocated because of his friends, those disgusting ginger fiends? I simply will not tolerate this any more; I want him gone, out of our home! Potter," Dursley spat the name out like the foulest swearword, "better gets a move, 'cause if I get my hands on him, I'll kill him!"
"You're right Vernon, this has gone too far," said Mrs Dursley, sounding equally furious and determined. "That snake attack at the Zoo was murderous. The pig's tail was so humiliating. The Masons still haven't forgiven us, that prank cost us our well-deserved vacation home on Majorca. Then he blew up your sister and now our poor Diddydums might die, again! I really thought we could cure that dreadful boy, I know you tried your utmost to beat sense into him. It seems impossible, despite our best efforts. No, he must leave. Did you see him somewhere? Did Piers watch him do something to Dudley?" she asked her husband.
"No," responded Mr Dursley, "I haven't see him after that disturbance right at the end of the evening news, and Piers said that the boys separated back on Magnolia Crescent, there was no one else around when he saw Dudley for the last time."
"That means nothing," hissed the horse-faced woman, "that nasty boy could have hidden in the alleyway behind a garage, ready to attack poor Diddy from behind."
"Oh yes, of course. As soon as we're home, I'll get all of the freaks stuff and set it outside in front of the garage. When he comes back, he'll see he isn't welcome here any more."
Mrs Dursley nodded. "I'll pack a suitcase for Dudley, and also some of his games and some sweets for when he wakes up. I refuse to give up hope; no he will wake up again. Our Dudley is a strong boy, he will pull thorough," said Mrs Dursley, sounding confidently.
"Pet, do we - I mean, can we, can you do something about the freak, so that he cannot come back?" inquired the fat man carefully. "So that that old crackpot cannot force us to take him in again? Is there any way to make sure we are rid of him for good? I can't stand him!"
The woman stalked in silence for a few steps, before squaring her shoulders and answering assertive, with quiet menace, "Yes. Yes, I know just what I'll do. I should have done that years and years ago! You were always right Vernon; we should have dropped the brat off in the next orphanage, or drowned him right away in the river on that godforsaken morning when I found him on our doorstep."
Her husband looked at her, but she didn't say anything further until they had reached their house and rushed inside.
Sirius had slowed down and increased the distance to the two Muggles. He moved on autopilot, and finally sat down on his haunches on the pavement, he was so utterly shocked by what he had overheard. He couldn't grasp all the facts, but one thing was clear: these Muggles despised Harry, blaming him for a number of incidents Sirius had no knowledge of – but they firmly believed Harry to have caused their son harm today and in the past, and Mr Dursleys sister, too. Mrs Dursley had spoken about curing Harry, from what? Did they think they could beat the magic out of him?
Oh dear Merlin, he'd had no idea. Sirius's head was spinning. Was this – was this what that dark wizard went on about earlier, why he became so upset, so furious? Why hadn't Harry told anyone, if his relatives treated him so badly?
The woman, Mrs Dursley, spoke so contemptuously about leaving Harry at an orphanage or – or drowning him? Sirius wasn't sure he had correctly understood that last part. Was that possible that his relatives loathed and hated Harry so much?
And – what did she mean with 'found him on our doorstep'?
Surely Dumbledore had introduced little Harry to the Dursleys and carefully explained everything to them on that night, or the next morning? Hagrid had told Sirius that he had orders from Dumbledore to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. Sirius remembered that night James and Lily were murdered very clearly. He'd relived it countless times for twelve long years in Azkaban. Hagrid wouldn't have left a freshly orphaned and injured, traumatized toddler outside a Muggle front door in the middle of the cold night, would he?
Sirius nearly choked on his own saliva, his throat felt so tight. He didn't want to believe this. He felt as if someone had pulled the rug out under him, and as if a troll had punched him in the guts, literally.
Suddenly a car sped past him and honked. Sirius didn't notice a thing.
"Black. Black!"
Sirius was abruptly brought back into the present by the low, but sharp voice of the other wizard, combined with a nudge and then a pull at the fur of his neck towards the Dursley's house, away from the street lamp. Completely out of it, he followed the pull into the garden until they were at the side of the house, hidden in shadows, again.
Sirius didn't consider that the man very well might be a Death Eater, out to kill him as soon as their hour of truce was up. His shock over the reality of Harry's so called family; his supposed safe home in the Muggle world overshadowed everything else.
After transforming back into his human body, he whispered, "Did you hear what I heard? They blame Harry and want to kick him out, they despise and hate him? It sounds like they did beat him in the past? Is that what you were talking about earlier? I can't believe this!"
Garrick stayed disillusioned, but whispered back, "Yes, I heard, and yes, that's what I meant. Those blasted Muggles. Outrageous! Do you still insist that you didn't know anything?"
"No!" stated Sirius emphatically. "I had no idea! I thought Harry was well cared for here, not loved like a son, but safe. I knew he didn't like his relatives, and the younger Weasley boys said these Muggles were gits. Well, I thought Harry is a teenager, you know, it's quite normal during puberty to disagree with adults, like ones parents, guardians or teachers. Dumbledore always says that this is the only place where Harry is safe from You-Know-Who, so he must spend his summer with his relatives."
"Pah!" scoffed Garrick.
"I – I believed him. I gave Harry up to Hagrid that night, Halloween '81, to be brought here. And that, that vile Muggle woman, she said she found him on her doorstep! She talked about drowning him!" muttered Sirius, torn up and dismayed. "Oh Merlin and Morgana, what have I done? Why hasn't Harry spoken, why didn't he say or write it was this bad?" Sirius's voice broke, he cradled his head in his hands, wiping away a few tears and pulling at his hair distressed.
"Hush!" hissed Garrick. "Get a grip, Black. Maybe nobody believed him? Or he didn't dare to say something? Who would believe this is the way the famous Boy Who Lived grew up? I was so shocked myself when I found out." He paused for a moment, before stating, "What's done is done. Look forward. Stop trusting Dumbledore. Question everything you have been told or experienced in the past twenty five years."
"But – but, I can't," said Sirius, confused and helpless. "I'm a Gryffindor, James Potter was my best friend. Dumbledore, he's Dumbledore! The Light side is the good, the right side. Pure-blood supremacists are wrong. You-Know-Who is evil."
"Idiotic sucker!" the other wizard jeered. "I don't have time for a philosophical discussion. You can do something. Observe carefully how they act when your fellow Order members or the Headmaster come here. Where are they, by the way?"
"I've no idea what's taking them so long," replied Sirius, disturbed that he said that at all – he was talking way to open with this wizard, but he owed him so much. Without their temporary truce and discussion, without the information about Harry and watching the Dursleys, he would be still running around Little Whinging clueless. Now he was shocked and confused, but at least he knew something of what had happened to Harry.
"Shhh, conceal yourself, and watch!" Garrick hissed.
Sirius quickly tapped his head, disillusioning himself and looked around the corner of the house. The Muggles were coming out of the front door again. Mrs Dursley carried a suitcase and put it into the boot of the car standing in the driveway. Mr Dursley pulled a heavy trunk and dropped it at the side of the garden wall, setting an empty bird cage on top of it.
"That's all?" asked Mrs Dursley.
"Yes, I dumped everything what was in his room and the cupboard of him into the trunk. The blasted owl is gone, thankfully."
"Did you look under his bed?" asked Mrs Dursley.
"No, why?" retorted her husband.
Mrs Dursley huffed. "I believe he hides things under his bed. Put everything in a bin bag and bring it out."
Mr Dursley nodded and rushed away. Sirius could hear and feel him storming inside the house and stomping up the stairs. A few minutes later the fat man came back, with a black plastic bag in his hand.
"You were right Pet, there was stuff underneath a loose floorboard. So, this is the rest." He opened the lid of the trunk halfway and stuffed the bin bag inside with some difficulty, while commenting, "I'd really like to burn everything he owns, and give him a trashing he shall never forget, when he dares to show his face here again."
Mrs Dursley shook her head. "No Vernon. These freaks are dangerous. We don't know what is all in his trunk. It might explode and blow up the whole road! And we don't know when he'll come back. It's late at night, we must drive to the hospital now. Dudley needs us! Let's just get rid of that worthless boy for good. "
"All right Petunia. What do you have in mind?" inquired Mr Dursley.
"I wrote a letter to the freak and that crazy headmaster of that", her voice dripped of contempt, "school, I shall leave it here in that bird cage. I'm sure either the boy or one of his disgusting friends will find it." She showed him a piece of paper.
She leaned over the bonnet of their car and wrote something more on the letter with a flourish. After a moment of hesitation, she routed around in her purse and pulled something small, metallic out, that Sirius could not clearly see. Her husband avidly watched her.
"What are you doing!" the fat man exclaimed, sounding frightened and concerned.
"Making sure that they understand how serious we are. Good riddance to the freak!" With these words, Petunia Dursley pricked her left forefinger with the sharp point of a small nail scissor, so that a drop of blood fell down onto the letter right over her signature.
Sirius and Garrick felt a magical disturbance around them. Something was changing. They looked at each other, although they couldn't see anything except a blurred outline. Sirius whispered, "Merlin. The wards! She's bringing down the protective wards."
"Not that they did much protecting," Garrick whispered back.
"What did you write? Why sign with your blood like a heathen? Is that - is that what they would do?" Mr Dursley asked, sounding scarred by her behaviour, as his wife put away the scissor and folded the letter before turning to her husband, standing to her full height as if she was speaking in front of a large audience, brandishing the letter like a weapon.
"I wrote that we want our normal life back and nothing to do at all with their world. That we won't tolerate Harry Potter anymore," she declared in an emotional voice, which grew in power and volume while she spoke. "Harry Potter cannot call this house, number four, Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey in England his home any more from this moment forthwith."
"Yes, very good, Petunia! Out with him!" agreed Mr Dursley whole-heartedly.
"I wrote even more. That I renounce kinship with Harry Potter. I have no sister and he isn't my nephew. He was never a part of this family, and he shall never be! I confirmed it with my blood, that he is not of my blood, so there is no doubt I mean it." Mrs Dursley ended triumphantly, stepping to the trunk and putting the letter into the empty owl cage standing on top.
Sirius and Garrick felt the blood wards around number four, Privet Drive crumbling, leaving a strangely empty feeling inside of them as the magic disintegrated and dissipated around the property.
In the next second, an owl shot towards them, briefly visible in the light from the street lamp and above the front door of number four, dropping a red envelope right on top of Mrs Dursley, before it whirred around and vanished into nothingness again. She shrieked and jumped back.
Mr Dursley cursed loudly. The letter lay on the cleanly swept stones of the drive way. Mrs Dursley stepped back some more. It started to smoke before bursting into flames.
A booming, terrible voice called out, "Remember my last, Petunia!"
"Too late! Leave me and my family alone!" she shrieked back, for once not caring what her neighbours might think. Petunia Dursley turned around and opened the door to the passenger seat. "Come, Vernon. Dudley is waiting for us."
Vernon Dursley stared at his wife, as if he had seen her for the first time. He seemed to be almost afraid of her, but he quickly got into the car, started the engine, pulled back and drove down the road.
Sirius let out a breath. "Wow."
"Sure that that harpy is a Muggle, no squib? I doubt that after this display!" said Garrick. He quickly walked over to the stack of Harry's belongings and began to shrink them. "Who do you think that howler was from?" he asked casually, while pocketing the shrunken trunk and owl cage before Sirius could take notice.
"Huh? What? Oh, the howler. I'm not sure, but well, my guess is Dumbledore," retorted Sirius. He felt overwhelmed, confused, terrified and so helpless. Harry was gone, Merlin knows where, his cousin had been kissed by a Dementor, and his aunt had thrown him out and brought down the wards that had been the very reason that Harry had to spend fourteen unhappy years here. The wards were no more, which meant there was no protection from Voldemort anymore. He looked around, where was the other wizard? Dratted, he thought, he's still invisible.
"What – what about Harry?" Sirius spoke into thin air, despair and hopelessness in his voice. "Will he, will You-Know-Who kill Harry now?"
A chuckle answered him. "No idea. Good bye, until next time."
"No! Please, wait!" Sirius called out.
"Black, I must go, things to do, orders to follow, you know?" Garrick's voice was laden with mirth and sarcasm. "We can't all laze around like certain mutts."
"I don't laze around!" Sirius cried out indignantly, before asking beseechingly, "Please, will you see Harry tomorrow?"
"I don't know, I can't promise that," the former Slytherin replied with caution.
"Oh. Can you deliver a message, a letter to him?" Sirius wanted to know.
"The same, I can try, but I can't promise you he'll get it."
Sirius walked to the drive way, where he had heard the wizard's voice answering him from. Looking around, he noticed that Harry's luggage was gone. "His trunk, did you – of course you did. Will you give him his things?" he asked hopefully.
"Again, I plan to, I'll try, but I don't know if he'll receive it or not," retorted Garrick. After a moment of fighting with himself, he added, "Black, I don't know if – if Potter is still alive. I think he's all right, but you must understand that things could have happened in the meantime that I have neither control over, nor knowledge of."
"I see," said Sirius, crushed. He fumbled for words, feeling lost. "Thank – thank you for being so, so honest. Please, if you can, if you find an opportunity, please tell him I love him, OK?"
"All right. Anything else?" Garrick sneered, exasperated by this emotional Gryffindor and himself, for going soft because of the memory of expressive green eyes and how grateful that broken boy had been for their help.
"Tell Harry that I had no idea, of nothing," Sirius choked out, feeling as if his mouth, throat, lungs and stomach were full of ash. "I failed him; I failed James and Lily, again. I'm so very sorry. I – I don't know what I'll do, but I want to help him, to make it up to him."
"OK, I'll do that," assured Garrick. "Not for you, but for the boy."
"Thanks," Sirius said appreciatively. He felt so lost and useless. "What now?"
"If you truly want to help Potter," Garrick advised, "stay inconspicuous and alert, and stop thinking of the Light and Gryffindor as good and the Dark and Slytherin as evil. The real world is much more complicated than school yard bullying. Think about what you learned this evening; re-evaluate what you believe in and whom you trust."
Sirius swallowed and cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you for your advice. I'm deeply indebted to you, I will not forget. I've never said something like this to a Slytherin. This is all so very confusing; my whole world is being turned upside down. It'll take some time for me to sort through it all."
"Hmm. You could do me a favour in return," purred Garrick. "For example, you wouldn't know the Order of the Phoenix headquarters' address by chance?"
Sirius inhaled sharply. "So, you are one of Voldemort's minions, I thought so. No, I can't. I'm not the secret keeper. And I wouldn't tell you, if I could."
"Ah, of course. Very well, now remember not to give away too much of what you discovered tonight," cautioned Garrick. "Best tell the Headmaster right away about what you witnessed in that alleyway, how Dudley Dursley was found and transported away to a Muggle hospital, because that old Kneazle lady will tell him the same. And you should tell him that you followed the adult Dursleys here and what they said and did. You were so distraught and shocked that you didn't notice what became of Potters things, all right? I recommend that you take a close look in both your forms at their house, inside and out, scan for body fluids."
Sirius gaped for a second, before he shut his mouth with an audible click. "Yes, yes, I'll do that. But how come you know of Arabella?" he blurted out.
Garrick rolled his eyes in annoyance, which Black couldn't see of course. "In contrast to your fellow Order members, I took my task of watching this house seriously, so I noticed what was going on and who was in the vicinity."
"Oh, right, I should be used to this by now. Although I don't understand at all how or why you could find and approach this house," muttered Sirius, before saying, "You cannot give me Harry's current address either, I suppose? I'd really like to speak with him in person as soon as possible."
"No, definitely not," Garrick retorted. "As I already explained, Potter doesn't want the Headmaster to know where he is. He said he fears that for one the person who currently shelters him will get in trouble and secondly that Dumbledore would force him back to Privet Drive. After what you experienced tonight, you understand Potter's concern, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Sirius agreed. "Although I cannot believe it. I cannot imagine that Dumbledore is aware of how bad the situation with the Muggles is or was. He wouldn't have left Harry in their care if he knew they hurt him. You said earlier that Harry was being healed and given potions. Was he in such a bad shape? Did his uncle beat him so much? I did smell blood."
"Indeed," replied Garrick, keeping the comment lying on his tongue about Dumbledore ruthlessly using people as pawns back. "Believe me, that boy was in a terrible shape when we rescued him. His uncle almost killed him earlier this evening. Potter escaped, but then the Dementors turned up. The cousin and his gang are responsible for considerable damage too. Potter said an hour ago he'd rather die by the Dark Lord's hand, than go back here. He was convinced his uncle would murder him on sight, if the cousin had suffered the Dementor's kiss."
Hearing this, Sirius nearly choked, feeling his insides turning from ash to lead and his heart thump in his throat. "That bad? How horrible, oh no!" he exclaimed agitated. "Why didn't anybody take notice? Why didn't Harry write me that he was so abused? And – and you and that other wizard, who followed Harry from the play park tonight, you saved his life? Wait, you said Dementors, as in more than one?"
"Yes we did, and there were at least two Dementors," Garrick corroborated. "So Black, I really must take my leave. You shouldn't have any problems to play the concerned godfather, frantic with worry. Take care not to break your vow. Dumbledore is a Legilimens, don't look him in the eyes if you cannot occlude properly."
"Yes, all right, thanks. Won't you tell me your name?" Sirius asked. He had so many more questions. And what of his debt? How to pay that back?
"No. See you, Black."
With a Crack, Garrick Disapparated away from Little Whinging. His next destination was in London, he needed to wake up his reporter contact post haste.
Sirius sighed, and set out to follow the advice he'd been given He had to admit, this bastard of a Death Eater was clever and not such a bastard at all. He didn't know what he should think of this encounter. Did the other wizard really speak the truth?
After finishing Hogwarts, when he trained to become an Auror, Sirius had learned to observe a crime scene and watch for clues, so he walked around the Dursley's house twice to get a feel for the property. Everything looked well-tended, clean, meticulous, too much. It was unnatural.
He went to the back door and silently cast Alohomora. Slipping inside he found himself in a very ordinary Muggle house. It was so clean and tidy it felt completely sterile, artificial.
In the hallway and sitting room he found numerous family photos of the Dursleys, but not one photo depicting Harry or his parents, and none of Lily and her sister as children or teenagers.
Sirius examined the ground floor and the first floor first as a wizard, and again as a dog. After he was finished, he was shaking with rage and feeling nauseated at the same time. He had discovered the cupboard under the stairs, and the room upstairs that was obviously used by Harry during the past summers. He couldn't bring himself to call this small, hot, stuffy, prison cell Harry's bedroom, with old, threadbare or broken furniture, bars in front the window and several locks on the outside of the door.
To Padfoot, the room reeked, it stank, there was no other word, of sickness and depravity, of old and new blood, sweat, vomit, piss and spunk. In the cupboard the same rotten smell had lingered, only very faint, years old. He couldn't stand the odour that assaulted his sensitive canine nose anymore and changed back to a man, trying not to gag and break down when his imagination showed him one horrible scenario after the other of Harry's probable suffering. Scanning spells highlighted droplets and scattered smears of blood and other bodily fluids on the bed, floor, desk, desk chair, wardrobe, windowsill and the walls.
A sequence of questions repeated itself endlessly in his aching, overcrowded mind. Why in Merlin's name hadn't anyone taken notice? Why hadn't Harry told him or his friends? And did the Headmaster and Harry's Head of house, Minerva McGonagall know of this, or not?
Sirius couldn't follow this train of thought further, because if someone else had taken notice, had suspected or known, or if the Headmaster had known of the neglect and abuse, what did that mean that they had left Harry to grow up here, to suffer like he did? And, what about how Harry had arrived here? Had Hagrid really just left him here on the doorstep on that November night?
There had to be another explanation, some mistake. Sirius just couldn't imagine that the venerable Headmaster or people like Poppy, Hagrid or the Weasleys would knowingly subject James' son, Harry Potter, the precious Boy Who Lived, to such danger and suffering. He remembered well how the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall had always supported the Gryffindors at school. They had favoured James and Sirius, they tolerated the pranks of the Marauders as boyish exuberance.
Sirius conveniently forgot that a Slytherin being treated unfairly hadn't interested the Headmaster or the teachers a rat's arse.
Several popping sounds outside caught his attention. Looking out of the window, he recognized the dark shapes milling about on the front lawn and the driveway as Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Arthur and Remus.
Taking several deep breaths, he did his utmost to center himself, push the horror, bewilderment and rage down and prepare a good story in his mind, before he went downstairs to greet his Order colleagues.
AN-2: I did some small edits to this chapter and others because of very observant readers. I hope I have caught all the errors now? Thanks especially to the Brit-pickers ;-) Rach and BloodyRose90!
For those of you who like more info:
On my profile is a Link to the wonderful online HP-Lexicon, where you can read the Essay about where Little Whinging might be located "In Search of Little Whinging" and the Map of Little Whinging and Privet Drive.
Also interesting is the research by Whitehound of the real life places (and the people) that inspired JKR, or the ideas of Whitehound where for example Hogwarts might be located in Scotland, or where Azkaban is, if it were 'real'.
On the profile u/889650/whitehound you will find the link to that, including a fine Britpick guide. After all, people like me need all the help they can get ;-) to not write total crap.