Chapter 6: Dudley Gets His Way
Remus picked himself up off the floor and took a few deep breaths, leaning against the wall. I need to focus. I need to relax.
Easier thought than done.
What is Sirius Black doing in my shower stall?!
Taking a shower, of course, said the obnoxiously literal part of his mind.
He's supposed to be dead! Dead people don't take showers!
Luckily for his sanity, there was an interruption at this point. A burst of fire made him jump as Fawkes arrived in his room, dropped a letter at his feet, and vanished again.
Knowing Dumbledore, this contains instructions on how to handle the unusual situation currently unfolding in my bathroom...
He picked it up and opened it.
Remus,
At some point in the near future, if it has not already happened, I believe that you will have an encounter with an old friend. He is truly who he appears to be, so greet him as such, and please bring him and yourself, at your earliest convenience, to Headquarters. We have an attack to avert.
A.D.
Remus read it over twice, then allowed himself to fall backward onto his bed.
He's for real.
It's really Sirius.
He managed to cheat death somehow.
And he's in my bathroom.
He cocked an ear. The sound of running water had stopped. But in a moment, he'll be out of my bathroom.
And somehow, I think I want to hear this story more than I want a shower.
He got dressed again, finishing just as Sirius came out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair.
"I hope you didn't go dog and shake in there, I'll never get it dry if you did," Remus said half-jokingly.
"No, I stayed human," Sirius said. "How have you been, Moony?"
"Terrible," Remus said flatly. "But enough about me. Spill, Padfoot. Where were you, how did you get back, and what is it going to cost you?"
"Where was I? Well, for most of the time, I was here... sort of. I got back the same way I left, through the veil. And it didn't cost me anything... someone else paid, this time."
Sirius was silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Finally Remus couldn't take it any more. "You know, Padfoot, there are days when you are without a doubt the most annoying little pile of doggy-doo I have ever met. If you don't tell me the whole story, now, I swear that I will bite you without waiting for a full moon!"
"All right, all right, you don't have to yell!" Sirius ran his hands through his hair. "It was Peter, Remus. Peter went through the veil for me. Lord Snake-Face is down one rat."
I can freak out later. "Peter's dead, then?"
"Yes. Probably the best thing he's ever done. He said to tell you he was sorry. Oh, yes, and James and Lily send their best."
On the other hand, now might be good... "You saw them?"
"Saw them, talked with them a little. Twice, actually. And I learned something very interesting." Sirius fixed Remus with a glare. "Seems I was wrong about who slipped me the firewhiskey back in sixth year. The time I got caught by McGonagall. Remember?"
Remus put his head in his hands. Now I know it's Sirius. He comes back from the dead, and the most interesting thing he's learned is who pranked him almost twenty years ago.
Wait a second... "How did you find that out? I never told anyone..."
"You told me," Sirius said with a look of immense satisfaction. "The night I – supposedly – died. You were drunk out of your mind, staggering around in here and talking to yourself – or so you thought. I was here."
"I do remember that. Sort of." Remus closed his eyes and thought back. "I thought I heard your voice, so I talked with you for a while, and then I passed out on the bed... I remember waking up at one point convinced Lily and James were there..."
"They were," Sirius said quietly. "That was the second time I saw them."
Well, this day isn't surreal or anything. I'm just talking to a friend who I thought was dead, and he's just given me the good wishes of two friends who have been dead for fifteen years. Nope, just another normal day in the life of Remus Lupin.
You really have to lay off the sarcasm, Moony. It's not good for you.
Oh, shut up.
"Are you arguing with yourself again?" Sirius asked.
"Yes."
"You should really stop that. It's not good for you."
"Oh, shut up..."
Ah-ha! I always wondered who my irrational side sounded like!
I do not sound like that overgrown mutt!
Oh, yes, you do.
Oh, no, I don't.
Oh, yes, you do, and that's final. I'm busy. "So, tell me more. If you can."
Sirius could and did. Within half an hour, Remus had a good picture of the last eleven days from Sirius' perspective.
"How's Harry?" Sirius asked. "I haven't checked on him for a while, I was really concentrating hard on Peter the last few days. Is he all right?"
"I'm not sure. He's back with the Dursleys – we put the fear of magic into them so I doubt they'll do anything too bad to him – but he's got to be awfully broken up. You meant a lot to him, Padfoot. More than any of us did." Remus said it matter-of-factly, but the truth hurt a bit. Harry likes me well enough, but he loved Sirius. Loves him, now. Only he doesn't know that yet.
"Well, in that case, I'd better get to him as quickly as I can," Sirius said, standing up. "He's not too far from here, I can Apparate right over."
"No, you don't," Remus countered, also standing up. "Orders from Dumbledore. We have to get to Headquarters to plan how to avert this attack you reported."
"Look, Moony, I just came back from the dead and I want to see my godson. Cut me a little slack, ok? You go to Headquarters. Ask Dumbledore what he's talking about, make like I never showed up here, act all surprised when he tells you. Come on, please? Cover for me, just this once?"
Remus hesitated, and Sirius played his trump card. "Harry needs me, you know."
Damn you. Yes, I do know. "All right, Padfoot, you win. I haven't seen you, I don't know anything about you... except that you're the luckiest SOB around..."
"With a mother like mine, you can say that again," Sirius joked. "How did the old hag take it, by the way?"
"Something about 'it's only what he deserves, the filthy traitor,' et cetera, et cetera."
"No surprises there. Well, see you later, Moony. I have a godson to find."
With a casual wave, Sirius Disapparated.
"And, as usual, I get stuck holding the bag," Remus said to thin air. "How am I supposed to lie to Dumbledore?"
He sighed.
Now I really need a shower.
-----
Draco Malfoy was enjoying himself. It was gloriously exciting, his dream come true, to be given the role and responsibility of a full Death Eater. He wished he could have the Dark Mark, to show the world where he really belonged and who he was good enough to be with, but he needed to finish school, and Dumbledore would have him thrown out on his ear if he showed up at school with the Mark on his arm.
Or would he? Maybe he'd try to convert me. Draco snorted. I'll turn to the light when trolls learn to think, not before. Get back to me then, you old Muggle-loving idiot.
Besides, if this goes the way we want it to, I can take the Mark any time I want to. Any time after the day after tomorrow.
To have his first mission be to help the Dark Lord crush Harry Potter... ah, the ecstasy. The Dark Lord had even promised that he, Draco, could have a shot at torturing Potter before the Dark Lord killed him. Potter was finally going to pay for five years of insults, slanders, and humiliations.
I'll teach him to make fun of my father, Draco thought, carefully arranging his hair in front of the mirror. I'll make him say my father is a god, and his was a worm, before I finish with him.
No more than the truth, really. The Potters may be an old family, but what kind of wizard would have married trash like that Mudblood Evans woman? Whereas my bloodlines are the best in Britain. Macmillan thinks he has something to brag about in nine generations of wizarding ancestors? Oh, please. Any self-respecting pure-blood child would know twelve's the magic number. He smiled at his reflection. Pun intended. I just love me.
But something was bothering him. Oh, of course. Wormtail. What was the story with Wormtail? Had he really deserted, or was there something else up? He'd been awfully strange for the four days Draco had been home, even for him. Staring at corners, making funny little noises.
Of course, Crabbe and Goyle aren't much better since we got back. Honestly, you'd think they'd never been hexed before...
It was the wrong trend of thought. His mind flew back to the Hogwarts Express and the horror of being caught in a hailstorm of hexes where there should have been nothing – he hadn't even been able to turn around before he collapsed. Then the indignity of being unable to make any kind of coherent movement, being unable to see or speak, feeling himself being lifted up and shoved into what he knew must be the luggage rack, and hearing bouts of hysterical laughter. The laughter of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors.
They had been laughing at him! Him, a Malfoy, the only heir to the Malfoy line and fortune!
No one laughs at a Malfoy and gets away with it, Draco vowed. No one.
And Potter will pay first of all. And worst.
He'll pay with his life.
At dawn, two days from now, Harry Potter dies.
-----
Sirius Apparated in Arabella Figg's front yard, immediately turned dog, and hid behind the nearest hedge as Arabella opened the front door to see what the noise had been.
I really shouldn't have done that. What if there had been Muggles nearby? Have to be a bit more careful, Padfoot. You're so close, don't blow it now. Better walk from here.
He started scenting, trying to pick up a trace of Harry. But either it had rained here recently, or Harry hadn't been by in a while. There was nothing.
All right. So I start walking. I know she lives pretty close to him. How hard can it be to find Privet Drive?
-----
Fifteen minutes later...
All right. Harder than I thought.
His pads hurt. Staying indoors for nearly a year had made his feet pretty soft, and that transferred into his dog form like everything else did. He wasn't used to going barefoot along pavement, and it showed. I think I'll look into shoes for dogs. Must be a market in that somewhere.
He wished he could ask for directions, but he knew there was a chance someone would recognize him – he was, after all, still a wanted man, in the Muggle as well as the magical worlds. And I have no desire to get myself hauled in by either set of law enforcement. No. Canine I stay.
Just as he thought that, he got his first whiff of a familiar, dearly beloved scent.
Harry! I must be getting closer!
Intent on his target, moving ever faster, Sirius was unaware of the van cruising along the street just behind him...
-----
Harry Potter lay on his bed, eyes closed, trying to clear his mind. He wasn't really expecting much success, but even Occlumency practice beat listening to Dudley whine. His cousin had come up with something new to ask for, something that even Aunt Petunia couldn't instantly find ten reasons that he should be allowed to have.
Dudley wanted a dog.
Not a small dog, either – no, Dudley wanted a large, fierce dog, a dog that he could train to attack on command. He also thought it would be cool if the dog was black, since no one would be able to see it coming at night. So, of course, every time Dudley started asking again, Harry was reminded of Sirius, and he had to get out of the room fast before the Dursleys could see him cry.
Dudley didn't know why Harry ran out of the room every time he mentioned a dog, but he liked the phenomenon, so he had been whining almost non-stop for the four days Harry had been back. Also, since Aunt Petunia hated animals in the house so much, the battle was pitched and prolonged, unlike most of Dudley's whine wars, in which the other side capitulated at the first shot.
"Now, Dudders, don't you remember what that bulldog of your aunt's did to your father the last time it was here? Don't you remember how terribly he was hurt? Do you want him to suffer that every day?"
Harry groaned and burrowed his head under his pillow, but even that didn't stop Dudley's voice.
"But Mum, I'd train him. He wouldn't do that. He'd only bite burglars. Or those freaks Potter's friends with. He could scare them off. He could protect me from those menty-things Potter tried to scare me with last year. A dog would keep me safe, Mum. Please? Please, please, can I get one?"
He actually thinks a dog could stop dementors? Or wizards? He's such an idiot.
But I knew that.
The voices from downstairs were quieter now. Today's battle, Harry devoutly hoped, had been completed.
The house shook as Dudley flung himself up the stairs. "Hoy, Potter!" he yelled. "We're going to the pound tomorrow. To look at dogs. And I'll get a nice, big, mean one that doesn't like you!"
Dudley's door slammed, and Harry curled up on his side and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling.
I wish Sirius was here. Or that I felt like he was, the way I did at school sometimes. I felt as if he was right beside me, sitting on my bed, talking to me.
Only he wasn't. And he never will be again.
Tears of frustration and sorrow trailed down Harry's face and spotted the coverlet.
So tomorrow, Dudley gets a dog. Can this summer possibly go any better?
-----
Sirius broke into a run. He was close, so close, he could smell Harry clearly...
That was when something sharp hit him from behind.
OW! What was that?
He tried to turn around, but the affected part of his anatomy turned with him. All he succeeded in doing was bringing a large van into view. A van with people getting out of it. People in uniform.
And suddenly he felt dizzy and sleepy...
This can't be good.
He squinted at the van.
I can't see straight... what does that say?
The letters came into focus. If he had been human, he would have sworn.
That's what I thought.
He slipped and fell onto his side, unable to stand upright any longer.
Damn it!
A woman bent over him, saying something about "taking effect..."
Curse you, Animal Control!
Sirius slipped into darkness.
-----
(A/N: I guess, technically, this is a cliffhanger... but if you can't figure out what's going to happen... ::tee::
Thanks to MAndrews, CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur, and blueJosh. To emikae, also thanks, but a question: What are you doing on your knees?
Afraid I may not update on time this Saturday... sorry, everyone! As soon as possible, I promise!)