Part Two: Pocketful of Thoughts
Harry looked through the living room again, making sure he wasn't just not-seeing things. No, the young Auror was nowhere to be found. "Where's Tonks?" he asked again, growing more worried by the minute. She hadn't come through yet, and if the Dursleys' fireplace was destroyed…
"Still back there, covering our exit," Moody panted, recovering his strength. But he didn't look worried in the slightest.
"Oh don't you mind about little Tonks," Kinsley assured them. "She may not have much experience, but I've seen her in real action. Those Death Eaters will be begging for Azkaban before she even breaks a sweat."
Somehow, Harry did not feel too reassured. No matter how much spunk one had, two Russian Redbacks and a few dozen Death Eaters would make even the great Dumbledore pause.
"How will she get back?" asked Hermione, also worried for her new friend.
Kingsley shook his head, not letting on any worry for his young protégé. "She'll find her own way home. We Aurors are trained to think on our feet. It's half of what we do. If Tonks remembers her training, she'll be just fine."
"Now off to your rooms with you to freshen up," Mrs. Weasley entered the conversation. "Fred, show the Dursleys to their rooms so they can settle in before dinner." Without anything else to do, and a promise for full explanations later, the Dursleys reluctantly followed the equally reluctant twin upstairs.
As Harry turned to escape to his own room shared with Ron, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Mad-Eye Moody with a grim expression on his face. "You acted like an Auror out there today, Potter," he said softly, but with uncharacteristic warmth. "McGonagall says you fancy the noble profession."
"I didn't get to save all those people today," was the soft reply. "And if anything happens to Tonks, it'll be because of me. Aurors don't let people get hurt because they're too inept to keep themselves out of trouble. Four people isn't 200. I couldn't make a difference."
The hand on his shoulder became nearly painful in its harsh grip. "It made a bloody difference to those four people. Our mission was to get you and only you. You jeopardized that mission. But I think I'd be more worried if you hadn't done anything to save them. You're a fool with a heart, Potter, but with some right training, I think you'd make a bloody fine Auror. You did good today. Leave it at that."
Harry recognized the rare praise for what it was, but he knew he couldn't accept it. "But…"
"You're not invincible. You can't always save 200." His voice grew softer to its earlier tone. "Just as you can't always save 1."
At this, Harry walked out of Moody's grip and up the stairs without another word or glance back. The old Auror had crossed the line and the boy didn't want to hear anymore. The frightened voice of Dudley managed to drown out any of his self-deprecating thoughts. Knowing what kind of horrors this house may still hold, and his cousin's knack for finding such trouble, Harry moved to investigate quickly. The last thing he needed was to be blamed for a cursed trunk eating his Muggle cousin.
The large boy had wandered away from his parents and into a side passage of the deceptively small mansion. He was now in Buckbeak's room being nearly mauled by the irate hippogriff. Buckbeak was still tethered to the foot of the large king-sized bed. However, he was pulling at his rope desperately in his attempt to get at the boy who invaded his space.
Dudley, freeze! Stop yelling, it'll only get him angrier," Harry warned, knowing how dangerous an angry Buckbeak could be.
Amazingly, Dudley did stop. Not a muscle moved, but his eyes were wide with fear and a little whimper escaped now and then. Buckbeak was still flapping wildly, though not as desperately as before.
Harry inched forward until he was side by side with his cousin. Bowing solidly before the hippogriff, he waited patiently for him to return the favor.
Buckbeak immediately recognized the boy who had saved his life and the life of his fugitive Master. He bowed right back, chirping in friendly greeting. The larger of the boys was nearly forgotten. Nearly.
"It's ok, Buckbeak," Harry soothed as he reached out to pet him. "Dudley is my cousin. He didn't mean to upset you." When the hippogriff turned a suspicious eye on the large boy, Harry said, "Bow to him, Dudley. And apologize for upsetting him."
"But, I… what is it?!"
"Buckbeak is a hippogriff. They're really proud and you offended him by not bowing. Now do it!"
Quivering like a hunted rabbit, the obese 16-year old managed to fold himself in what he must have thought was a bow. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hippogriff for bothering you." It was probably the first time in his life that he ever voluntarily apologized for anything, but the sight of the enormous hippogriff glaring down on him must have let him make the exception.
Buckbeak must have found this less than satisfactory, but nevertheless he bobbed his head to Dudley. It wasn't a real bow, not by hippogriff standards, but at least it meant that he wouldn't rip the boy to pieces.
"Alright, Dudley, now get out of here before you get him upset again," Harry ordered, not in the mood to play any superiority games with his cousin. "Go off and ask a witch or wizard about your parents or your room. But don't touch anything or go anywhere without one of us with you again, alright?"
It was more than alright, for Dudley zoomed so quickly out of the room that it would seem impossible for one his size.
Satisfied that his overweight nemesis was taken care of, Harry turned to stroke Buckbeak's large downy neck. Buckbeak had been nudging him for attention for a while, and was getting quite impatient.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that great lug, Buckbeak," he said. "And I don't expect you've been getting that much attention since… last term."
The hippogriff chirped sadly in the affirmative. The Order made sure he was taken care of, but the only one who had played and talked with him was his Master. A Master who he hadn't seen in many many weeks. He did not understand why his fellow fugitive would not come to him anymore, and this made him irritable and stir-crazy. But the ministrations of his younger friend calmed him down considerably.
Harry looked down at the hippogriff's right foreleg. An old white bandage was loosely wrapped around it. "Is this where…"
He didn't need to ask, he knew it was. Dropping to his knees, he unwrapped the gauze, surprised that Buckbeak allowed him to do so. There, upon the smoothly scaled leg was a long healing wound. It had obviously been a deep cut, meant to keep the one healing it a long time. Now, it was healing nicely, barely anything more than a scar.
"Damn him!" Harry spat. All the memories of that day flew back to him. "That rotten, traitorous House Elf! If it weren't for him…" he stared at the ground miserably. "No… if it weren't for me. It's all my fault, Buckbeak. I was stupid and reckless and everything he told me not to be and he's dead because of it."
Buckbeak started at this, chirping in confusion. Sirius? His Master? Dead? No, that's not right. Throughout their year and a half of life on the run, Buckbeak and Sirius had faced many dangers and come out on top. The young human had to be wrong.
But deep in his heart, the hippogriff knew it to be true. Sirius would have come to him sooner if he could. He would have been rowing with Molly by now or laughing with Remus. Something very wrong had happened to take his Master away from this world and put new grief and sorrow into already haunted emerald eyes.
Harry wrapped his arms around Buckbeak's plumed head, probably one of the few in the world to willingly embrace a hippogriff. "Remus said that Sirius left the house and everything in it to me. He said that meant you too. I'll take care of you, Buckbeak, I promise. I'll ask Hagrid what to do so you won't be unhappy. Is that ok?"
Buckbeak arched his neck down and nipped so lightly on the boy's shoulder, he may as well not have done it. But in this gesture, Harry knew the hippogriff accepted his new Master. Their relationship would be built on trust. Trust that they would protect and take care of each other.
The boy let go of his new charge and looked around the room. It was a large room, as all rooms in this mansion tended to be. The sheets on the enormous bed, now tattered from its current occupant making his nest, were of the finest velvet red. Tapestries adorned the walls and the remains of what appeared to be an expensive bureau lay in the corner.
"What sort of room was this?" he asked rhetorically. He got up and sifted through the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. In it were fancy combs and hairclips befitting a queen. Then it dawned on him. "This was his parents' room." Why would Sirius give his parents' room to Buckbeak?
There was something else in the drawer too. A four-piece picture album, each part a frame that connected them together.
The first picture was of an aristocratic man dressed in his finest. His hair was long and so black it nearly matched the rich royal blue of his robes. Cold blue eyes stared up at Harry haughtily. But the darkness in him was not so profound that it chilled him the way it did when Lucius Malfoy glared at him. Mr. Black was a man who relied mostly on his wealth and status. His resemblance to Sirius in his elder years was noticeable. It was as though someone had warped the loyal Padfoot into something dark and twisted.
The next picture was one that Harry winced at the sight of. Normally when he saw the intimidating visage of Mrs. Black, ear-splitting screaming accompanied it. But this one remained silent, as all photos were. Now that he was actually able to study her image without getting a headache, one could see what she really may have been like. Her resemblance to Sirius, or rather, Sirius' resemblance to her was even more profound than with the father.
As much as Sirius would turn in his proverbial grave, Harry had to admit that he was his mother's son. From the handsome face, to the almond-shaped eyes, right down to a pair of lungs that could exhaust a banshee, nearly every feature was shared by mother and son. Strength lay in her lapis-lazuli eyes, strength that came not from wealth or power, but from the soul. Hers was an unbreakable spirit.
The next picture, to Harry's bittersweet surprise, was of a 15-year old Sirius, taken a year before the boy would turn his back on his family forever. He looked nearly the same as the Sirius in Snape's Pensieve: mischievous, happy, and perfectly aware of his looks and talents. What surprised Harry was that this picture existed at all when Mrs. Black had made it perfectly clear that her house would not acknowledge that he even existed. Why would she have a picture in her own top drawer of him with the family?
Looking up at Harry, Sirius' face lit up. Grinning as though seeing a long-lost friend, he waved and bounced around like a hyperactive puppy. Harry smiled as well despite himself. It was good to see Sirius again smiling in that carefree way even though it still tore at his heart. But when Sirius mouthed the word 'James,' Harry's smile dropped. Molly's words came back to haunt him.
"He's not James, Sirius!"
How many times had she said that to him during one of their fights? Those two were constantly arguing about him, it was a wonder they could live under the same roof at times. But even though this 15-year old Sirius could not possibly recognize him, the thought that Sirius' adoration for Harry stemmed solely on his looks would not leave him. Did he look so much like his dead father that Sirius really thought his best friend was back? Was he not his own person worthy to be cared for?
A voice in the back of his mind scoffed at those thoughts. Sirius wasn't stupid, he knew that Harry was Harry and James was James. He had just been out of the loop for a while. The boy had seen moments when his godfather momentarily lost himself; the dates on newspapers confused him now and then, as though he did not know what year it was. That did not mean that he did not know who was who.
Not wanting to think any more on it, he moved on to the 4th and final picture. In it was a boy around 13 years old that had the same black hair that fell in front of lazuli almond-shaped eyes as Sirius. But as Harry looked further, Regulus seemed to share a few more of his father's traits than his older brother. He did not seem to have the strength in his eyes that his mother and brother had. Harry could see a weakness there, an over confidence in his financial and familial security perhaps. But even though his arrogance was plain as day, Harry couldn't see anything in those bright eyes that would predict a future as a Death Eater. When the boy caught sight of Harry looking down on him, he didn't wave enthusiastically, but he did nod his head in friendly greeting which Harry felt inclined to return.
He wanted to keep the small group of picture frames, but it felt too much like stealing. The house and all its belongings were now his, and he knew Sirius wouldn't have minded. But if he started changing things in the house, if he began moving things to his liking, it would be like admitting Sirius had come and was now gone. Like Mrs. Black had done.
"Harry! Dinner's ready!" came the voice of George from the bottom of the stairs. Startled, he looked at the clock in the corner. Had he been up here so long? Stuffing the pictures into his pocket, he rushed downstairs. He and Remus had made a mutual agreement a few weeks ago to worry the Order as little as possible. That included coming to and eating at mealtime. And Harry wanted to keep up his end of the bargain, just so he could reassure his friend if… no, when Remus returned.
The table was set in much the same fashion as it always was. Tonks' seat was currently being occupied by Mrs. Dursley. The seat next to it at the head of the table, Sirius' seat, was filled by Mr. Dursley. That in and of itself was enough to put Harry in a foul mood. But the seat on the other side of Mr. Dursley, the one usually reserved for Harry, was taken by his cousin already. So now he couldn't even sit next to Ron to vent about his family. The only other available seat was Remus', which was empty next to Moody and Mrs. Figg.
"Tonks isn't back yet?" he asked by way of bringing his presence to their attention. He meandered his way to the werewolf's chair, not once acknowledging the Dursleys.
"She'll be back in her own good time, Potter," Moody chastised. "Now don't you worry any more about it."
"Harry, I didn't get to see you much before dinner," Hermione said softly from her seat across from him. "Is everything alright?
He gave her a slight look that said 'what do you think?' He nodded anyway for the sake of Molly who would be sure to fuss like no one ever could if she thought he was miserable. He wasn't miserable per say, not anymore. But it was something that he wanted to deal with on his own. "Everything's fine. I just visited Buckbeak for a while."
At the name of the large hippogriff, Dudley dropped the roll he was grabbing at, but otherwise had no other reaction. It seemed he wanted to make a low profile among all the witches and wizards. A hard feat when one weighed the same as a young elephant. Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes at his son's slip, always the one keen on picking up on 'weirdness.'
"And what sort of… person is this… er, Buckbeak?" he asked calmly. His tone had thankfully gone down from his earlier shouting. Either he lacked the long-term lung capacity that his wife had, or he was trying his hardest not to upset any of his hosts.
The room quieted down a little. The Muggles had been keeping to themselves until now. Now was the time the Dursleys finally found out about the world their nephew went to for 9 months at a time. And after the stories… well, most of the Order was curious about the strange Muggles they heard so much about.
"Buckbeak's a hippogriff, not a person," Harry replied just as calmly, not wanting to upset his uncle any sooner than possible.
"A what?" Vernon asked.
"A hippogriff. Front of an eagle and back of a horse. He's like… a pet of mine."
The great burly man had no opportunity to reply for he had to stop his wife and son from each grabbing a scoop of pasta that was going around the table. Ginny, who was sitting next to Dudley and trying to pass on the bowl nearly dropped it all at the sound of the man's demanding voice. "Bully for your pet, but we're not eating a bite until you explain to me what the bloody hell is going on!" Poor Ginny, looking slightly green with nervousness, sent a look for help to Harry.
He knew his relatives' calmness was too good to last. "Uncle Vernon, please…"
"No, not this time, boy! I think we've been more than patient with all this up till now. We've had our home attacked by Death Heaners, whatever the hell they are, shoved through a bloody fire, and now we're shacked up in some mad clown house!"
"Calm down, Mr. Dursley," Arthur said with the patience only a father of 7 could posses. "I understand how this must be most distressing for you. I assure you that we'll explain everything you want to know before the night it out. Now would you like to try some spaghetti? My wife, Molly, is a wonder in the kitchen."
"Please, Uncle Vernon," Harry pleaded for peace. "Just eat something. I'll tell you everything you want to know."
"Do you have any specific questions, Mr. Dursley?" asked Arthur, still the futile peacemaker.
"Questions? Of course I have questions! What the hell is going on?!"
"How much do you know about our world? About Harry?"
"Nothing! That blasted boy doesn't tell us anything."
"I see." Arthur paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Well, in a nutshell, in our world, Harry is famous." He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "15 years ago, Harry defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of our time. This wizard had terrorized our world, and yours though you didn't know it, since you and I were young. And Harry managed to defeat him while only a baby."
The story began from there and went on to present day. Harry had to give the Dursleys credit: they managed to be a decent audience, their curiosity momentarily overriding their revulsion for all things magical. He had to clarify a few things when Mr. Weasley got ahead of himself. But the Dursleys managed to get the main points.
"The war has started again," Arthur finished. "There… have already been casualties. Your family will be in danger for as long as You-Know-Who knows you are in contact with Harry."
"Then that's it then," Uncle Vernon deduced. "We cut all ties to the boy and your little civil war will let us be!" His wife and son did not join in his ravings, both looking slightly ill. But Aunt Petunia's face also held no great surprise for what was going on. This was so new for her family, yet, despite trying her hardest to lead a normal life, of the three, she held the most knowledge of this strange new world.
"It will never let you be until it's done and Voldemort destroyed," Harry denied, ignoring the flinches that passed among most of his magical companions. "Where will you go back to? The house is destroyed! And the Death Eaters will keep on coming after you in case you know anything, even if you don't. You're going to have to stay here for a while, so you may as well get used to it."
"Do not take that tone with us, boy," Uncle Vernon growled. "In your freaky world you may be some special little celebrity, but that doesn't give you the right to…"
"Oh come off it, Dursley," Moody growled right back. "Your belly-aching is giving me indigestion."
"And what do you expect us to do while you fight your war?" asked his aunt, finally bringing herself into the conversation. She was still very calm, almost excessively so, as though to keep in the shock settling in. Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know. I guess you'll just have to stay here with me."
"Don't tell me this mad house is yours?" his uncle cried in disbelief. While it certainly held its share of oddities, anyone could see this manor was a veritable mansion worth a good fortune.
Hermione saw this branch of conversation was making her friend uncomfortable so she tried to end it quickly. "It was given to him."
"Who would give you a house?" Dudley snorted, gaining some confidence.
Harry's fist banged against the table loudly, causing complete silence in the room. He had had enough of this round-about inquisition and his family's hostility. All he wanted was to rest in this house where he knew he was safe and forget about what had just happened. But every time he began to relax, the fresh pain from Sirius' death was always brought up. His face was pained as he spoke, but his eyes were smoldering emeralds that shone dangerously. "My godfather left it to me before he died a few months ago."
Vernon would have made some cheeky remark, but the look on his nephew's face made him hold it in. He had never sent the boy like… this before. For a moment he thought he could feel the power in the boy's body and he knew he was much more dangerous than previously believed.
"Alright then, fine," he reluctantly agreed. "We'll stay for the time being. But if you're the only one that can end this bloody war, then you'd better damn well hurry. I'll not have my family in danger any longer than necessary."
"I'm going as fast as I can," the boy replied, miserable with the situation and himself.
"It's getting late," Molly said as she began to collect the plates. "We won't be winning any wars tonight. So why don't you children head up to bed. You've had a long day."
Most were eager to comply, uncomfortable with the conversation. But Harry stayed behind. He stared down at the empty space in front of him for a moment before he spoke next. "Mrs. Weasley… where's Professor… er… Remus? He said he would only be gone for a few days, and I never hear that he got back."
Molly didn't look at him as she answered, bustling with the plates more than usual. "His assignment ran a little later than expected."
"Is he alright though? What did he have to do?"
"We don't talk about that, you know that, Harry. Now don't you worry about Remus, he's the brains of the Order with a few tricks up his sleeve. He'll be fine," Mr. Weasley assured him.
Somehow, this failed to cheer Harry up. He sensed a cloud of denial over the house. If someone wasn't there, then there was no reason to worry. Those missing would be just fine. There was no need to rush out for a rescue mission. Had the events of last spring not only made Harry overly cautious, but the Order as well? Did they no longer wish to run into a hidden trap like the one Harry had unknowingly sent them into?
End Part Two
A/N: Alright, I know there's more than one person reading this. How am I supposed to know how good I am doing if no one bloody tells me? If you hate it, tell me why so I can try to improve. If you like it, tell me why so I can continue what I'm doing. Feedback people! I need feedback! I spend way too much time writing this stuff up for you, the least you can do is spend 2 minutes writing a review. puppy dog eyes please? Ok, ranting done
Now to respond to my lovely reviewer!
Nuwie: sorry about not emailing you sooner. School is crazy and with marching band and rotc, it's lucky I get a moment to sleep and eat. so yeah, I'm plugging away at it, and I'll send another picture or two you way. Btw, the pic you sent me didn't work. Ok, now to the actual review : ) Of course there will be more Remus! What would I do without him? And I like your little thought about Remus and what he feels about Sirius butting in on Harry's affections. May I use it? Ttyl!