The day after Christmas, Harry woke slowly. He was comfortably warm, and there was the very familiar weight of Crookshanks on his stomach that seemed to indicate they had had a peaceful night.
Harry sighed a little, and made small, abortive movements towards stretching that promptly had Crookshanks mreow quiet complaints.
"Mmh," Harry apologised.
He nuzzled back into the pillow beneath him, perfectly happy to return to the stillness of sleep.
Then Harry's brow furrowed, and he blinked himself into something more like wakefulness.
It wasn't, in fact, a pillow underneath his head; it was a rather solid settee armrest. The fabric was rougher on his skin than pillows tended to be, probably due to the embroidery, Harry fuzzily realised. And his neck was in a rather uncomfortable angle.
There was also noise in the room around him. The fire was crackling, something was walking around the room and from the mad fluttering noises he could hear, there was presumably a bird trapped behind a curtain.
Ah. The crow.
Harry opened his eyes.
The first thing Harry noticed was that Kreacher had probably not slept much, as the sitting room had been put to rights: presents were organised into neat piles by recipient, the scrap wrapping paper had disappeared, and the fire had been topped up with fresh wood.
The room still smelled like Christmas: pine, freshly burning wood, and a hint of food that implied Sirius had already eaten.
The Christmas tree lights were still twinkling in the surprisingly well-lit room, and Harry could see evidence of four or five fairies having found their way to move into it. Harry briefly wondered if Sirius had snuck them into the warm house out of some form of sympathy; Azkaban haunted his memories in the oddest of ways sometimes. But currently, it seemed to be working out...
Specifically, the – potentially grateful? – fairies were engaged in teasing Padfoot with giggles and gentle tweaks. The great black dog was pacing around the Christmas tree in response with solemn focus, following their jumps and flutters anti-clockwise around the tree.
The bird that Crookshanks had gifted to him – the crow, Harry corrected himself – had taken advantage of Crookshanks' inattention to fly up towards a window and was currently clattering around behind the heavy drapery. He took a moment to resettle his glasses, straightening the frames on his nose and pushing them upwards for a firmer balance. Then he could see...
Harry ignored Crookshanks' sleepy protests this time, to force himself into a sitting position and track the bird's sounds. Was it trapped? Escaping? Or simply hiding from the Kneazle?
Crookshanks growled in irritation and abandoned Harry's stomach to rest in front of the fireplace instead. Harry oofed at little as the great cat leaped off him, his back legs digging into Harry's tender left hip and gut to propel his weight towards the floor.
Harry returned to searching for the crow.
By the time Harry had found it, somehow wrestling behind the velvet curtains despite them being open, he had come to realise that the bird seemed fine, if grumpy, and that he had slept in far later than usual.
That was when Kreacher popped into the room, bringing with him a plate of left-over Christmas baking for breakfast and a strong cup of tea.
"The young master is having a good rest," the house elf pronounced with pleasure. "The young master is feeding himself healthy now."
Harry freed his legs from the Invisibility Cloak that had wrapped around his shins and reached out to grab the food.
"Cheers," he said, finally fighting off the last of the sleepiness. His stomach rumbled at that precise moment, causing Harry to blush. "I…what time is it, Kreacher? How late did I sleep?"
Kreacher nodded at him in sombre pleasure. "The young master is sleeping in until almost midday."
So that was why he'd noticed the room was so bright. Huh.
"I see." Harry took a few moments to ferry the food and drink to his lips. "So what's the plan for today then?"
"We is having twelve days of Christmas to honour," Kreacher reminded him. "The naughty master is needing to do the golden candle today, and we is feasting on Yule-light blessed bread."
Harry aborted a half-hearted attempt to grab a quill and parchment, habitually wanting to take notes.
"Ohh," he muttered, wetting his throat with a sip of tea. "So that's what the other coloured candles were for. So what does that mean? Is it, like, a highly organised day?"
Kreacher shook his head fondly. Harry had the sudden impression that a garden gnome was inordinately fond of him, but then he blinked his eyes and Kreacher's face came back into focus. "Wizards is resting up today. The Second Day of Christmas is a quiet day for the young master."
"Mmm." Harry decided he needed a quiet day if his eyes – or imagination – had anything to say about it, and took another, longer draught of his tea.
He thought for a moment.
"Do you think the Post Office is open today, if I pop out for half an hour or so? I think I'll have been sent presents and all; I'll need to get on with the thank you notes sooner or later. Is it worth me slipping out to pick them all up today?"
Repressively, Kreacher frowned at him. "The young master Harry is needing his rest, and is putting off his duties for another day."
The thought, taking an actual holiday, was a pleasant one, and Harry found himself breathing slowly and settling into the softness of the settee beneath him. He sipped the hot tea thoughtfully, while Kreacher eyed his body language with smug satisfaction. "I – wait," Harry's hands jerked to a halt, tea sloshing a little in the bottom of his cup.
Kreacher scowled, but Harry ignored it. There was this sudden and horrible feeling...
"Midday, did you say? Did an owl turn up yesterday? Or this morning?"
"The young master is now having a crow," Kreacher offered grimly, one hand demanding that Harry relax again and reclaim that sense of peace.
"Wait. Damn. No!" Harry tried to scramble up from his seat, adrenaline returning to his system. "No, no, no. I spoke to an owl a, well, a couple of days ago now? Sent him to the Malfoys with a job to do. Said he'd come back to me when it all worked out. No one's come past for bacon or anything?"
Dobby.
Kreacher refused to take the offered plate, leaving Harry half-risen from the settee and frozen awkwardly, his plate and tea cup still held in each hand. There was a sudden clatter as the world's most expensive broomstick slipped out from beneath Harry's elbow and fell onto the floor.
Harry flinched. He'd forgotten about it, in all the…everything.
From his hunt of the fairies, Padfoot's head snapped around and he barked once at Harry's disrespect.
"Crap, sorry Kreacher. Sirius…damn, hang on…" Harry spent a few long moments trying to organise himself, but he had priorities, damn it, and he still lacked at least two arms for what he wanted to do and Kreacher stepped backwards and away so that Harry couldn't force the food back on him while his head spun with half-formed plans and stifled breath burned in his chest...
In front of Kreacher's sternly crossed arms, Harry finally downed the hot tea in one large gulp and then stuffed the remnants of his breakfast into his mouth.
Dobby. Then Harry froze. Oh Merlin: The Secret.
"Hmmm-mm-mm!" he insisted, cheeks bulging.
Having eliminated the obstacle of breakfast, which scratched his throat and tried to choke him because of the rate of his swallowing, Harry was ready to address this suddenly urgent issue.
He looked up, Kreacher still standing two feet away, to desperately demand some answers.
Sirius, a wizard again, stood in front of Harry, arms crossed and a somewhat teasing grin on his face. Harry hoped it was a teasing grin, anyway.
"Harry Potter."
"Sorry about the broom, Sirius. Hey, Kreacher –"
Sirius didn't seem to get the urgency of the situation. "Godson of my own. Prongslet. Pup!"
Harry nodded, apologetically. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I mean, I guess I fell asleep with it in my arms and…now I just think that it's part of me? Didn't even consider if could fall, y'know?" Brushing off Sirius with lies was almost a habit now.
But Dobby. The Secret.
"Look, Kreacher, are you sure –"
Sirius raised an eyebrow and refused to be pushed aside. "After I poured twelve years' worth of love and hope into it? After I half-cleared out my Gringotts' vault for you? After you told me you'd never even imagined owning such a precious broomstick?"
Harry pasted on an apologetic face. "I screwed up, Sirius, okay? I'm really sorry, but if you could just wait for a couple of minutes…Kreacher, sorry to be so repetitive: you're saying that no owl ha–"
Sirius beamed. "You know how you could make it up to me, Pup? In apology for such shameless ingratitude?"
Harry shot him a distracted glance. "Sirius, if you could wait just a couple of minutes?"
"You could give me another Christmas gift!" Sirius beamed, looking inordinately proud of himself. "I wouldn't mind a rat, you know." He wriggled his eyebrows in what he assumed was an appealing manner.
Stress returned with a vengeance. The throbbing, drilling headaches; the sinking stomach; the cold ball of guilt and worry rocked up to Harry's body and hit him with all the force of a bludger.
Harry swallowed the swear word that had immediately come to his lips.
All of a sudden, there was a huge lump in his throat, and Harry took a few moments to work really hard, trying to swallow it.
"Ah," he finally managed intelligently, one hand drifting to grab hold of his suddenly aching stomach. "Right, um. Well…perhaps we could talk about this, um, later?"
Unfortunately, Sirius was on a roll.
"So Pup, I was thinking I could come to Hogwarts with you when you go back. I've got a traitor to hunt, and I think I'm well enough to head out now, y'know?"
Harry stifled a whimper of stress while his eyes darted between the two figures in front of him. "Just…hang on a moment. Kreacher, have you seen anything maybe hanging outside the wards?"
Sirius continued. "I know you've been looking after me, kid. I mean, it seems I wasn't in such good shape when I found you. You and Kreacher have been feeding me up and keeping me warm and clean and all – don't think I haven't noticed – but now I think I'm well enough to leave this place and, y'know."
Harry's quick glance at Sirius caught his shoulders dancing up and down, for all the world like a young child at Christmas, bouncing in excitement.
"Kreacher is not seeing any owls, in the wards or not," the croaky little voice of the house elf interrupted.
"Ngh!" Harry's hands shook. "Bollocks." Harry turned back to Sirius. "Ah, well, I mean…Keeping you safe is my priority, y'know? Ah, Kre– "
Sirius grinned, and raked a lazy hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "I reckon having a goal again would set me to rights, kid."
Harry's eyes a widen and suddenly the fluttering racket of the crow in the curtain seemed to be paralleling the irregular thudding of his heart.
"Look." Harry grasped his hands tightly together so that the knuckles turned pale with blood-loss. "I've lost an owl, alright? Sent it to the Malfoys to free their house-elf. I had his permission and all. But they're missing. I mean, I don't know where they are."
Sirius chuckled, a low canine laugh that seemed utterly inappropriate in the face of Harry's frazzled state. "You 'n me both, kid. I've lost the rat. I know exactly how you feel."
Emerging from the fog of worry, Harry allowed one single eyebrow to rise. "Er…no, not exactly. Could you let me just deal with this for a– "
Sirius shrugged. "Well, you probably don't want to murder Crookshank's wee gift, so we're different in that respect, but it's an all-consuming thought for you right now, yeah?"
Harry spared a moment for the incongruous ridiculous of the moment. "Look, I sent off the Secret to this place with the owl! And now I don't know who's got what, or where they are, and I've had plans for this for ages and they're all going wrong!"
Sirius, still not understanding the stress, reached over and ruffled Harry's hair fondly. "Don't you worry your head about that, Harry. We can head out to Hogwarts any day now, and losing the security of this place won't really matter."
Harry and Kreacher shared a glance.
"Do you think it's because silver polish is dangerous in flight? Did my transfiguration screw up?"
From his place in front of the fire, Crookshanks shot Harry a disappointed look. Harry arrested himself with a sudden indrawn breath, and took a moment to recentre with Occlumency.
The room was silent except for Harry's heavy breathing that slowed, and then calmed. Harry squeezed his eyes closed to a long moment and then opened them slowly, fighting for a slow, low voice.
Stepping backwards carefully, Sirius melted back down into the form of Padfoot and sat at Harry's feet, tongue lolling, head cocked to one side.
"I…look, can we talk in half an hour or so, Sirius? Kreacher, I – "
"I figure you could give me the run of Gryffindor Tower for a couple of days..."
"What are the chances of you contacting the Malfoy house-elves, Kreacher?"
"The nasty bugger has probably decided I can't get into Hogwarts, y'see," Sirius grinned. "Now would be the perfect time to–"
Harry leaned forward in urgency. "What about tracking owl flight?" He fixed Kreacher with a feverish gaze. "We need to see if the parcel got delivered, if it passed into Lucius' hands–"
"There's this one spot in Hogwart's grounds where I could take him and torture him to my heart's content." Sirius beamed, incongruously. "You're welcome to watch, if you want, Harry."
Harry bit down on a thumb-nail compulsively. "Perhaps the Owl Post people–"
That's when a massive CRACK interrupted with silence of a room, and Dobby arrived, the parchment of Grimmauld Place's Secret flapping wildly in his left hand.
"MISTER HARRY POTTER SIR!" Dobby bellowed, utterly unaware of the wide-eyed shock coming from all the inhabitants of the room. "DOBBY IS ALWAYS KNOWING THAT HARRY POTTER IS THE KINDEST AND WISEST OF WIZARDS!"
Harry exhaled. His head spun with the sudden drop of blood pressure that causes his eyesight to flicker with darkness.
Dashing forward, Dobby connected solidly with Harry's knees, and hugged them with far more strength than Harry was comfortable with.
"Erk!"
Dobby sobbed somewhere close to Harry's right hip, and the compliments kept coming. "Dobby is believing that Harry Potter sir is keeping his promise! When Dobby is needing to iron his fingers, or punish himself with the hot poker, Harry Potter sir, Dobby is keeping the faith!" Harry missed the next bit due to the muffling effect of his winter robe, but then Dobby's mouth resurfaced from within the folds of fabric. "Dobby is always, always thinking that Harry Potter would come for him as he promised!"
"Ah," Harry looked hopefully at Kreacher, and then Crookshanks, neither of whom seemed willing to step forward and help him out. Even the crow seemed to have stopped its whatever-it-was-doing to quietly observe the chaos that was Harry's life.
Where Padfoot had sat mere moments ago, now Sirius Black stood frozen, replacement wand out, and looking utterly discomforted by the sudden intrusion.
Harry felt Dobby's tears soak into his woollen robe, and stifled a wince.
Carefully, Harry patted the little house-elf's shoulder. "I'm glad you made it, Dobby. Um, Happy Christmas?"
Unsurprisingly, Dobby let out a very large wail and hugged Harry's thighs harder. "Dobby will repay the Great Harry Potter!" he promised through his emotional shudders. "Dobby is remembering, house-elves is remembering, what Harry Potter sir is doing."
"I…thanks, Dobby." Harry fought to regain his equilibrium, so much emotional change in the last three minutes still keeping him off-balance.
Slowly, Sirius straightened from his defensive stance and began putting his wand away. "So this is your little friend, eh Harry? Quite the loyal one you've found yourself there."
Harry was halfway through his answer when he felt Dobby stiffen, still around his knees. Then Dobby slowly turned around to face the room. There one a long moment of sizzling tension when Dobby and Kreacher met eyes, and then Dobby continued turning, letting go of Harry – finally – to face the Christmas tree, with Sirius in front of it, just as Sirius finished tucking his wand out of sight.
"Dobby," Harry began with a smile of massive relief. "Meet –"
Dobby stiffened, and let out another loud cry; this time a massive war cry. "Aaaaa-iiieeeee!" Dobby shrilled, and everyone else stiffened in panic. "NAUGHTY DARK WIZARD!"
Harry wanted to throw up.
"DOBBY WILL PROTECT HARRY POTTER FROM THE BAD BLACK WIZARD. DIE!"
Harry seemed to see in slow motion as Dobby's knobby finger slowly moved towards his godfather.
"KREACHER!" Harry bellowed.
"BAD HOUSE-ELF!" Kreacher screeched, and was somehow, suddenly, inexplicably, between Sirius and his aggressor, looking furious and menacing and defensive all at once.
Sirius flailed for his wand again, utterly confused and uncoordinated.
Crookshanks stood up defensively.
Then the Post Owl swooped into the room, barking demandingly for attention and swooped towards Harry in a huge silent shadow.
"PROTECT HARRY POTTER!" Dobby roared.
"KREACHER WILL DEFEND THE HOUSE OF BLACK!" echoed back.
"THE NAUGHTY WIZARD—"
"FOR THE YOUNG MASTER—"
Beneath the bellowing voices, Harry heard a tiny "Huh?" coming from Sirius' direction.
He looked up to find the post owl had almost reached him, legs extended to land on his shoulder. Harry barely had time to spare it a glance, but—
It was bowled over by the impact of a very angry crow coming from the left and the whole room descended into absolute chaos.
Flashes and bangs came from the Kreacher-Dobby confrontation. Sometimes they seemed to throw house-elf magic at each other. The fairies in the Christmas tree shrilled in panic and darted out of the room.
A flutter of feathers drifted in front of his vision, and Harry saw the two birds entangled and scrapping madly; both brown and black feathers were torn out of wings by claws and beaks and the impact of the birds against walls and floor and furniture.
The Christmas tree toppled over with a massive crash, Kreacher and Dobby's vicious wrestling having bowled into its trunk, upsetting its balance.
"FOR HARRY POTTER!" Dobby shouted as he grabbed Kreacher by the ear and tried to slam his head onto the floor.
"FOR THE YOUNG MASTER!" Kreacher yelled back, before trying to bite through one of Dobby's fingers.
Sirius hopped backwards, away from the threat, but apparently knew that his magic would not work well on hoes-elves. Of course, maybe he just didn't want to make Dobby any angrier. He shifted back into Padfoot and began barking loudly; Harry had no idea what he was trying to do.
Harry had his wand out, almost apparating it to his hands, but he stood there unmoving, only his wand tip jittering between house-elves and post owl and crow and the falling range of furniture and decorations and—
Mistress Black's fine china: the tea cup that Harry had just emptied – was it minutes ago? – crashed to the floor and shattered into four separate pieces. A tiny dribble of tea dregs tickled into the expensive carpet rug.
"EVIL LITTLE HOUSE-ELF!"
"NAUGHT ELF, PROTECTING THE BAD WIZA—"
"—HURTING THE YOUNG MASTER'S FAVO—"
"—BY WILL PUNISH THE EVIL—"
"—HELP THE POOR YOUNG M—"
The scrapping birds tumbled Harry's way again, and he ducked the flailing wings and wickedly sharp claws that reached and scratched. The smaller crow was holding its own against the larger owl: inner rage and the layout of the room prevented the larger bird from gaining altitude and spreading its wings.
Wand still wavering futilely, Harry searched the room for Crookshanks, but the great orange Kneazle was missing.
"—KILL THE BAD WIZARD TO PROTE—"
With a small rush of flames, the fire from the yule log caught the drying tip of the Christmas tree – still rocking gently where it fell – and an orange finger of flame began creeping out of the fireplace.
"—IN DEFENSE OF THE GOOD MAST—"
"Impervius," Harry cast, having learned from the salamander's hut back in second year that the spell did work against fire for a short while. The creeping flames fought bravely, but began to die down as they lost their purchase on the pine.
There was an absurdly quiet creak from the ceiling.
Arresto momentum, Harry shot at the falling chandelier, having been brushed one too many times by the careening birds. With a quick and generous, "Molliare," Harry cushioned the whole floor: to catch the falling debris, to limit the damage to the elves and the birds.
"—DOBBY MUST SERVE—"
Harry tried Immobulus next, and then when the owl and the crow crashed to the floor in an ungainly pile of feathers and limbs. A single Christmas bauble was caught beneath them, and shattered into a small pile of glitter and dust as they rocked where they had fallen, frozen by Harry's Freezing Charm.
"Petrificus totalus," eliminated the chaos that was Padfoot, causing his limbs to snap up into an uncomfortable-looking 'sit', and jamming his mouth closed with a snap. Harry caught his silent glare of betrayal, but didn't have time to worry about it for now.
The roiling ball of house-elves crashed into the settee that Harry had slept on, and half of it disintegrated into splinters from a stray spell. Harry gulped.
"—INSIDE THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOU—"
"—EVIL WIZARD MUST DI—"
Harry dashed forward and collected the two birds from where they lay.
"Don't fight," he instructed sternly. "Neither of you are a threat to me; I'll sort this out in a minute." Neither bird looked impressed.
From a slight twitch of a wing, Harry could tell that the spell was going to wear off rather soon, and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Merline, Morgana and Maeve: please?" He levelled a stern glare at both birds. "You're not enemies, you hear me? I'll give you your bacon and patch you both up in a minute. If I see you fighting again, I will not be pleased. Just...please?"
Even frozen, their furious attitudes shone through clearly. "This is your one warning," Harry told them. Half-begged them. Then he gently separated the two creatures and stored them both on either side of himself, several feet apart from each other.
"Now." Harry gazed bleakly ahead at the remaining chaos in the room: two furious house-elves involved in an escalating battle of fury. The strange scent of ozone and the crackle of inhuman magics sparked like mountains storms and dropped the temperature in the room by at least a few degrees. Harry didn't even notice the two small steps backwards that he took for sheer survival. "Now what shall I try?"
"OI!" Harry tried, but his shout didn't attract their attention. "Hey! You two!" Absently, Harry charmed the Christmas tree to move away from the fire and lean up against a far corner of the wall.
"YOU'RE BOTH ON THE SAME SIDE!" Harry tried, but his voice was drowned out by calls of:
"—PUNISHMENT FOR THE EVIL WIZARD—" and
"—ND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK SHALL NOT BE—" and
"—THE GREAT AND NOBLE HARRY POTTER SHOULD—"
It wasn't visible in normal eyesight, but Harry's odd vision came back and he saw glowing spots of something billow and roil out from the nexus of elf combat.
Another glance around the room was necessary to catch his breath; it wasn't as bad as he thought - only the house-elves were out of control now, Sirius was temporarily made incapable through indecision and the birds had been neutralised for now. Having alleviated the worst of the chaos, Harry finally found his mind slowing and calming. Why it couldn't function like this when he had most needed it to, he didn't know, but finally, his brain was on his side and Harry thought through the issues.
He couldn't simply cast magic on an elf. Their magic wouldn't let him. But the room was slowly being cleared around them, Harry's wand quietly creating the space by floating furniture towards the walls, and soon it was only Kreacher and Dobby on the rug.
The fight had descended from non-human magics crackling around the room to something less otherworldly but rather more 'violent' – some subconscious realisation that Harry was now involved in the fight, perhaps? Dobby and Kreacher were now taking turns to punch each other in the face.
Some of the rug beneath them was singed, their pillow-case-togas were torn into rags, and both house-elves were bleeding on the face and knuckles – a surprisingly tiny amount, Harry noticed, eyebrows raised.
He watched the rhythm of the fight for a moment: one punch, the recoil; another punch, the pause.
Harry stuffed his wand back into his mokeskin pouch, and then unhooked it from its constant place around his neck. Then he took off his glasses.
"Listen," Harry told the unnamed crow, which had nevertheless come to his 'defence' against the unfamiliar post owl. "If something goes wrong, just make sure that Crookshanks and Kreacher get rid of the horcruxes. Can you do that for me?"
It rolled the one eye that Harry could blurrily see, and Harry took that as a yes.
"Right," Harry said, feeling suddenly like it was first-year – or second-year – all over again. All impulse and luck. "Here goes nothing."
As it always did, his body and mind calmed when it came to action, and Harry took a flying leap into the middle of the fighting house-elves, hoping wildly that since they both liked him they would hold back their attacks.
He landed heavily, on a couple of elbows and knobby knees and more solid bone that two tiny house-elves had any business having. There may have also been a punch, but it was a glancing blow and Harry really didn't notice in through the uncomfortable feeling of a knee in his diaphragm.
Their bellowing cries cut off in surprise. Harry took the chance to breathe and raised his arms, protecting his face.
"…Harry Potter?" Dobby asked from mostly below Harry, his voice rumbling up from Harry's armpit.
A sudden barrage of orange appeared in Harry's peripheral view, and then it was Kreacher's weight rocked backwards asking, "Crookshanks?" in a rather hoarse voice.
Crookshank's has him, was Harry's immediate thought, and suddenly figured that things would be alright.
"We're all on the same side," Harry insisted in the sudden, baffled silence. "Even Sirius, Dobby. He's my godfather, and he's innocent."
Beneath Harry's incredibly uncomfortable form, Dobby stiffened. "The evil wizard is…not?"
Behind Harry, Kreacher snorted, his voice sounding muffled by what was presumably the impressive weight of Crookshank's body. "House-elves is usually knowing not to be trusting everything wizards be saying."
"Dobby is…wrong?"
Harry let go of all the tension he was carrying in his shoulders, and his head spun again. Something twinged in his shoulder and his rib creaked as he carefully manoeuvred his way off Dobby's left knee.
Step by step, Harry slowly made his way upright, cataloguing a range of tenderness and slowly blossoming bruises as he did.
"Shall we all side down for a nice cup of tea?" Harry asked hopefully. "I've got to heal up the birds and you two need to find some more clothe—cloth. Cloth. And then perhaps shall we talk? Calmly? And sort all this stuff out?"
There was hope for things yet.