Albus was incensed. Of all the foolish, outrageous things that Sirius could have done, turning up for Christmas Dinner trumped them all. And this was mere hours after Fudge had woken him in panic, to tell him of Sirius almost getting caught in London. Albus had been more than a little worried at that point, had barely managed to keep the appearance of calm until he had heard all the pertinent details. The worry had lasted until Fudge, finally settling down after noticing how many of Albus' questions he was unable to answer, had switched topics to complain about Hogwarts' wards reacting 'strangely' to him.
It had not taken Albus long to guess what must have happened. He had felt a pang of annoyance at Sirius for employing such a boyish prank, for taking the unnecessary risk, but at least he had known then where Sirius was – and that he was safe for the time being.
Albus wished he had gone to the Gryffindor tower first thing in the morning, but Fudge had been demanding his attention – asking for help to find a way to break the news of the blunder of the failed operation to capture Sirius to the Wizengamot and later to the general public that did not make him look too foolish.
While sitting in the minister's office and hearing the details of that operation again, Albus had guessed what he had not the night before – that Harry had been in London as well, and had in fact rescued Sirius at great risk to himself. The confirmation had come after dinner, when Harry and Hermione had told Minerva of the 'anonymous' broom delivery – after sitting through the dinner with the disguised Sirius by their feet.
Wordlessly, Albus took Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius to his office, neither turning around nor slowing down on the way, and only once he had seated himself behind his desk, did his gaze turn to them again. He held up his hand again before any of them could speak, addressing the portraits first, demanding their silence on what they were about to witness.
"Now, I believe that besides the three of you, I'm also hosting Padfoot under Harry's invisibility cloak in my office, is that not so?"
Albus' unexpectedly calm question was met with three pairs of widening eyes. Hesitantly, Harry extended his hand to his side, pulling up the invisibility cloak. The dog really did have an uncanny resemblance to a grim. Sirius transformed back into a human a moment later, also looking surprised.
Albus regarded the young man for a lengthy moment, before conjuring a couple extra armchairs. Four seats were needed – not usually accounted for in his office. Hermione sat between the boys, with Sirius taking the seat on Harry's other side. It was inevitable that Albus would be reminded of the Marauders, whom he had hosted far too many times during their years at Hogwarts. Minerva had told him in the summer that Sirius looked 'almost unchanged – merely older' and Albus nearly agreed. Sirius was almost unrecognisable as the Azkaban inmate depicted in the newspapers, a portrait that Fudge had yet to update. But his shadowed eyes were no longer that of the young man Albus had known over a decade ago.
"I learned about your nicknames from Severus' memories, in case you were wondering," he finally spoke. "It took some effort to get him to hand them over – effort that I went to in order to see just how close he might be to recalling something incriminating about you, Sirius. I was considering my options in case I needed to – interfere." His voice progressively lost the unnatural calm.
Harry immediately asked if Snape had thus guessed Sirius' animagus form, prompting Albus to explain a bit about how pensieves worked – and that for the moment Snape did not consciously remember the Marauders' nicknames. He went on to explain that he intended to keep hold of the memories for as long as he could, to cover for Sirius yet again.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He had looked so obviously worried, Albus no longer wondered why he had apparently taken such a risk to get his godfather away from the aurors the night before. His friends also showed a great deal of concern for the hunted Marauder. Sirius clearly had grown close to the children in the time he had been on the run. Harry and his friends looked grateful at Albus for covering their tracks, as well as chastened, at the repeated warnings that Sirius' situation was precarious.
Sirius was a different matter. "Thank you, Albus. I do appreciate that. Unexpected risks do crop up, don't they? It's impossible to predict everything. Sometimes we just have to react to things as they happen. As did last night, when the aurors raided my house. I believe Fudge already told you some of it—"
"An unexpected risk, indeed. Impossible to predict how taking your godson to London might have any risks associated to it," Albus said coldly.
"Well, so what if we spent Christmas with him—" Harry broke off, noticing the headmaster's surprise.
"All three of you—?" Albus scanned the three students, all looking varying degrees of guilty. That, he had to admit, he had not guessed.
Harry guiltily glanced at his friends, to be reassured by their supportive looks.
"W-well, it was, er, useful that I was there," came Hermione's sheepish voice. "We used my time-turner."
Albus shook his head. "And here I thought it bad enough that Harry brought back one piece of incriminating evidence – in the form of that broom—"
Sirius turned a little sideways to look at his young companions. "Hardly incriminating evidence," he said unrepentantly. "There's no way the aurors will think that they were outsmarted by three Hogwarts students." There was obvious pride in his voice, which resisted Albus' quelling look. Sirius persevered, asking what the aurors and Fudge had reported about the night's events.
Albus gave a short summary of both what Fudge had told him – and on request, also of how he had guessed Sirius' presence. He admitted that the aurors were far from even considering the involvement of Hogwarts students.
In fact, the invisibility cloak, coupled with the speed of the rescue, had worked very well. At first, the aurors had thought Harry's broom had been summoned, only noticing the outline of a person sitting on it – the invisible middle section of the broom and the soles of Harry's shoes – after a couple failed counters to the summoning charm. That had been all they had had time to try, before Harry had managed to get to safety. Fudge's companions had blustered, unwilling to admit that they had left themselves vulnerable by leaving the front entrance of 12 Grimmauld Place unguarded, so they had been eager to assure Albus that whoever was helping Sirius must be very crafty, as well as an outstanding flier – possibly a professional quidditch player.
Harry could not help but enjoy the inadvertent praise, laughing along with Ron and Sirius, with even Hermione shaking her head fondly.
"I'm afraid that is only half the story," Albus cut across them coldly. "The aurors did learn a few details about your, ah, mysterious helper after all, Sirius. You remember Alastor, I presume?" At Sirius' cautious nod, he went on, "You may not have heard of this, as you were already in custody by then, but he lost an eye when capturing your cousin, Bellatrix, and a few of her companions. He's since been using a magical prosthetic, which has led to the nickname Mad-Eye."
"He was there, then?" Sirius asked.
Albus noted with some satisfaction that Sirius had grown still and seemed to be holding his breath.
Harry kept a close eye on his godfather's reaction, his own tension rising in response. "I think I might've seen him," he said. "There was someone with two different eyes, one of them electric blue – and it kept rotating—"
"It tends to do that when Alastor's scanning his surroundings with it," said Albus.
"What, er, what exactly did he see?" Sirius finally asked, and for the first time that day, he failed to sound unconcerned, Albus noted with grim satisfaction.
"That, I'm afraid, is a tricky question." Some of the obvious anger drained out of him, to be replaced by weariness. "Alastor has always been tight-lipped about how his magical eye works, how much it actually shows him. What I do know is that it's always been more than what he claims it does. However, Dawlish reported that Alastor repeated his usual modest claim to him last night: that his magical eye merely casts a few obvious detection spells, such as the human presence revealing spell, and that all he had been able to detect was that there had been a human on the broom, concealed under an invisibility cloak."
The children began to look relieved, but grew uncertain quickly as they noted the grim expressions on the two adults' faces.
"Paranoid git," muttered Sirius. His words were incongruous with the ghost of a fond smile that faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Never liked to reveal his leads until he was ready to strike. How much do you suspect he might've discovered?"
Albus had given the matter some thought himself. It had struck him as odd that Alastor had not sought him out, had not discussed the matter with him. If he suspected one of Albus' charges, one of his students, had been involved, then surely he would have talked to his old friend—
"I really can't say. All I know is that gossip has it that he can essentially see through disguises – as if the disguises were not there."
Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, beginning to say something about impressionable characters, but he did look a bit disturbed.
Albus nodded in satisfaction. "There is so much evidence that you left behind. Even if you prove to be quite uncommonly lucky and no one suspects your young helpers right away, there are more and more loose ends being left behind. I'm afraid, the longer this sort of behaviour continues, the more likely it is that someone will make the connection. Yet, you continue to be quite unaccountably reckless. After narrowly escaping the aurors in London, you not only risked getting into Hogwarts but even joined us for Christmas Dinner—"
Instead of looking chastened, Sirius set his jaw. Meanwhile, the children were only too eager to defend him, Hermione bringing up his loss of home and Ron arguing that Sirius had needed to eat. Harry's surprised look shifted between his friend and his godfather.
"What, you kept feeding him as well?" he exclaimed, addressing Ron.
Albus exhaled an angry sigh at Sirius' silly grin, unrepentant as even his godson looked unimpressed at his recklessness. Harry's long-suffering glance landed on Albus unexpectedly, and they shared a moment of commiseration. The boy could hardly hope to deal with his godfather's recklessness. Even Albus himself had regularly failed to do so, had failed to keep Sirius' more outrageous tendencies in check. Had it been such a surprise then that Albus had believed he had betrayed them—
"I…" Sirius began before more admonishments could follow. His grin faded as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm guessing we can't afford to hold a trial for me, then? Can't afford to be distracted away from whatever it is Pettigrew's up to, I mean." The words were hesitant, the real question – what Albus knew of Pettigrew's actions – merely implied.
Albus suppressed a sigh. He had almost forgotten this aspect of the man facing him with undaunted courage. Sirius' willingness to put himself after the cause had somehow always been unnerving. There was always an undercurrent of recklessness to it, but it was always interspersed with unexpected insight, suggesting an act of sacrifice rather than mere foolishness.
Harry, hearing that question, sat up straighter, fight coming into his eyes. Clearly, the option of a trial was new to him. Sirius, for his part, would not look at his godson, yet from his suppressed grimace, Albus could glean a great deal.
In a rather short stretch of time – less than a year and a half – Harry had grown surprisingly close to his godfather. Even his friends had become attached to him. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, communicating a great deal, it seemed, with a few glances. All three friends looked ready to start arguing.
Albus spoke first. "It would certainly distract the authorities away from Pettigrew – and whatever it is he is up to."
Sirius' lip twitched. "Involving that mystery object of yours, and whatever interest Pettigrew – and Malfoy – have in it."
Albus knew – without a doubt he knew – that Sirius was to be trusted. He was not sure what had led him to the realisation. It was not a mere return to his opinion before the Potters' deaths, either. It was a new understanding of the person, whom he had thought to know so well only to be proven wrong not once, but twice. And yet, Albus no longer doubted Sirius.
That still left the question how much information it was best to share with him.
"It is a tracking device that became my final shared project with my old mentor, Flamel." Albus steepled his fingers under his chin. "I suppose Harry would have told you of the happenings in his first year at Hogwarts. Specifically, about his defence teacher. Quirrel survived being possessed and then carelessly disposed of by Voldemort, but not without damage – and not without it leaving behind a mark. That – mark – is in some sense like a wound, like a scar that will not heal…" Albus hesitated, still debating how much to explain. His guilt for wanting to postpone Sirius' trial was urging him to share more information than he felt was prudent.
Sirius shifted impatiently. "How exactly would you make use of that?"
Albus listened, taken aback, as Sirius went on to outline the main technical difficulties that he and Flamel had needed to overcome. Sirius seemed to have grasped the problems of the matter at astonishing speed.
For a moment, the thought occurred to him that it almost seemed like Sirius had already given the matter some thought, meaning that he had somehow gained knowledge of the matter from a source other than Albus – the likeliest source being Pettigrew—
Albus shook the the though off as paranoid, angry at himself. He had made up his mind about Sirius' innocence.
"It was certainly a challenge, but it helped that I was present at the time when Vldemort abandoned Quirrel. I was able to cast a tracking spell on the remains of Voldemort that managed to flee, and to create a loose link to Quirrel." He himself went into some detail, paying respect to Sirius' understanding of the matter, though he was aware of the adolescents' eyes glazing over out of boredom.
"Impressive," Sirius said at the end of the explanation, clearly meaning it. "And so this device really can tell you Voldemort's whereabouts?"
"Merely the distance and – vague – direction between him and Quirrel." Albus shook off the pleasure the praise had brought, once again angry at himself. "Unfortunately, I was unwise enough to share my achievement with the minister, who wanted to have access to it. So – with some difficulty – I made a copy—"
"The one that was stolen from the ministry?" chimed in Hermione.
Albus nodded. "The consensus was that someone with inside knowledge had done it—"
"With Malfoy's help, then," said Ron.
This prompted more detailed questions from Sirius. Albus decided to share much of what he knew from the aurors, including the description of the man who had gone to the Hogsmeade owlery to send the package which contained Pettigrew to the Hogwarts owlery. In exchange, Sirius shared more about his recent escape from the aurors – specifically, his cousin talking to his house elf and passing that information to the aurors. He then went on to suggest that the law enforcement was being influenced by the Malfoys. Albus had to agree grimly. Lucius was organising a very thorough operation indeed.
Harry frowned. "Why, though? If Malfoy wanted to find Voldemort, he could've done so by now. He's had well over a decade." His eyes darted to his godfather again, who nodded back.
Albus had considered the same question himself. "I… suspect Pettigrew might be the instigator. It would not have been an altogether impossible guess for him that Malfoy had been involved with the diary, which might have prompted him to – collaborate."
In fact, he would not be surprised to learn that Pettigrew was somehow blackmailing Malfoy. This was all merely a hypothesis, but it was a not altogether bad guess, thought Albus.
Sirius exchanged a look with his young companions, before nodding. "I did try to track Pettigrew last year and found his traces in the vicinity of Malfoy manor."
Albus felt vindicated that his guess seemed to be the correct one, however he was also struck by the unpleasant realisation that because of the distrust between him and his current companions, this information had not been shared with him for well over a year.
"Why go through the trouble to steal both devices, though?" Harry went on. "Pettigrew risked getting into Hogwarts – twice – to steal it. And – that thing at the hospital, ages ago. Was that an attack on Quirrel?"
Sirius looked across at his godson. "Trying to find Voldemort isn't enough, I guess. They also want to make sure nobody else will be able to follow them."
Albus sighed. "If both the tracking devices are in their hands and Quirrel is – unavailable – making it impossible to create another one, then we'd be none the wiser if Voldemort were to return to Britain."
Harry's frown turned into a scowl. "Why doesn't Voldemort just counter the tracking spell?"
Sirius was quicker to answer, trying to explain the difficulties of casting such a counter considering the state Voldemort was in.
"But aren't we going to assume he'll return if they succeed?" said Hermione. "That's hardly a difficult guess – for those who know what's going on."
"Indeed." Albus spared a quick smile for his listeners, who never failed to impress him with how engaged they were in current events. "At this stage we know – and they know we know – what their plans are. However, knowing the exact time and location of Voldemort's return to Britain would be quite a bit more than merely guessing the gist of their plans – if I may say so myself."
At this, the adolescents sunk back in contemplation, exchanging looks that indicated they were going to discuss the matter as soon as they were among themselves.
Sirius was not done yet, however. "Quirrel was Voldemort's supporter himself, wasn't he? Making him unavailable—" He glanced at Harry and his friends with some hesitancy, before pushing on. "—might work in different ways. I suppose you regularly check up on him. What's the verdict? Is he likely to team up with Pettigrew and Malfoy?" Sirius seemed to be doing his best to avoid the surprised stares that the adolescents had directed his way.
Albus hesitated, once again contemplating how much to share. "I have to point out that it is not common knowledge that Quirrel is in any state to be making decisions. He fell into a coma following his attack on Harry and remained in that state for – quite some time. In fact, to all outward appearances, he still remains in a coma."
There was an indrawn breath from Harry. "Is that why Pettigrew couldn't manage to do whatever he was trying to in St. Mungo's?"
Albus had to admit he was surprised by the leaps of understanding that his listeners were demonstrating. He nodded slowly. "You're exactly right. Quirrel is slowly recovering from a state similar to petrification. He still appears to be in a coma, but has for some time now been able to communicate through a device designed for that purpose. He was the one who alerted the staff of the hospital to the presence of the intruder. However, he has since stubbornly refused to explain whether he did it because he has reconsidered his allegiance to Voldemort – or whether he simply did not realise what was happening and rang the alarm by mistake."
"Or because Pettigrew intended to kill him, rather than kidnap him," Sirius pointed out.
Albus had carefully avoided mentioning that possibility to his young listeners and could not suppress a frown forming on his face.
"Did Pettigrew find out that it was Quirrel who stopped him?" asked Ron before he could respond.
"I don't know," Albus was forced to answer, his frown intensifying.
"It's likely they'll try again," said Hermione. "And if they don't figure out Quirrel's state, might they kill him?"
"Even if they figure that out – if Quirrel doesn't want to go along—" Harry did not finish what he was saying, looking as disturbed at the thought as his friends.
The discussion had derailed far enough, Albus decided. "The security around Quirrel has of course been increased since that incident. I won't tell you that there is no reason to be concerned – hence my reluctance to take attention away from Pettigrew. However, much has been done to thwart his plans—"
"Speaking of, I assume you've found a nice little hiding place for your tracking device?" said Sirius. "Is someone – reliable – helping you look after it—"
It was an intrusive question at best, one Albus had no intention of answering in detail, regardless of his guilt about delaying the trial. Sirius appeared to be unaware of this, however he was once again avoiding Harry's gaze, which held an obvious admonishment. The boy's eyes fleetingly darted to Albus himself, showing the embarrassment that seemed to elude his godfather.
"As I said, all necessary precautions have been taken." This was said in the headmaster's tone, addressing unruly students.
It was mostly successful. His listeners realised that the sharing of information was over and the adolescents had the presence of mind to ask him for shelter for Sirius, who himself insisted all he needed was a safe passage out of Hogwarts.
It only took a moment's contemplation to make up his mind. "I believe I may have a temporary solution," Albus said with a twinkle. "You see, a certain someone recently came to me with a very promising request and I decided to grant it as a Christmas present. I took it as a rather promising sign that he declined to have Christmas dinner with us, in fact—"
Hermione sat forward with an indrawn breath, catching on the quickest. "Do you mean Professor Lupin?"
Sirius was frowning, as if distrustful of something that appeared too good to be true, as Albus explained about Remus requesting the transcripts of his old friend's questioning. He had to go to some lengths, had to bring up some of his earlier conversations with Remus, to convince Sirius that his old friend was likely not too far from believing him innocent.
"Moreover, I happen to have it on good authority that the aurors have finally taken him off their suspects list – at least in connection with you and Pettigrew. Yes, I believe he'll make the ideal host."
Albus did not delay matters after that, asking the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black – who was trying to appear impartial, but was clearly feeling vindicated – to visit Remus' chambers and let him know that he had been requested in the headmaster's office.
Sirius got up to pace as they waited. For the first time that evening, he appeared nervous. For all that Albus did not appreciate his overconfidence, it pained him to see the young man struggle to recover even this minute part of his former life. He offered to explain the situation to Remus first, before confronting him with his former friend's presence. Reluctantly, Sirius transformed back into his animagus form. He really was the very image of a grim, Albus found himself musing.
Harry, Ron and Hermione rearranged their armchairs so that Padfoot could hide behind them and not be seen by someone entering the office through the door. Not long after they had completed that arrangement, there was a knock on the door and Remus entered.
He was taken aback by the presence of his students. "You don't want me to give detention on Christmas Day, Albus, surely?" he asked, sounding mildly concerned. His gaze was on his students, and he was doing his best to look encouraging.
There was a suspicious sound from the corner behind the armchairs.
Albus hid his own chuckle with a little cough. "Not at all. I wished to discuss an entirely different matter with you. May I assume it was the transcripts I gave to you last night that kept you from dinner today and that you've already read them?"
The question did little to reassure Remus. Taken aback, his gaze once again landed on his students. He seemed unsure how much to reveal in front of them. Then his gaze sharpened, focusing on Harry intently. Real worry passed over his features and he tried to say something along the lines of merely having been curious.
Albus grasped the situation quickly. It seemed Remus had been aware of some connection between Harry and Sirius, after all, if his immediate worry was any indication. Best to clear the situation up at once.
He did not get the chance.
One of the armchairs shifted, as Padfoot pulled himself back into his human shape and stepped forward. Remus screamed, stumbling back.
"Sirius!" Harry's exasperated voice could be heard in the background, as well as muttered, "Not again," from Hermione and Ron. It made Albus wonder, but there was no time to ask under what possible circumstances they might have been in a similar situation.
"It was indeed a curious matter, my questioning. And here I am, ready to answer any questions you might have about it," said Sirius, sounding entirely unconcerned.
The effect was convincing, even though Albus had just witnessed his nerves and knew it to be fake. He cut across the ensuing chaos, then, interrupting Remus' incoherent utterances, the giggles interspersed by groans from the boys, and Hermione's valiant attempts to explain the situation, amid several giant eyerolls directed at Sirius.
It did not take long at all. Remus understood the gist of the situation almost at once, although he was glad to hear the explanations, to know without a doubt that Sirius was indeed innocent. He agreed to let Sirius stay at his house at once, even deciding to go along himself to help his friend settle in. It was only once the first euphoria had faded that he had the presence of mind to ask why Sirius suddenly needed a place to stay.
It was curious to see the usually even-tempered Remus take in the knowledge that the friend he had just recovered had almost been captured mere hours ago. Moreover, that three of his students – Harry among them – had been there with him, evading a large-scale ministry operation. He had to sit down for a moment, and when he recovered, he pulled Sirius into a hug.
Having witnessed the happy reunion, it was with a lightened heart that Albus said goodbye to all his guests, sending Remus and Sirius to Wales and Harry, Hermione and Ron to their dorms.
~HP~
Exasperated was a mild word for how Harry was feeling. He was glad that Remus was finally on their side and that his godfather had a roof over his head, but he was annoyed that Remus' presence meant that he could not just mirror-call Sirius right away to admonish him for the things he had said in front of the headmaster.
Harry had to wonder whether Dumbledore had noticed his nerves as Sirius brought up several pieces of information Harry had gained by spying on the headmaster, like the fact that Quirrel could be talked to. Sirius had also asked about anyone assisting with hiding the tracking device, because they had deduced from Harry's overheard conversation between the Dumbledore brothers that Aberforth, the barman of the Hog's Head, might be involved. The headmaster had refused to share that information, however.
"—clearly screamed before she sat down!" Ron's heated voice cut through Harry's musings. "She must've felt that there were thirteen of us at the table, for all that she could only see twelve!"
"That's ridiculous, Ron! She was just being dramatic and superstitious, and she screamed after sitting down, when there were fourteen of us—"
Hermione and Ron were debating whether or not Trelawney could have been aware of Sirius' presence at the dinner table. Harry was on the verge of snapping at them, seeing as they had much more important things to think about, in his opinion. His friends were saved from his admonishments by McGonagall's arrival. She was earlier than she had said she would get there, supper was still some time away, but it seemed she would not entirely trust Harry to keep away from his new Firebolt.
Harry found the whole situation comical enough that it kept him from letting his frustration get to him. Still, it was no easy task, listening to her talk about stripping down his magnificent Firebolt.
Later yet, she took Harry to the staffroom. It was not a place he usually went to. In fact, he and Ron tended to take a wide berth around it, sending Hermione if needed. Harry entered the room with some trepidation. The last time he had been in there had been Lupin's boggart lesson and the only other teacher present – if only briefly – had been Snape. At that moment, it seemed every teacher still at Hogwarts was to be found there – except, thankfully, for Trelawney. Dumbledore was at one end of the long room, going over some accounts with Filch. Sprout, Flitwick and Snape were closer to the fireplace, all engaged separately with reading or writing.
Snape looked up when he heard them approach. For a moment, it looked like he intended to say something, but he turned back to the parchment in front of him with a scowl. Harry had a vague suspicion that Snape had been meaning to say something earlier during dinner as well, but worried as he had been for Sirius, he had not paid much attention.
McGonagall bid Harry to sit in an old armchair while he waited for the floo call. She herself joined Flitwick to pore over a lengthy parchment displaying what looked to be timetables. It was an uncomfortable wait for Harry, spent in silence, trying not to attract any attention.
For all that he had been waiting for it, the fire flaring and turning green still took Harry by surprise. Mrs. Figg's head appeared to be floating in the fire a moment later, exchanging greetings with McGonagall, before wishing Harry a happy Christmas and thanking him for the Bertie Botts' he had sent her. Harry tried to ignore the teachers present – Snape had just loudly repositioned his chair – as he thanked her in turn for organising the surprise for him. She took that as her cue to say goodbye and let her not-so-surprising guest take her place.
"Dudley! Happy Christmas!" Harry was aware of grinning from ear to ear, having jumped to his feet to step up to the edge of the fireplace.
"Happy Christmas!" Dudley's floating head was grinning as well.
Harry began to chat with his cousin, slowly getting over the awkwardness of their audience. They exchanged regular bits of news, much of which they already knew from each other's letters. Then Dudley thanked Harry for his present – a history book, detailing the magical community's interactions with the muggle world, which Hermione had deemed reasonably balanced. Harry was about to do likewise, but Dudley cut across him.
"About that – I did write about a second present, right?" At Harry's nod, an envelope appeared in the flames, together with Dudley's hand holding it. "It's a bit of a story, how I got it. And – well, the reason I didn't just send it by owl – it's because of my mum—" He looked around, taking in the teachers in the room.
Harry nodded approvingly. It would not do for them to admit to be redacting their letters because they knew they were being spied on.
"Mum's insisting I show her every letter you send me. Even those sent to Smeltings. She wanted me to bring them all along so she could make sure you're not being a horrible influence." He dramatically rolled his eyes.
Harry was glad for the first time that his letters had all been heavily edited. "What's her verdict, then?" he could not help but ask.
"She vindictively thinks you miss the muggle world, what with you mentioning muggle TV shows all the time." Dudley snorted.
Harry smirked, once again glad he had come up with that particular code.
"Anyway." Dudley's expression grew uncertain all of a sudden. "It's been odd, her knowing. With Dad, it's a simple case of him trying to get me to snap out of the 'brainwashing'—"
Harry had to roll his eyes there.
"—but Mum—" Dudley bit his lip. "Listen, Harry. She's… she's been a little bit… strange – about the whole thing. It's like, she keeps waiting for me to – I don't know – tell her that it was all a giant hoax and that I'm still the old Dudley. But… she's also been telling me a bit – about growing up with your mum – Aunt Lily—" He said it experimentally, as if to try out the term.
His mother's name spoken by Dudley sounded rather odd to Harry. There was more chair scraping in the background, unpleasantly reminding him that he did not have privacy. "What did she say?" He was aware that his voice was not as even as he would have liked, considering his audience.
Dudley grimaced. "Most of what she says just proves that she's holding a grudge. Er – but I kept asking about seeing photographs of them – of her and her parents and her sister – whenever she'd bring up her childhood. I never thought about it, but we never did learn much about our grandparents, did we? For me, it was always Dad's parents we talked about – Anyway, she couldn't keep saying no, what with how often she mentioned them, so she let me go through some stuff in the attic—"
Harry, who was beginning to have an inkling what Dudley's present might be, felt his heart speed up. Self-consciously, he glanced around the room, but none of the teachers seemed to be paying attention. Snape had gone so far as to completely turn away.
"You, er, found something, then?" Harry asked quietly.
Dudley's floating head tilted forward and back in a nod. "There were a bunch of photographs, and Mum even told me a bit of background about some of them. She let me bring down a couple of the photo albums, even, so I'll be able to show you when you get back. And…" There was a hesitation, coupled with an odd glint in Dudley's eyes. "There was one that I thought you should have, so I, er, took it—"
Harry frowned. "Won't she miss it?"
"I don't think so. I don't think she'll want to go back to see it. So, here it is." He passed the envelope through the flame to Harry. "It's not exactly the sort that'll fit in your photo album, but I think you'll like it anyway."
Harry frowned again at the insistent, meaningful look on Dudley's face when saying that. Obviously, it would be a muggle photograph – not the magical, moving variety – but in the current company that was hardly something that could not simply be said. Harry carefully took the envelope and, curious, attempted to open it.
"No, better do that later," Dudley interrupted right away.
Intrigued, Harry put the envelope in his pocket, and produced from it an envelope of his own, containing several pages of thin muggle paper, written tightly. "This letter is best read in privacy as well," he said with his own meaningful look at his cousin, as he passed it through the flame.
He had spent the time after talking with the headmaster and until McGonagall's arrival to write down in as much detail as he could the real happenings of the past months, including the information recently gleaned from Dumbledore. Dudley nodded slowly. His intrigued, knowing look let Harry know his cousin had understood what he had been given, and would make sure not to let anyone see the letter's contents. It was still a risk, just writing that much incriminating information in one place, but not enough not to take advantage of the great opportunity.
Soon after that, Harry said his goodbyes. It would not do to take up too much of Mrs Figg's time – as well as his teachers'. He thanked both his neighbour and Professor MgGonagall yet again for the surprise before heading back to his dorms.
His curiosity got the better of him on the way and he opened the envelope. It was an old photograph, the colour faded, the shapes indistinct. It showed a Christmas scene, with a decorated tree in the background and a table laden with festive dishes. His mother was there, of course, and appeared to be around Harry's age, sitting in front of a plate laden with food. Aunt Petunia sat not far from her, recognisable right away from her upturned nose. Their mother stood behind them, her arms draped around both girls, who otherwise did not seem to seek each other's closeness. Their father was not visible, having probably been the one taking the photograph.
Harry then noticed another child, a boy, barely visible at the edge of the photograph, sitting at the far end of the table. Faded as the photograph was, it was still easy to tell that the boy was neither well groomed nor well dressed, and sneering besides. He was a far cry from the other people in the photograph. He also looked oddly familiar.
It was while Harry was returning the photograph in the envelope that he realised there was a post-it note stuck to its back. It held Dudley's writing. There was an old inscription on the back of the photograph, which read,
25 December, 1973.
It was Dudley's note, however, which caused Harry to halt in the middle of the empty corridor, staring at his cousin's messy scrawl. It read,
Did you recognise the guest in the corner? It's your potions teacher, Severus Snape, of all people! He used to be the poor neighbour's kid. That's all I got out of my mum, though. She just spouted vitriol about 'that awful boy' when I asked. But from what she was saying I could guess that he was the one who told your mum – and mine – about magic, years before they went to Hogwarts! He used to be sort of friends with your mum for a bit, even, I think.
He looked just like a bat back then, too, didn't he?
Harry, turning the photograph over to take another look, had to agree that he did, indeed.