Chapter Nine
A Horrible Night to have a Curse

The next morning, they piled into a bunch of Ministry cars, finally on the way to Hogwarts.

Harry said goodbye to Sirius - it wasn't worth trying to get him up on the train, so he had planned to make his way to Hogsmeade, separately.

When they arrived at the station, Mr. Weasley seemed intent on shepherding Harry himself - he kept a tight grip on her arm the whole way through the barrier. Harry, for her part, patiently endured yet another trip to King's Cross while manhandled by a Weasley parent.

Once they'd gotten their stuff on the train and Harry had endured Mrs. Weasley's tender goodbyes, Mr. Weasley pulled her aside, mind whirling with the need to warn her.

"Harry," he said. "There's something I have to tell you before you leave."

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"It's Sirius Black. Now, I don't want you to be frightened, but he might be after you. We think that's why he broke out of prison."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Weasley."

"Harry, I know you must be scared, but-"

"I'm not scared of Sirius Black," Harry protested. She could see that he was just worried for her, but that didn't help her frustration. She'd made it through this summer looking after herself. And, now that she was safe, suddenly everyone knew better than her, for her own safety.

"Look, I know that you can handle yourself. Just - just stay in the castle, okay? Don't go looking for him."

"Alright."

Mr. Weasley was clearly thrown by that, but he just nodded.

"Arthur! Harry has to go!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

"Coming!"

Harry had to run to hop onto the train, but she made it, and settled into a compartment with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and R. J. Lupin. He had a small, battered trunk, and shabby, threadbare robes. He was also fast asleep.

"What did Dad want?" Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged. "He wanted to warn me off Black. Your dad thinks he's broken out to kill me."

Ron and Hermione exchanged significant looks. Harry ignored them. She didn't want to dignify that with an answer.

Ginny looked between them all, and turned to Harry. She wasn't dumb, and Harry could see that she was well used to Ron's terrible attempts at subtlety. Honestly, they weren't fooling her. Reading people's minds made it very easy to tell, really.

"I've been meaning to ask…" Ginny began, instead. "What's with the new look?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. Ginny reached out and touched the rose, in Harry's ear.

"Oh!" Harry said. "It's actually really neat." She wound it out from her ear, and handed it to Ginny. "It's supposed to style it, with magic."

Ginny took it, and wound it through her flame-red locks. "Sounds neat." She was pleased, and a little jealous - Harry hadn't even realized, but something like this was really very expensive. Ginny was rather more aware of the cost of things. Harry wasn't - the Potters were old rich money.

"New Defense teacher, do you reckon?" Ron changed the subject.

"That's obvious," Hermione put in. "It's the only vacancy."

"He looks like one good hex would finish him off," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, but Lockhart seemed like he would be an excellent teacher," Harry pointed out. "If the pattern holds true, Lupin will be great."

"I dunno," Ron said, eyeing him. "Maybe we should wait till his class, to see how he is. Can't just judge him by appearances, you know?"

"Right," Harry agreed.

"Do you hear that?" Ginny asked abruptly.

A faint whistle came, seemingly from nowhere. The sound echoed around the compartment, sounding oddly metallic.

"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," Ron said. He reached up into the luggage compartment, but he couldn't open Harry's trunk.

"Oh, right," Harry said. "I, er…" This was awkward. "Right." She looked around at the group. "This doesn't leave this room, alright?"

They all nodded, dumbly.

"I put a password, on the trunk. But, uh, it's in Parseltongue."

"You can speak Parseltongue!?" Hermione half-shrieked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I set a boa constrictor on Dudley once. It was a fun afternoon."

"Mate, that's-" Ron cleared his throat. He was obviously censoring his initial reaction. Harry didn't need to be a mind-reader to know that. "I can see why you haven't told anyone yet. It's supposed to be only Dark wizards that can speak it."

"The two most famous Parselmouths in history were Salazar Slytherin and You-Know-Who," Hermione informed them. "It's associated with Dark wizards."

"In British history," Harry said, tone deceptively mild. "It's apparently much more common in other places, like India, or southeast Asia. In fact, in those places, it's seen as a blessing." They looked at her, curiously. She shrugged. "It's hereditary, so I looked it up. It's probably more likely that I got it from my grandmother's family - the Blacks."

"It would be really, really bad for that to come out," Ron said. "Why didn't you say anything, though?"

"Never came up."

Hermione nodded, eagerly. She wanted to make up for her reaction, then.

Ginny, who had been quiet up till now, piped up. "I won't say anything. Promise."

"Alright," Harry said. "Open." And the trunk clicked open. Inside, her Pocket Sneakoscope was whirring - spinning very fast in the palm of her hand.

"It's very cheap," Ron muttered, his ears turning red. More worries about money, huh. It really wasn't a thing to her.

"A Sneakoscope?" Hermione asked.

"It might be broken," Harry said. "Or, who knows, it might be going off." She trailed her eyes meaningfully towards Lupin.

"It went off when I was trying to send it to Harry," Ron explained.

"Were you doing something you weren't supposed to?"

"Well, I wasn't really supposed to be using Errol," Ron said.

Ginny snorted. Hermione turned to her, and reached out. Ginny's hair had twisted itself into a tight braid. "How does it choose which hairstyle to do?"

Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope into a pair of nasty old socks, and shut the trunk with a clatter. Ron stood up, and leveraged it back up to the luggage rack for her.

"Thanks," she said to Ron. To Hermione, she shrugged. "I have no idea how it works, but it does."

"We can get the Sneakoscope checked in Hogsmeade, if you like," Ron offered, sitting back down. "They sell them in Dervish and Banges - Fred and George told me."

"I read that Hogsmeade is the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain," Hermione said.

"Yeah, but that's not why I want to go," Ron interjected. "I want to visit Honeydukes!"

"Honeydukes?"

"It's a famous sweets shop," Ron explained, and then he went into detail about all the things that the shop sold - Pepper Imps, and Chocoballs, Fizzing Whizbees, and the like.

Hermione, meanwhile, launched into a regurgitation about the historical significance of Hogsmeade, and all the landmarks within.

Harry stayed quiet, studiously eyeing the countryside.

"You don't seem all that excited," Ginny pointed out. She'd noticed, definitely.

"I can't go," Harry said.

Ron abruptly stopped talking about sweets. "You're not allowed to go? But - no way - surely McGonagall or someone would give you permission…"

Harry laughed.

"Or we can ask Fred and George, if they know a way out of the castle-"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of school!"

"McGonagall is going to say the same thing," Harry said. "But I already know a way to sneak out of the castle."

"Harry!"

"Excellent," Ron said. "We can sneak you out easily, then."

"I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of school," Hermione countered.

"Just because her relatives are a bunch of no-good, dirty gits doesn't mean that she shouldn't be allowed to go to Hogsmeade. It's not fair!" Ron protested.

"Of course it's not, but that doesn't mean it's right to sneak out of school, either."

"Whatever, Hermione," Ron said.

Harry just leaned back, and ignored them.

Harry started awake. The last thing she remembered was a woman screaming like she was being murdered. Blinking open her eyes, she was a concerned-looking Ron peering down at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Harry nodded, feeling concussed.

"Who screamed?"

"Harry, no one screamed," Hermione told her, gravely. Harry felt for it - the memory was on the tip of her mind. She was telling the truth.

"Oh," Harry said. "Fun, huh?"

"Harry, you passed out," Neville said, wringing his hands. He was horrified, but Harry wanted to tell him not to worry so much. But it was one of those things - she couldn't exactly do that inconspicuously.

"Oh, you noticed?"

Ron helped her up, snickering.

Lupin snapped chocolate, and passed it around. "Eat this," he instructed. His mind was odd. She kept away from it. Was that what Occlumency felt like? "You'll feel better."

Harry took it, numbly, hands trembling. "What was that?"

"A Dementor," Lupin explained. "One of the guards of Azkaban." He didn't elaborate, however - he practically fled the compartment, looking shiftily around.

"It was horrible," Neville agreed. "Like I'd never be happy again."

"The dementor came for you, and it just looked, like it was gonna grab you, Harry," Ron explained. "And then Lupin got up, and he kinda growled, and told it to go away, and it did."

"Spooky," Harry said.

Ron rolled his eyes, but he looked relieved to see that she was feeling better enough to joke at him. The rest of them muttered about the effects of the dementor, but Harry, it seemed, was the only one that fainted. They were all worried, and a little bit freaked out by the experience. Harry was a little bit numb. She closed down that sense - it wasn't a nice feeling, feeling all those minds around her, so on edge.

Lupin came back, smiling, and announced that they'd be arriving soon. Harry was only too happy to leave the awkwardness that had settled, after being visited by a strange nightmare-wraith. She just wanted to go to bed - maybe write to Cecilia a bit, if she got the chance. And Lupin's mind was odd. She didn't want to touch it until she was in a better state of mind. It was a bit unnerving, really.

But instead, she was shepherded by Ron up to the carriages, all the way to the castle. Ron seemed to be careful to make sure she didn't faint again, or wander off, or something. She could take care of herself - maybe it was the Legilimency, that made her more susceptible to dementors.

Malfoy attempted to mock her for fainting to the dementor. Ron protested in her defense, but Harry just whipped out her wand and hit him with a Babbling Hex, instead. He thought her weak. She couldn't have that.

"Is there a problem?" Lupin asked, from out of nowhere. He apparently was capable of being silent, when he wanted to be. She hadn't even noticed him. Another weird thing.

Malfoy turned pink, and said, "Boo moo choo choo."

Lupin frowned, and cast Finite.

"She cursed me!"

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Harry just shrugged. "Chat shite, get banged," she said. Words of wisdom from Gin.

His eyes seemed to flicker, and Harry risked a glimpse - but instead of a calm pool of water, a raging rapids hid behind his eyes. She could sense nothing - or, perhaps, too many things to parse.

"Detention, I think," he said. "Since I'm not sure I can even take points before the start of term."

Harry laughed, and brushed by him, into the Entrance Hall. There was something darkly satisfying about hexing Malfoy like that, but she knew that she'd need to learn something more. He clearly wasn't developing the necessary fear of her with just the Babbling Hex. Something to ask Cecilia about, for sure.

"Granger!" McGonagall barked, full of strange thoughts about… time travel? Hermione went along to her. They walked off, away from the feast.

"What was all that about, d'ya reckon?" Ron asked Harry.

She shrugged. "Beats me." Explaining would be a lot of effort, even if it explained the whole classes thing.

They settled into the table to watch the Sorting, and Harry found herself exhausted, and her headache pounding, for the second year in a row. The Hall was full of black robes, and the seething masses of humanity were overwhelming to her senses. There were just too many minds, full of too many emotions. She didn't want to bother with them, and it hurt, trying not to feel anything.

Flitwick placed the hat upon the stool, and it sang again - Harry tuned it out, settling her head onto Ron's shoulder.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Tired. The dementor took a lot out of me," Harry told him.

"Ah," he said, and spooned a bunch of chicken onto her plate. "Eat this, and then you can sleep."

Harry narrowed her eyes at him, and for once, resisted seeing what he was thinking. "Fine, fine. Slave-driver."

He made a whipping motion. Harry ignored him.

Hermione and McGonagall finally arrived back in the Hall, Hermione easing into a seat next to Ron.

"What was that all about?" he asked, but Dumbledore got up to speak.

"Hello, hello, hello!" he said. He gave a speech - about dementors, and the new professors this term - Remus Lupin as the Defense professor, and, surprisingly, Hagrid, as the new Care of Magical Creatures one. That explained the biting book, then.

Harry grinned. It looked like a good year to come, dementors notwithstanding.

The dog padded down the street, easy as anything. He wasn't quite nearly so ragged, anymore - he had gained weight, recently, and he was now merely thin, instead of skeletal. He arrived at Number Four, the same place he'd been nearly a month before.

The house was empty, and so the dog hopped over the fence and around the back. He padded softly up to the back door, where he turned into a man.

Sirius Black prided himself on his abilities as a prankster. He could have come here and tortured Petunia Evans and her new family to kingdom come, but he was a prankster. Sure, it would be awful, but pranks had a whole dimension of torment. This would be the gift that kept on giving. Far worse than just pain.

Really, everyone thought that his cousin Bella was the scariest Black, but he thought she was somewhat uninspired. There were only so many times you could cast disembowelment curses before they became trite.

This, on the other hand - he was hoping that this would torment Petunia for years to come.

He unlocked the door, and stepped in. The house was ghastly - Grimmauld Place was better, and that had been decorated by his mum. She might have been an old cow obsessed with black and green and silver, and entirely too fond of snakes, but she wasn't… this. Whatever this was. Antiseptic, sterile, like a hospital room. Not much like a home. He was glad that Harry didn't have to come back to these people.

Awful - the worst kind of Muggles. Sirius Black wasn't a man who hated Muggles - no, he was a man who hated Petunia.

He stepped into hall, past the garish linoleum, and up the stairs. He was looking for that bitch's bedroom, that she shared with her fat whale of a husband.

Sirius Black was missing lots of memories. Azkaban did that to a guy. And the problem was that he often missed the happiest ones. But the nice thing was that lots of memories weren't necessarily good. Lots of memories were just okay - like the time that Lily had admitted that she wanted very dearly to get a cat, but wasn't allowed, because Petunia was allergic.

That wasn't really a happy memory - it had just enough bitterness, tinged with annoyance at his own mother's refusal to get any pets - animals are for lesser wizards, Sirius - that he could recall it.

And thus, he was here. He opened the door to the master bedroom. Ugh, all this floral print. And they had a real problem with crochet covering. It also smelled like bleach, somehow, in the bedroom. Which was… well, that was the weirdest thing so far. The thing that he found the most uncomfortable. What was Petunia bleaching in here?

Well, she'd have real reason to use bleach, from now on. He stood on the bed, heedlessly tracking mud onto the pink comforter, and hung the small choker from the ceiling fan. The thin collar was originally a gift to Harry, but he figured she wouldn't have half as good a use for it as this. Besides, this was as much a present to her as it was to him.

Sirius waved his wand a time or two, and tricked the collar into thinking it was around a neck.

He grinned, to himself, and cast a strong Muggle-Repelling charm on the choker. They wouldn't find it in a million years, and the cats would love it.

Even as he dashed from the house, he passed a cat, sitting at the door. He opened it, wider, to let the cat in.