Chapter Thirty-Eight – The Black Dog
Harry sat at the top of the stairs, arms crossed and resting on his knees. Blaise was with him, seated so close that their elbows were touching. Oroboros, sometimes called Noodle, lay coiled about his waist, doing her best impression of a belt. The python had grown substantially over the summer, and was no longer able to pass herself off as a stylish bracelet.
The three of them watched as ministry officials combed over every inch of the house, muttering spells under their breath. Shimmering golden runes blossomed from the tips of their wands as they worked, hovering in the air for a moment before seeming to sink into walls, absorbed by the wood and plaster until they were no longer visible.
"Just a precaution, my dear Edana," explained Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, standing near the base of the staircase, "These are dangerous times, indeed. Everyone should take similar measures to increase the security of their homes."
Mrs. Zabini bristled at the familiarity of his address. There was obvious irritation in her tone when she replied, "And will your people invade every private home to ensure they receive the same protections?"
Harry glanced at Blaise as Fudge began to stammer out a few excuses. The reason for these extra precautions stared at Harry from the front page of the Daily Prophet, rolled loosely in one of Blaise's fists. A man, printed in black and white, with long matted hair and dark eyes, screamed madly over a caption warning all wizards to be on the lookout. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban.
The entire magical community was in an uproar, and for good reason. As far has Harry knew, no one had ever managed to escape from the wizard prison before. And no one, not even the Minister for Magic himself, could offer an explanation of how he had done it.
According to the Prophet, Black was a well-known supporter of Lord Voldemort, so it was no wonder why the Minister for Magic arrived on their doorstep with a team of Aurors. If Black had escaped with revenge on his mind, then the Boy Who Lived would be his first target.
"These wards will prevent anyone who means you harm from entering your home," Fudge was explaining to Mrs. Zabini, who continued to scowl at the wizards and witches stalking through her halls. Fudge made a sweeping gesture to indicate the great work they were all doing on her behalf, and Harry wondered how someone could act so ingratiating and condescending at the same time. "You will all be perfectly safe, provided you are inside the house or within the grounds. Though I must admit, Edana, I would put me more at ease if you agreed to a Secret Keeper..."
"Did having a Secret Keeper protect the Potters?" Mrs. Zabini replied testily.
Harry leaned forward, curious to hear his family name. Unfortunately, this slight movement drew Fudge's attention to the pair at the top of the stairs. He paled slightly at the sight of Harry, but he recovered with a wide smile and a voice far too loud, shouting, "Ah, and here's Harry Potter! I was beginning to wonder if I would see you today, my boy."
Harry gave him a weak and unenthusiastic greeting as Mrs. Zabini turned toward them. He could tell she was embarrassed, though she hid it well under a thick layer of impatience, having caught them eavesdropping.
"What do you think you're doing, lurking about?" she scolded.
"But we weren't lurking, mum," Blaise said, standing up on the landing as if to prove they hadn't been hiding, "We just wanted to see what spells they were using on the house."
"I don't want to hear your excuses. Outside, both of you," Mrs. Zabini commanded in a tone that brokered no more arguments. Harry and Blaise had no choice but to comply.
They marched down the stairs and slipped meekly past the minister and Mrs. Zabini, grabbing their broomsticks out of the cupboard before heading out the back door.
"Best stay within the garden, boys!" Fudge called after them, "We wouldn't want any accidents!"
"Does he think Black's going to jump out of mum's rosebushes or something?" Blaise muttered.
Harry shrugged. His mind was still on Mrs. Zabini. What did she mean when she mentioned the Potters?
He tried asking Blaise, but he merely shook his head.
"I've never heard her mention your parents before. I mean, she's talked about you of course, before I met you. All that boy who lived stuff we all grew up hearing about. But your parents? I guess I never heard much about them."
Among his friends, the fame Harry had garnered for defeating Lord Voldemort as a baby was rarely mentioned. It made him uncomfortable to hear Blaise talk about it so candidly now. He realized it was probably the same for Millie, their absent friend who was spending most of the summer with her parents. Like Blaise, she had probably known all about Harry before they'd ever met.
Thinking about this depressed him, and he searched for a new thread in the conversation.
"Do you think what your mum said had something to do with Black?" Harry said, testing the theory out loud. Black was in the forefront of everyone's minds these days, and the suggestion seemed logical to him, given what they had just heard.
"The only thing I know about Black is that he's mental. They say he went completely mad after you-know-who disappeared. They arrested him for murdering a whole bunch of muggles. And one wizard. Peter something. Pendegrew? Polliver? Petticoat? I can't remember now."
Blaise paused to direct a careful look at Harry, as if judging his reaction.
"Are you afraid of meeting him?"
Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure what to think about Sirius Black. Before he'd escaped from Azkaban, Harry had never even heard his name. It was difficult to imagine being afraid of him, especially after facing Lord Voldemort during both his first and second years at Hogwarts. If anything, Harry felt guilty for being a burden on Mrs. Zabini. She had agreed to take him in, rescuing him from another summer with the Dursleys, and for her pains she was being threatened with an escaped murderer. Harry knew she resented the ministry's interference, but he was grateful to Fudge for the extra protection. If anything were to happen to Mrs. Zabini or Blaise because of him, Harry wasn't sure what he would do.
Feeling more depressed now than he had during any summer with the Dursleys, Harry was grateful when he finally mounted his broomstick, ready for the welcome distraction.
Blaise deposited Oroboros in the grass near the back door, hissing, "Don't wander," to the snake in parseltongue before mounting his own broom. Harry and Blaise had continued to practice together over the past few weeks, and Blaise had mastered several short phrases in a brief period of time. He was now quite adept at giving simple commands to his pet snake, though he still required some explanation from Harry whenever Oroboros had something to say in response.
Oroboros had no trouble understanding Blaise's command. She remained on the stoop, sunbathing in the afternoon rays that warmed the red brick of the back step, while she watched the boys fly lazily overhead.
They tried to amuse themselves with a game of their own invention, involving a quaffle thrown back and forth between them. But since they couldn't fly outside the boundaries of the garden, and they weren't allowed to fly too high, lest Mrs. Zabini's muggle neighbors catch sight of them from the village, their sport wasn't much fun.
It was obvious that Blaise had other things on his mind as he threw the quaffle at Harry. It flew wide, slipping past Harry's outstretched fingers and crashing into the bushes beyond the garden gate.
"Sorry Harry!" Blaise called, cringing at his own mistake.
"It's fine!" Harry shouted back, swooping back toward the ground and dismounting at a jog. Without thinking anything of it, he jumped the short fence bordering the garden and went in search of the lost ball.
He heard the sound of Blaise's feet hitting the soft ground somewhere behind him, then his worried voice as he said, "Harry! We're supposed to stay in the garden!"
"It's fine," Harry repeated, "I'll just be a second."
He crouched low to the ground, searching for the quaffle under the bushes and undergrowth. He finally located the bright red ball nestled at the base of a tree, partially concealed by the branches of a few prickle bushes growing there. Cursing his bad luck, Harry lay fat on his stomach to drag the ball out from its hiding place, moving slowly to avoid poking himself on the bushes' sharp barbs.
"I got it!" Harry called triumphantly once the quaffle was free of the brambles. He sat back on his knees, and came face-to-face with a large, black dog.
Harry screamed and fell back, startled by the sudden appearance of the huge animal. The dog flattened its ragged ears against its head, but rather than bare its teeth at Harry, it gave a soft whine, as if in apology. It shied a few steps backward, as if preparing to flee, but it hesitated. Harry had already recovered from his initial shock, and breathing a sigh, he greeted the dog with a cautious, "Hello."
The animal seemed to be only waiting for this sign. With a friendly bark, it pounced onto Harry's chest, pushing him back into the dirt, tail wagging.
Blaise came bursting into the clearing, having sprinted to Harry in response to his cry. But instead of finding Harry in danger, he found him laughing as the dog continued to lavish him with affection.
"Mines of Moria, Harry! Where did he come from?" Blaise exclaimed.
"I dunno, he just appeared out of nowhere," Harry said, still laughing as he tried to push the dog off him. "Do you think he belongs to one of your neighbors?"
"I'd remember a dog like him," Blaise replied.
The animal was massive, reminding Harry strongly of his friend Hagrid due to his size and shaggy black coat. The long hair was tangled and matted in places, and although he was big, Harry could feel how thin he was under his thick fur. The boys agreed that he was most likely a stray.
"Poor guy, where did you come from?" Harry said in sympathy, feeling an immediate kinship with the skinny, black dog whose hair was as unkempt as his own.
Behind them, they began to hear frantic cries from the house. Blaise and Harry exchanged guilty looks. Blaise suggested they return, and Harry agreed wordlessly, though he patted his leg in an invitation for the dog to follow.
Harry grabbed the quaffle, having almost forgotten the reason he'd trekked out past the garden, and they made the short walk back to the house. The dog followed closely behind, though he seemed to be trying to hide his massive body behind the slighter forms of the two boys.
Mrs. Zabini stood on the back step, obviously worried. Fudge wasn't with her, which was a good sign that the ministry officials had finally finished their work.
"What do you two think you're doing?" Mrs. Zabini scolded, "I thought I told you to stay in the garden?"
Harry might have mentioned that she didn't tell them this, the minister did, but he thought better of it. Instead , he lifted the quaffle before him, as if shielding himself from the fury of Mrs. Zabini's glare.
"It's my fault, mum," Blaise said quickly, saving Harry from the embarrassment of explaining, "I threw the quaffle too hard and we had to go over the fence to get it."
"Over the fence," Mrs. Zabini repeated, passing a hand over her eyes, "And neither of you stopped to think of getting me or Torsh?"
Torsh was the Zabini family's house elf, a useful little creature who probably could have summoned their ball back with a snap of their fingers. Harry felt very foolish for not thinking of this sooner, but once again, Blaise was faster to respond to Mrs. Zabini's question.
"It was only a few feet from the fence, mum," he said, "And besides, we made a friend."
"A friend?" Mrs. Zabini asked in a cautious tone. Her eyes finally dropped to the lurking form of the black dog, still hovering at the edge of the garden, hesitant to follow Harry and Blaise over the fence, although the rail was so low the large dog might have easily stepped over it.
"He's big, but he's nice," Blaise said, "Can we keep him?"
Harry was always impressed by Blaise's casual way of asking his mother for what, in Harry's mind, amounted to extravagant gifts. Harry would never have the courage to ask himself, not after everything else Mrs. Zabini had already given him. But the truth was, he was glad Blaise had asked. He liked the dog, and thought maybe with such a huge beast around, he'd feel a little safer from a possible attack by Sirius Black.
But Mrs. Zabini took one long look at the dog, all matted fur and muddy paws, and gave a decided answer.
"Absolutely not."
"But mum!" Blaise began to argue, "He's a stray! He doesn't have anywhere else to go! We can't just leave him out here by himself."
"We already have two owls and a snake," Mrs. Zabini said, bending down to pluck Oroboros off the bricks at her feet and holding her out toward Blaise.
"But we don't have a dog."
Mrs. Zabini would not hear any further arguments.
"Those dreadful Aurors have finally left," she said, ignoring the rest of Blaise's pleas, "Now, both of you come inside for some supper. Torsh has in a frenzy making it all day."
Her tone and present sour mood would permit no further arguments, and Blaise was forced to concede defeat. He grabbed Oroboros from his mother's hands as he passed by, draping the python's sleek body over his shoulders as he walked down the hall, pouting. Harry followed, closely watched by Mrs. Zabini.
He cast one last look over his shoulder at the dog as he left. It was still seated at the edge of the garden, waiting patiently on the other side of the short picket fence.
"See you around," Harry said softly.
The dog gave a low whine, then turned and disappeared into the trees.