Disclaimed
Author's note: Thank you reviewers! Also, people have commented on how Harry is constantly getting injured. To address this I say, if you plan on having zany adventures you better have good medical insurance. Also Props to the brothers Grimm and their fairy tales, and whoever owns the copyright on them.
The Basement
By Marz
Chapter 11: Background Checks
I don't have a habit of provoking teachers for attention or anything like that, but it seems like I've gained the power to infuriate any and all adults who come within ten feet of me.
"Harry, Please tell me who gave this to you," Professor Lupin asked, tapping the portfolio.
I shrugged. I was supposed to be getting tutoring on Redcaps and Boggarts from him, not the third degree. I could've told him I got it from Kingsley Shacklebolt, after much immature sulking. But I wanted to keep most of those details to myself.
Kingsley had interviewed me that morning, about my most recent run in with Black. As usual I was in the hospital wing, gorging on chocolate and hot cocoa, to counteract my most recent run-in with a dementor. Shacklebolt came in and asked me the standard questions. "Did Black look different? What did he say to you and what did you say to him?" All of that. And of course my answers were cow plop, and he knew it. For a few seconds I thought he was going to let me get away with it, but then Shacklebolt got in my face. Well not in my face exactly, but definitely too close to conveniently avoid eye contact.
"Did Black threaten you? Is that why you're lying?" Shacklebolt asked.
"No." I said, lifting the mug of cocoa and trying to look honest.
"I can't tell you what I don't know." I said, spilling hot liquid all over my shirt.
"We can't protect you if you don't help us. Do you understand that your life is in danger?"
"Yeah, I noticed. Twice in three days dementors have attacked me. If you guys get much more protection for me I won't make it to Christmas exams."
"This is not a joke. Harry, you don't know what Black is capable of."
"So why don't you tell me? Why doesn't anybody tell me?"
Shacklebolt stared at me for a long moment, and then took a portfolio from a pocket in his robes. I guess it had some kind of spell on it, as it was too large to fit in there otherwise. He handed it to me.
"Black may have told you something that's convinced you of his innocence, but he betrayed a lot of good people to he-who-must-not-be-named. I'd appreciate your not mentioning you got this information from me. Read it, and if you…remember…something about Black, that you think I need to know, owl me."
And so I came into possession of Black's official Ministry file.
I'll be the first to admit that paging through the file under my desk in my first Defense Against the Dark Arts class was less then clever. The class was very interesting, but I couldn't keep from taking out of my book bag. I almost wished the Auror hadn't given the portfolio to me, right before classes anyway. Professor Lupin turned to write something on the board, and I took the opportunity to lift up the edge of the portfolio and peek inside. There was a picture of Black clipped on top of a huge pile of parchment.
"Please bring that up here, Harry."
As I looked up I realized Professor Lupin as well as the entire class was watching me. I looked through my bag trying to find another object, one that I wouldn't mind being confiscated.
"The folder Harry, bring that up here." The professor clarified.
Reluctantly I brought it to him. He opened the portfolio and promptly dropped it on the floor. A picture of Black sprang loose and fluttered across the room. I caught it right before it landed on Parvati Patil's desk. She saw it and gasped dramatically. I brought the picture back to Lupin who stuffed it in the portfolio, slammed it shut, and then stuffed it into his desk drawer.
"You may pick this up after class this evening," he said, then returned his attention to the other students. "I suppose that's as good a place to stop as any. If you will all please put your books away and take out your wands, we will spend the rest of the period on a short field trip."
The field trip was exciting. The professor waded out into the lake, caught a pair of grindylows, (scaly, monkey-like, water demons) and let us practice escaping from them. Dean Thomas volunteered to tackle one of the creatures wand-less, and earned Gryffindor ten points. I forgot I was mad at Lupin, until now. Where was I?
"Harry, where did you get this?"
"One of the Aurors. He only loaned it to me. He'll need it back."
Lupin gave me a long appraising look. ( I was getting violently sick of long looks by this time.) Then he sighed.
"I'll return it to you at the end of the lesson." He shuffled the papers around on his desk. I guess he was gathering his thoughts. He must have had an entire dumpster full of thoughts, because it took about five minutes for him to finally ask, "You read the chapters I assigned?"
"Yes sir." There's plenty of time for reading in psychological quarantine.
"Alright then. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get another Redcap, but a boggart turned up in Mr. Filch's broom closet, so you can have a go at that, at the end of the lesson. Any questions before we start?"
I said no. I took a written quiz on Redcaps. I think I did all right. Lupin gave me an outline for all the material I would have to learn before Christmas exams. That took up most of the lesson. With twenty minutes left, Professor Lupin went to his office and returned levitating a battered old trunk. It kicked and rattled as he set it down on his desk.
"Do you remember the major weakness of a boggart, Harry?"
"They're shape shifters, who turn into the thing that will frighten you the most, but they don't do well against groups."
"Exactly. We won't have quite the advantage a classroom full of students would, but I think we can handle it."
"You have to picture the thing that frightens you the most, and think of how you could make that thing appear funny. When the boggart appears, point your wand at it, with the humorous image in your head and shout 'Riddikulus!' The boggart should become very silly looking, and your resulting laughter will banish it. Any questions?"
"No, Sir." I struggled to think of the thing that would scare me the most. I was very much not fond of small, door-less rooms, but I didn't think the boggart was capable of moving walls around.
"On three then," Professor Lupin said. "One…two…three!"
The trunk burst open.
At first I couldn't figure out what the boggart had become, it just didn't seem to be anywhere, and then I looked toward the door to find it gone, and the walls closing in. I wasn't sure what to point my wand at. Desks were tipping over, pushed into the center of the room by the constricting stone, and making a metallic grating sound that hurt my teeth. The ceiling sunk towards me as well.
This really wasn't funny.
I didn't know what to point my wand at, but if the boggart was controlling the entire room it shouldn't be too hard to miss. But how could you make a slow crushing death funny? I started to sweat. I could put circus wallpaper on them, but no, the last thing I wanted to see was not freakish grinning clowns. The ceiling touched the top of my head, and I knelt. I swung my wand.
"Riddikulus!"
I guess some part of my brain, that I didn't know about, was working. The walls turned a dark brown color and developed a strange spongy texture. The whole place smelled like ginger. I wasn't sure what I had done, until two small German children pushed past me. They scooped out chunks of the wall with their bare hands and began to stuff their faces.
I find my own laugh fairly embarrassing. I used to seriously consider not giving in to any sort of humor at all until my voice had gone down a few octaves, but despite being way too high and giggly, it was still effective. Hansel, Grethel and the ginger bread walls vanished with a pop.
In a blink, the walls were back to normal. The desks looked as if they had never been moved. I whirled around, looking for it, and tripping over my own feet. As I turned I came face to face with Sirius Black. That threw me. Black was definitely scary at times, but he hadn't made it into my top ten list. Black's hand darted out, catching the front of my robe and lifting me off of my feet with out effort. Then I noticed he wasn't looking at me.
"Him too, Remus. All of them," Black said. He was speaking in a clear, strong voice and smiling with even white teeth. His face wasn't a skull like mask and didn't squint as if any light at all was blinding. This must be the Sirius Black Professor Lupin remembered.
"What are you going to do when I break his neck Remus?" Boggart Black asked, giving me a tooth-rattling shake. "Going to cry again? Going to run away and…"
"Riddikulus." Lupin said.
There was a pop and Sirius Black turned into a tiny jet-black puppy dog, with unnerving blue eyes. Lupin choked out a very forced laugh.
What next? I wondered.
As if answering the puppy dog exploded in a cloud of shadows. It condensed a moment later into a towering cloaked figure. Happiness went out of the world, and white fog poured in.
"Stand aside."
"Me instead…"
"Avada Kedavra!"
There was a flash of bright green light and someone slapped me.
"Harry! Harry! Harry! Harry!" The annoying chant rattled around in my brain. I was lying on the floor.
"What? What? What?" I said. I tried to sit up, eyes still cloudy, and managed to bash heads with Professor Lupin. He pulled me to my feet, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.
"Are you all right?" Lupin asked.
"Yeah. When do we learn to get rid of those things?"
"The Riddikulus charm, Harry. Are you certain you feel alright?" Lupin walked around his desk and began rummaging through the drawers.
"I'm fine. I meant when do we learn to get rid of Dementors? I couldn't find anything in the textbook about them." My teeth were chattering, but I was much less shaky than the last time I'd run into one of those things.
"Generally they aren't covered until seventh year. The charm to banish them is terribly complicated."
"Oh."
Lupin closed the desk drawer and handed me a chocolate bar.
"I've got a feeling I'm going to need to know that charm a bit before then," I said.
Lupin looked thoughtful, but he usually does. "I can recommend some books," he said, "but I think you should focus on the curriculum until Christmas vacation at least."
I nodded. He wrote up a list and handed it over to me, as well as the next week's homework. Then he picked up the portfolio.
"Harry, what did you intend to do with this information?" Lupin asked.
"I wanted to know what was going on. Everyone seems to know all about Black and they won't tell me, but I've got as much right to know as anyone, don't I? I'm the one who was kidnapped. What, do they think I'm too stupid to handle it? That my poor tiny little brain will explode if I see his arrest record? I've fought a basilisk and they think I can't handle words! Do I have a sign on my back that says 'please confuse me' or…" I cut my self off mid-rant.
Lupin nodded as I spoke, and he might have been trying not to laugh but I wasn't sure. He held the portfolio out to me, but he held onto his end as I tried to take it.
"Before you go running off, I want you to promise me something. No matter what you find, or you think you find out about Black, please promise me you will not try to hunt him down."
"I promise I won't go hunting for him."
He let go of the portfolio. I turned and left with out another word.
That isn't much of a promise, I thought as I jogged up to Gryffindor tower. If Black had done something terrible I wouldn't have to go looking for him. He would come to me.
Hermione, Ron, and I sat on the floor of the common room. Percy Weasley, (Ron's older brother and Head Boy at the school) kept trying to send us to bed, but since there wasn't an actual rule saying we couldn't stay up all night studying, there was really nothing he could do. As soon as Percy gave up, I took out the portfolio and we divided it. Hermione took the legal documents, I read the newspaper clippings, and Ron looked at the pictures.
I read a lot about how Black had gone insane after the defeat of Voldemort. I can see the going insane part, but I didn't think Black would make a very good minion of the Dark Lord. He apologizes too much. The articles said Black had murdered Pettigrew and twelve muggles who were standing too close. The piece of Pettigrew they found was his finger. That in itself seemed suspect to me. Most police wouldn't give you up for dead if they found just your finger. With muggles I think they need to find fifty one percent of the corpse, or maybe that was for bounty hunters? Anyway the information I found didn't rule out Black's story. It said they suspected he was passing information to you-know-who, but it didn't say what information. It was a lot of writing with very little content.
"Oh my!" Hermione declared. She's the only person under the age of forty I've ever heard use that phrase.
"What is it?" asked Ron.
"Harry, you're mentioned in Black's will."
"What? Where?"
"You're one of the beneficiaries if he dies, so are your parents, and Professor Lupin is mentioned as well, and a man named Peter Pettigrew."
"Huh? Let me see!"
The parchment was placed in my hands. I read it quickly, the only part I understood was the part Black had written himself.
To my friend Peter Pettigrew I bequeath my dictionary, so he may understand the word bequeath. I also leave him all my defense spell books, charms, and potions. Watch out for yourself,f Peter. To my friend Remus Lupin I leave all my other books and the Black family home. Defile it in the manner you see fit. I recommend torching it for the insurance money. To Lily and James Potter I leave everything in the Black family vault, and any other money I've got lying about. Take care of each other. To my godson Harry Potter, I leave my flying motorcycle, so that he may frighten his mother, and all my copies of Night Ladies Magazine, so that I might be a continuing bad influence from beyond the grave. I leave all else to Albus Dumbledore, so that he may continue the fight.
The rest of the document was written in lawyer-ese.
"I can't believe this." I said. I had a godfather, someone who promised to take me in if my parents died.
"What?" Ron asked, taking the paper from me, and reading it. He goggled a second later.
"I can't believe this!" Ron said, and handed Hermione the paper.
"I know," Hermione said. "Harry, what are you going to do about it?"
"Yeah," Ron said. "I don't think your Aunt and Uncle would let you keep a flying motorcycle."