The Basement Chapter 26: Reformulation, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimed

Author's Note: The end is near!

The Basement

By Marz

Chapter 26: Reformulation

The seat squeaked. Every time I moved, to stretch or even breathe, the seat squeaked. I admit my reaction could be viewed as excessive and possibly extreme if you want to get specific with your adjectives, but everyone has been there at one point. All I wanted was to sit and not think in peace. I'd tuned out the clatter of the wheels on the tracks, and the rattling of the cars. I convinced Hermione to stop picking at me and I convinced Ron to stop trying to cheer me up, and I'd pushed Neville Longbottom out of the compartment entirely, and it just kept going.

Squeak!

SQUEAK!

SQUEAK!

When Ron and Hermione's shouting finally sunk in, I noticed my fists were clenched around stuffing and bent up springs. Bits of lint and upholstery drifted though the air like seasonally displaced snow.

"Sorry," I said.

I didn't mean it though. Sorry doesn't mean anything anyway. Dumbledore and Lupin had been apologizing to me none stop for two days straight, but that didn't stop the situation from sucking. Thinking about it made me want tear more padding off the seat.

"Harry, I am sorry. That won't be possible."

Dumbledore said it with complete sincerity, but I didn't believe him. I'd used up my last idea, my last hope, and he just threw that stupid word at me. Any of my ideas could have worked.

I could have stayed at the school for the summer and transformed in Professor Lupin's office like I usually do. Even if Lupin was going off to hunt escaped Death Eaters for the entire summer, I could supervise myself. I told him I'd pay for room and board, I'd do extra chores. I'd help Snape make potions to earn my keep.

He said no, it was too dangerous.

I could have stayed at Grimmauld Place by myself. Snape could bring me the Wolf's-bane potions and I could have transformed in the bathroom. If the Ministry couldn't find me there, I don't think a bunch of Voldemort's lackeys would have any luck.

He said no, it was too dangerous.

I could have gone with Lupin to help hunt the Death Eaters down. I'm very good at defense. I offered to show Dumbledore the Patronus I could conjure. If he though the Death Eaters were after me, I could be the bait.

He applied a "sorry".

I sat slumped in the chair, glaring at the weird silver contraptions on the Headmaster's desk, refusing to make eye contact with him. I knew the last one was a little far fetched, but the first two I could have pulled off.

"You will be safe at your aunt and uncle's house," Dumbledore said. "I know it is unpleasant…"

"And how would you know? Peeked in the window before you left me on their doorstep I suppose?"

I could feel him staring at me, trying to make me look at him, but I wouldn't.

"I will personally explain the situation to them. I'm certain they will be reasonable…"

"Even you can't make that sound true."

He was about to speak, when his attention was drawn to a knock at the door. "Come in, Severus," he called softly.

I heard Snape come in, but I didn't bother to look at him either.

"Harry, if you would excuse us?" the headmaster asked.

I left. I managed not to look at Dumbledore as I went, but Snape was unavoidable, as he was rudely blocking the door way. I knew if I said something he'd take a few hundred points away from Gryffindor, and since the end-of-the-year feast was only an hour off, I wasn't going to risk it. I wasn't going to back down either. It was his fault and he should move. He should be the one having a miserable summer. He's the one who should apologize. He's the only one who should apologize. I glared into his coal like eyes.

His lip twitched and I thought a sneer, followed by a scathing comment was on the way. But some other expression flashed across his face, too fast for me to categorize. And then his face went completely blank. He stepped out of my way and continued on toward the chairs. I walked out, not bothering to close the door behind me.

As usual Gryffindor won the house cup. Even with the whole house screaming like maniacs I couldn't get in the mood to celebrate. Hermione and Ron began a "cheer up Harry" campaign, which only made things worse, because other students were listening and they started bothering me with questions about what was wrong and soon half the table was talking about what was the matter with me. I left before the food was served.

I didn't go back to the dormitory. Instead I walked out the gates, onto the lawn. The forest was loud with birds and bugs and weirder animals I couldn't name. I headed for the edge of it. Wandering into the forbidden forest was of course forbidden, but I wasn't going in far.

Even before I was bitten I'd been feeling a little claustrophobic, and when I was upset it was worse. The Dursley's house would be like being stuffed into one of those plastic dog carrying crates they have at the pet store. I could imagine myself stuffed in one of those little boxes. They'd just put me in one of those, then me and my school trunk would go into the cupboard for the rest of the summer.

The forest sounds didn't change as I passed the first trees, so I was fairly certain nothing large and carnivorous was coming my way. When the castle was hidden from view I stopped and found a nice flat rock to sit on. I'd come into the forest to clear my head, but now all I could think about was the coming summer at the Dursleys. I was being over dramatic in Dumbledore's office. I knew they wouldn't try to kill me or anything like that. They might throw me out, but that wouldn't be all that bad really, and it would prove me right.

I was more worried about being separated from the rest of the world for three months as well. If they found Sirius dead, would they tell me? If he was caught again, would I know soon enough to speak in his defense? I was still brooding when the claws sank into my scalp.

I screamed and shook trying to get it loose, and managed to roll off the nice flat rock, onto many smaller, pointier rocks that stuck out of the ground around it. With a hiss it let go and hopped onto the rock, occupying the space I'd just been sitting in. The pooka giggled and winked at me as I stood up and brushed off my robes.

"You're a pest, you know that?" I said.

The pooka giggled. We still hadn't come up with a name for it, an official name at least. Ron and Seamus referred to him as "the little Bastard", and Hermione and most other people called it the Pooka. I just called him "you." He didn't seem to care anyway. I sat down next to it, and it giggled again.

Despite Hagrid's assurances that the Pooka was not a superconductor of bad luck, weird things always happed around it; simple levitation charms turned their targets into flamingos; couch cushions spontaneously burst into flames; cauldron cakes tasted like pickles; things so random you couldn't really call them luck. The pooka was going home with Ron that summer, though if I had to go to the Dursleys I wouldn't exactly mind having him around. If he made Aunt Marge explode I don't think I could get in trouble for it. My brooding was interrupted yet again, this time by the sound of hoof beats.

I saw the silhouette of a centaur coming slowly though the trees. The moon was nothing more then a sliver, blocked out completely by the foliage, but the centaur's white blonde hair was visible, even in the dark of the forest. I recognized him immediately. It is rather hard to forget the person who saved you from a unicorn-blood-drinking-Voldemort-possessed former school teacher.

"Hello Firenze," I called quietly.

"Who is there?" he called back.

I guess my black robes were fairly good camouflage in the lightless forest.

"It's me, Harry Potter."

Firenze came up to the rock I was sitting on, and stared at me hard, as if he suspected I was lying.

"I am…" he struggled for several moments to find a word, "…surprised."

"Why?" I asked.

"I foresaw we would meet again, but not for many months. Why have you come into the forest?"

That's the thing with Centaurs. They're always talking about how the stars and planets are telling them this or that. I might be tempted to say they're as bad as that old fraud Trelawney, but then again she wasn't such a fraud, and thinking about the prophesy was almost as bad as thinking about the coming summer.

"I needed some space," I answered eventually.

"Something is wrong," the centaur stated. "Would you tell me?"

"Blood! The enemy's blood!" declared the pooka, in its high tittering voice, before launching into another round of giggles. I hate when it says what I'm thinking.

"Blood?" asked Firenze. I think he was addressing the pooka, but it seemed disinclined to answer.

"Firenze, you're always predicting stuff," I started off nervously. I'd only spoken to him once before. "You know a lot about astrology I mean, and I was wondering, since you seem to know something about the topic, how accurate are prophesies?"

"A true prophesy is always accurate, but at the same time the accuracy depends upon its interpretation. A spoken Prophesy can be rife with double meaning."

"What about a spoken prophesy that said 'His most faithful shall offer up to him the blood of his enemy and the Dark Lord shall rise again'?"

"That does sound…bad," the centaur said thoughtfully. "There is more to it?"

I told him the rest. As I spoke the pooka echoed the less pleasant words, saying "blood" and "death" just after I did.

"Are you certain the Prophesy was true? In my experience humans have a habit of embellishing what little knowledge they are able to glean from the mists of the future."

"Dumbledore seemed to think it was true."

Firenze turned away from me and looked up at the canopy of the forest, peering through a small gap in the branches. "This is disturbing, but not unexpected. Mars burns brighter every night."

"Burns!" the pooka cried. It leapt off the rock and disappeared into the undergrowth of the forest. Long after it was lost from sight I could hear its high voice.

"Burns!"

Firenze insisted on walking me back to the castle gates. I was about to go through when he put a hand on my shoulder.

"There is some new darkness working here, and I do not know its name," the centaur said.

I looked back at him, and his neon blue eyes seemed to glow in the faint light from the school.

"Maybe it doesn't have one," I said.

I was pulling the mystical talk out the thin air, but Firenze seemed to think I'd said something clever, because he nodded sagely. Without another word, the centaur turned and trotted back into the shadows of the forest.

As I was dragging my trunk onto the train platform, Dumbledore had come up to me, with his final decision. The Dursleys would not be told immediately, as the full moon would not appear for another two and a half weeks. Arrangements would be made for me to transform in the vicinity of Privet Drive. Of course he didn't give me any of the details, just that annoying little teaser. So really, my mood on the train was perfectly reasonable.

I didn't say much the entire ride. I said good bye to Ron and Hermione at the King's Cross platform. I heard Ron muttering something about me having a temper tantrum to Hermione as they crossed the barrier into the muggle part of the station. I was tempted to chuck Hedwig's cage at the back of his head, but as she was still in it, I decided not to.

I waited about forty five minutes before I went through. I didn't want to offend the Weasleys, since they were always so nice to me, but I knew if I was surrounded by the Weasley cheer-up-brigade I'd say something I'd regret. When I crossed over to platform nine, the Weasleys were gone and the Dursleys were waiting.

"Anymore funny business and I'll box your ears, do you understand me boy?" Vernon growled.

"Nice to see you too," I said tonelessly.

"Don't get smart with me! That little kidnapping stunt, half the neighborhood was popping over at odd times, picking through our trash bin and peeking over the fence. They seemed to think we'd buried you in the garden."

Vernon seemed to have forgotten his point for a moment but Aunt Petunia took over smoothly. "Get to the car, and don't you dare do anything to draw attention to yourself!" she hissed.

I was fairly certain their respective shouting and hissing was drawing more attention then me and my trunk, but I didn't start anything over it. We crossed the station, and when we got to the steps I dragged the trunk down by myself. I let Hedwig out at the top, so she could fly home. Being stuck in a stuffy car with three Dursleys for two hours was not a fate I'd wish on anyone. Petunia looked as if she wanted to yell at me to but her back, but Hedwig was a speck in the clouds before Aunt Petunia could fill her lungs properly. As we reached the bottom of the steps I noticed a lot of people were staring at me and I looked down at my feet, and continued to look at them as we marched across the parking lot. I might have spent the rest of the summer looking at my feet, but then Vernon shouted, and everything turned around.

He was sitting on the roof of Uncle Vernon's company car, with his legs folded under him like some kind of meditating holy man. His hands were resting on his knees, and he was twiddling a bit of brown string around the fingers of his right hand.

"Get off of my car this instant you filthy miscreant!" Uncle Vernon shouted, begging to turn a bit purple around the edges.

At first glance I think Uncle Vernon mistook him for some sort of hippie. The long black hair hanging around his face and the rather grungy clothes did give him a somewhat wild appearance. Vernon was about to shout again, but Aunt Petunia grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back, giving little terrified squeaks the entire time. Dudley stood there, obviously confused, but he gets the same expression around street signs and parking meters. Uncle Vernon glared at me, as he tried to shake Petunia off his arm. I could barely keep from laughing. I turned toward the car.

"Hi Sirius! Where've you been?"

"Oh, around, you know. Are you going to introduce me?" he asked lightly.

"Of course," I said cheerfully, feeling as if I'd just lost a ton of weight. "Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley, this is Sirius Black, my godfather."

Uncle Vernon's face went from purple to green, and his mouth dropped open, leaving him with a rather fish like appearance. "You…your…you're…" he sputtered, trapped no doubt between his fear of death and his hatred of men with long hair.

Sirius threw the little piece of sting he was playing with to me and held out his hand to my uncle. He leaned over the edge of the car, and made the thin metal of the roof to creak in protest.

"Nice to meet you," Sirius said.

Uncle Vernon made no attempt to grasp the extended appendage. As my relatives quaked in terror, I looked down at the string Sirius threw to me. It was about five inches long, and as I turned it in my hand, I was a bit surprised by its rubbery texture.

Aunt Petunia's squeaks of terror were increasing in frequency and volume, and I remembered then that there were a lot of wizards in the area, picking up their children as they got off the school train.

"Sirius?" I said, getting his attention. "Perhaps you should get down off the roof, low profile and all that."

"You're right of course," Sirius said, as he hopped lightly to the ground, causing the Dursleys to step back in horrified unison. "That's my problem," he said to Uncle Vernon as if confessing. "I never think before I act. I mean I'll get the urge to do something and…" Sirius slammed his fist into the palm of his opposite hand, with a very loud smacking sound, "…bam! It's done. All that time in prison, you'd think I'd learn my lesson, but really I seem to be in more of a rush to get things over and done with then before. That's one of the reasons I'm so fond of your nephew; he thinks things through, more then I do anyway. He's quite convincing too. For example when I found out his 'Aunt Marge' had referred to my dearly departed friend Lily Potter in a less then pleasant manner, I was going to burn your house to the ground, but then Harry, always the thinker that one, Harry says 'you really shouldn't burn their house down' and I think he was right, don't you?"

Vernon nodded blankly. I thought Sirius was laying on the crazy act a little thick, but then again I was worried it wasn't just an act. It usually wasn't. Before I could work myself into a panic over that, there was a sudden shout on the other side of the parking lot, and I saw Seamus and his mother goggling at us. Sirius didn't seem overly concerned with them though. He turned back to the Dursleys.

"I need a private word with Harry, why don't you have a seat in this lovely car of yours? Don't try to drive off though, or all have to set fire to you!" His voice never lost its cheerful tone as he spoke, but a shadow passed across his face that might have given a dementor reason to tremble. When the Dursleys had climbed into their car, rolled up the windows and locked the doors, Sirius turned back to me.

"Have you been alright?"

"Mostly," I said, looking back to Seamus and his mother, who were rushing up the stairs, back into the station. "Have you told Dumbledore you're back yet?"

He shook his head. "I've only just gotten back into the country. I lost track of them Harry, in Germany. Some of their old supporters came crawling out of under their rocks. I did manage to get Travers and a little bit of Pettigrew."

"A bit of Pettigrew?" I asked.

He nodded and his eyes went to the bit of string in my hand, which I then realized was not string at all. It was a rat's tail. I used to think perhaps I'd like to see Pettigrew chopped up into many tiny pieces for what he'd done to my family and friends, but now that I was actually holding one of those pieces, I felt more then a little nauseous.

"Do you want to keep it?" Sirius asked, as if this bit of decomposing…stuff was invaluable treasure. I shook my head and swallowed hard, handing it back to him.

"So they're heading for Albania you reckon?" I asked. Dumbledore had mentioned that was where Voldemort's disembodied self was rumored to reside.

"Eventually, I should explain things to Dumbledore first."

"Are you going to explain them to me?"

Sirius looked at me for a long second. "I'll write to you when I get the chance. It would take hours to tell you all of it. Things are happening too fast. We've got to stop them before they find a way to bring him back. Speed is our only hope."

"So I guess this means I'm not staying at Grimmauld Place this summer."

"I'd say I'm sorry and mean it, but I don't think that's what you want to hear. Harry, I don't want to leave you with them, but if I'm going to get Pettigrew I can't take you in. You understand?"

I nodded.

"Are you angry with me?"

I nodded again.

There was another shout from the station, and several people, obviously wizards from their robes, came charging out of the station towards us. Sirius put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'll make this up to you somehow, alright?"

I nodded. "Be careful," I said.

Sirius smiled, then very annoyingly put his hand on top of my head and messed up my hair so badly I didn't even see him disapparate. When I finally got my scalp in order, he was gone. I tapped on the window of Uncle Vernon's car, and reluctantly he unlocked the door for me. I shoved my trunk in, and tossed Hedwig's cage into Dudley's lap. Vernon started the engine, and was driving away before I had the door shut all the way. A few wizards ran after the car, but they didn't come close to stopping it. They just waved and shouted, causing Vernon to drive faster. I suppose they didn't want to use magic in such a public place.

The Dursleys sat in tense silence as we drove back to Privet Drive, but I couldn't help but laugh.

There was an echoing giggle from inside my trunk.

(Author's Note: Not quite over yet. An epilogue will be up soon!)