Beta Reading: Joycelyn Solo. Many thanks!
Chapter Fifteen: Problems
That morning things weren't going well for Severus Snape. He'd spent half of the previous night correcting exams of dumb Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, so the next morning it took him much longer than normal to wake up, but it didn't end there. Somehow he managed to burn the breakfast and had to cook it all over again, and then he had to wait for Connor fifteen minutes more because he couldn't find his school bag.
Utterly annoyed, he managed to get Connor out of the house just in time, but as soon as he arrived to the school he realised that his problems were far from over. The building's windows were shut and there was no one in sight. Intrigued, Connor and Snape went to the front door to investigate more closely. It didn't take them long to notice a piece of parchment on the front door, written with Mr. Banerji's flourished handwriting.
'It seems he's too ill to teach,' Connor said, sounding a little disappointed. It never stopped to amaze Snape the fact Connor actually liked school, when for him it had been an endless nightmare.
He scowled. He didn't remember the last time he hadn't attended a class because of a mere indisposition. He sighed.
'I'll have to leave you with Mrs. Frobisher, then,' Snape said, shrugging. Connor turned to look at him, surprised.
'But, Severus, Mrs. Frobisher isn't at home. She went to Birmingham to visit her sister.'
Snape repressed a groan when he realised Connor was right. Now what was he going to do? There weren't other people in Hogsmeade he knew well enough to ask them to take care of Connor on such short notice. Besides, he was already late for his own class.
'I guess you can come to Hogwarts with me,' he told the boy, who beamed. 'But you'd better hurry or I'll be late.'
Knowing how much his foster father hated being late, Connor hurried after him, glad at the prospect of seeing Hogswarts again. Surely Hagrid would let him play with Fang, and maybe he could take a look at the Forbidden Forest without Severus noticing, or examine some of the castle's secret passageways. Either way, it promised to be an interesting morning.
Much to Snape's dismay, he had no choice but to leave Connor in Hagrid's care. He'd never trusted the gatekeeper that much, but he had taken care of Connor before and the truth was that no one else was available.
So Snape hastened to his dungeon, but if he'd known what was going to happen he'd have felt even uneasier at the idea of leaving Connor with Hagrid. But of course he couldn't know, therefore all that was on his mind that morning was the glum prospect of facing his dull students once more.
It's needless to say that Connor was delighted to spend the morning in Fang's company, while Hagrid took care of his work, fixing the roof of one of the greenhouses. Every now and then, Connor shot curious glances at the Forbidden Forest, and a couple of times he walked a little further away than he should have. He couldn't explain it, but he felt that the dark, bent trees, attracted him and rejected him at the same time. There was something in the dancing shadows, in the soft and yet menacing whispers which came from the forest, that seemed to be calling him. It was something he couldn't understand, something beyond reason.
Or perhaps it was just that it was forbidden, and therefore looked more attractive than it really was. Whatever the reason was, he wouldn't find out, not with Hagrid around. The half-giant wouldn't let Connor get a step too close to the woods.
Disappointed, Connor sat on the ground, with Fang's head on his lap, and he watched the mysterious trees. His mind wandered, and he found himself thinking about Draco Malfoy's upcoming party, in which the boy's father had promised there'd be tons of fireworks. Connor still didn't like Draco very much, but Theo Nott would be there and besides, the fireworks would be great...
Clack, clack.
Connor blinked and looked up. The sound was so faint at first that he thought he might have imagined it, but as seconds passed the sound was louder. Clack, clack. Connor concentrated on the sound. It was a horse. And it was coming from the forest.
He wanted to alert Hagrid, but no sound came from his mouth. Instead, he watched mesmerized at the trees in front of him, waiting with a hint of apprehension for the creature to show up. The steps were coming closer and closer... they were just in front of him... but why couldn't he see anything?
'Lad, what're yeh lookin' at?' Hagrid followed Connor's gaze, and let out a small 'oh.' Then he ran towards the place the creature should have been standing, and began patting and caressing an invisible form.
'Yeh're ill. The others're the same?'
Connor blinked. Had Hagrid gone mad? What was he talking to?
'Connor, I gotta take care of somethin', in the forest. And no, yeh can't come with me.'
Hagrid took him to the hospital wing, but this time Madam Pomfrey was too occupied (it seemed there was an epidemic among Hogwarts students). Hagrid didn't know what to do. Professor Snape would be mad if he took the boy to the Forbidden Forest with him. Noticing his dilemma, Connor piped up.
'You could leave me at Severus' office. I've been there thousands of times.'
To Hagrid's own credit, he hesitated a moment. Maybe leaving the kid alone wasn't a good idea. But then, he had to take care of the thestrals. They needed him. And Connor was a good lad. He wouldn't get into trouble.
After an hour in Severus' office, Connor was bored to death. He'd spent the time examining the glass jars and the weird things inside them, drawing miles of parchment and now he was reading one of Severus' books, called Draughts for Dummies. He flipped through the pages, bored. What was the point of reading about potions' recipes if he wasn't going to prepare one?
Hold on a second...
Some of the potions in the book were very simple. In fact, he thought they couldn't have been easier. Probably they were even easier than the ones Severus taught to first years. Some of them were so simple that he bet he could prepare them himself. He had helped Severus with his potions a thousand times. And he had all the ingredients at hand...
Half an hour later, a way too proud Connor Angel was walking down the corridor to Severus' classroom, a small crystal bottle in his hand. He was going to wait for him outside the dungeon and he'd show him what he'd done. He was sure Severus would be proud of him.
However, in this life things rarely turn out the way we plan, and this case was no exception. When he was just a few meters away from the dungeon, he felt something furry against his ankle. Looking down, he realised it was none other than Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat.
Connor was delighted. Even though he preferred dogs, he thought cats were great too. Or at least he thought so until that day.
Forgetting for a moment all about the potion he'd made, he kneeled to caress the cat's back. Any other cat would have loved the attention, but Mrs. Norris wasn't like other cats. She was the most annoying, insufferable little animal in Hogwarts, which hated children and nearly everyone else, with the exception of her owner. So when Connor gently caressed her back, instead of purring, which would have been the appropriate thing to do, she bit him.
Startled, Connor winced and the small bottle slipped from his tiny hand... and smashed into the nearest tapestry. The woman in it shrieked and ran away, and soon it became obvious why she'd done that.
The potion Connor had prepared was a simple solution to erase ink... and in this case was erasing the colours of the tapestry as well. Horrified, Connor watched the tapestry as a white stain spread over it, erasing the intricate drawings and mixing the colours. But his problems were far from over...
'What are you doing here, little wrongdoer?'
As his eyes widened in terror, Connor turned around to face none other than the owner of the damn, extremely impolite cat: Argus Filch. And he didn't look happy. In fact, his eyes were also widening in horror and his face was reddening...which made him look truly scary.
Before Connor could react, Filch had grabbed him by the neck and began to shake him, bellowing all the insults he could think of. Connor did what any other six-year-old child would have done: he struggled, bit and kicked his opponent, and when all of this didn't work, he started to scream at the top of his lungs.
Snape wasn't in a good mood. One of his stupid students had almost blown up his cauldron, and to cap all matters the idiot had turned out to be a Slytherin, nevertheless. The other half of the class (those bloody Gryffindors) had started laughing and jeering, until Snape had risen from his seat with a murderous look on his face.
'Silence!'
Being mere second-years like they were, the children hastened to shut up and sit down, their hearts pounding in their chests. Snape looked really mad, and they had enough experience at Hogwarts to know that was never a good sign.
However, before Snape could open his mouth and tell his moronic students what he thought about them, a series of bellows where heard, followed by a terrified scream. What the...?
Snape ran to the door, with many of the students on his heels, and snapped it open. In the corridor, just a few meters ahead, he saw Filch manhandling a small boy while he shouted at top of his lungs. He couldn't see the small boy's face, but he realised at once he was much smaller than the shortest first-year ever.
'FILCH!' He strolled down the corridor, and harshly grabbed the older man by the shoulders. 'Leave that boy immeadietely! I don't care what he's done, set him on the floor right now!'
Filch might have lost his control, but he wasn't mad enough to disobey a teacher, especially Snape, who was one of the few that counted with his respect... and a good amount of fear.
Connor ran to Snape and wrapped his arms around his legs, clearly shaken. Snape grabbed him with a gentleness his students had never imagined he possesed and began caressing his hair as he shot Filch one of his worst glares.
'Now,' he said, with his most dangerous tone, 'I'd like to know what really happened.'
It took him another fifteen minutes to get the full story. When it was over, he noticed most of his students were staring at Connor and him with their mouths half open, which made them look even dumber than usual.
'What are you looking at? Go back immediately to your seats!'
Frightened, the students did so, but Snape could hear them whispering excitedly about what had happened. Great. Now his reputation was ruined. Or at least severely damaged.
'Filch, take that damned cloth to my office. I'll fix it later. And then,' and at this point, his tone turned into ice, 'we'll have a chat about the appropriate way of treating a child.'
The caretaker paled, but did as he was told. As for Connor, he seemed to be too hysterical to be able to reason, so Snape decided to leave him with McGonagall, who was the only teacher who had a free period. There'd be enough time later to have a long talk with Connor about touching adult's stuff and mixing potions on his own.
Connor was nervous. Severus hadn't talked much since the incident with Filch, and he looked positively mad. The truth was that Snape's paleness was due to his tiredness, and that he was much angrier at Filch and his students than he was at Connor, but the child had no way to know that.
So by the time they reached their home he felt truly apprehensive, and when Snape started his lecture he visibly paled. He didn't protest, though, and he listened in silence to his tutor.
It's possible that Snape's tiredness and the memory of his argument with Filch made him to be harsher than he intended, or perhaps it was just that he didn't know how to chastise a child without terryfing him (in spite of all he had said to Filch, he wasn't much better at dealing with children than the grumpy caretaker). Either way, the result was that Snape's lecture made Connor think that his actions were much worse than they truly were. Or maybe it was just the strict discipline Holtz had given him.
In silence, the boy nodded so Snape would know he'd understood his words, and walked out of the living room. When he came back, he was carrying a children-size Quidditch bat, which he handed to Snape solemnly. Thunderstruck, Snape looked first at the bat and then at Connor, who was paler than ever.
'Connor, I'm afraid I don't understand.'
The boy looked up at him and a different range of emotions crossed his face. The first one was surprise, then a feeble hope, followed by something that looked like resignation and finally, a brave resolve.
'It's to discipline me.'
It took a moment for the full meaning of Connor's words to sink in Snape's brain. To discipline me. For Merlin's beard, where had Connor got such a preposterous idea? Were any of his classmates treated that way? Or...?
A severe-looking man, teaching a small boy how to hunt ("you'll eat for dinner what you hunt, nothing else")... The same man, talking gravely about God's rules and the importance of following them, no matter what, to a three-year-old... An argument between a woman and the man, saying that killing was too merciful... And then, a terrified and sobbing Connor explaining what Holtz had done to the evil wizard. "He cut off his tongue and his hands"... And the way Connor had talked about burning evil witches, as if it were the most natural thing in the world...
Of course. A man like Daniel Holtz probably thought that the only way to discipline a child was by using a cane regularly. Snape didn't notice how his knuckles were turning white. Of course, surely Holtz had told Connor that the physical punishment was necessary, that it was for his own good...
At that thought, a flood of memories invaded his mind, but this time the memories were no longer Connor's...
A tall, dark and hook-nosed man was pointing him with an ebony wand. "You know, son, that this is for your own good..." A woman cried in the near distance, "Darling, don't, he's just a child"... but when, when had that stopped his father before?
The hand clutching the bat was shaking in fury, until Snape, trying to get rid of the memories as soon as possible, threw the offending piece of wood to the opposite side of the room. Connor winced, and his heart began pounding when he saw the cold rage in Severus' eyes when he turned to look at him.
'Never, ever again mention that way of discipline.' His voice was trembling from anger, and he still couldn't control the shaking of his hands. 'Understood?'
The boy nodded, looking much more scared now than he'd done before.
'Good. Now go to your bedroom, and stay there until I tell you otherwise.'
Connor nodded and hurried to get out of his sight with almost the same eagerness Snape had wanted to get out of his own father's way as a child.
Still trembling, he sank into the nearest armchair and hid his face in his hands. Merlin, this was so ridiculous. He was a grown-up now, his father could no longer hurt him in any way. He'd lost that ability several years ago, after his mother's passing, and after he'd sworn he'd never set foot in his house ever again...
And yet, the memories still haunted him, in spite of all the effort he'd put in blocking them... So much pain, so many regrets...
And that wasn't the worst part. The worst of all had been seeing Connor's terrified face, which had looked like a carbon copy of his own when he'd been a child.
It wasn't that Snape had never seen a terrified child before. Long ago he'd discovered that the quickest way to earn his slow pupils' respect was to scare them on their first day at school. Yes, he was aware that most of his students feared him at least a little bit, and he didn't deny that there was a part of him that was proud of that fact. He'd provoked terrified faces on his students far more times than he could count, and he'd never cared.
But this time it had been different. Not only because he cared for Connor (reaching this stage, Snape was ready to admit that he was quite fond of the child), but also because for the first time in his life he hadn't meant to scare him... But especially because it had been the first time he had reminded himself of his father, which was more than he could take.
Snape didn't know how long he spent in the same position, but when he looked up again he realised the shadows had extended through the whole room and that he was feeling hungry. He reflected that he should probably go upstairs and apology to Connor before preparing dinner, when he heard insistent knocking on the back door. Startled, he figured out that the knocking had probably been taking place long before he'd noticed it, and he hastened to open the door.
Standing in the doorway, wrapped in a deep red cloak, was Darla. Too late Snape remembered that this night she was supposed to visit her child. He was distracted from this thought, though, when he noticed she wasn't alone.
Standing next to her there was a pale, peroxide blonde man fully dressed in black, with a long, leather duster. Although he doubted, due to his paleness, he was really a man.
'Severus, this is Spike. I've told you about him: he was with me at the Sunnydale debacle, and he was the one who helped me out with the wish-granter thing.' She hesitated a moment. 'He can wait outside if you want.'
Snape pondered the thought a moment, then shrugged. 'It's fine. He can come in.'
Once in the kitchen, he slid into a chair and told Darla Connor was upstairs. Her companion walked out of the kitchen, mumbling something meeting the big poofter's brat, but Darla didn't move from her spot.
'Severus, is everything alright?'
He shrugged, trying his best to look indifferent. 'Of course. Why wouldn't it be?'
He should have known that someone as old and experienced as Darla wasn't fooled that easily. She called after Spike and told him she'd be with him in a minute, then she sat in front of him.
'Is there something wrong with Connor?' she asked, sincere concern creeping into her voice.
At first, Snape wasn't going to tell her anything, but then he decided that Darla was the only one who could answer the million questions that had came to his mind.
'What kind of a man was Daniel Holtz?'
Darla looked shocked at first, until she understood that it probably had to do with Connor's upbringing. 'Well, you already know what Connor's father and I did to him.' Yes, that was something Snape was sadly aware. 'He'd always been implacable, but his family's tragedy turned him into a merciless creature.' Darla proceeded then to explain how Holtz had chased them the following decade, and she enumerated not only the vampires and supposedly evil witches he'd killed, but also the people of his own team he'd led to death. Finally, she told him the circumstances of Connor's kidnapping, according to what Wyndam-Pryce had told her.
When she finished her tale, Snape's face was somber. Everything Darla had said sounded much like the idea he had of Holtz, which wasn't exactly pleasant.
'Why did you ask this? Has Connor told you something?'
Snape looked at her. Her eyes were fixed on him and she was twisting her hands frantically.
When he'd asked her about Holtz, he had no intention of telling her anything about what had happened. Not only because he wasn't much of a sharing person, but also because he still didn't trust her completely, no matter what Dumbledore said. The only reason he'd allowed her to take Connor out of his sight had been the Headmaster's insistence, nothing else.
However, there was something in the anxious glint of her eyes, in the frantic way she twisted her hands, that forcibly reminded him of the way his mother had used to fuss over him after he'd received one of his father's beatings. And that day he probably was susceptible enough to past memories, because before he realised it he was telling her about some of the stuff Connor had endured in Pylea, and then about what Connor had said referring discipline. When he finished, Darla's face was as somber as his.
'I should have known,' she said darkly. 'He wasn't going to be gentle with Connor, when we... well, you know. Slaughtered his whole family and all.'
Darla wasn't the type of person who tried to conceal her past faults, he had to give her some credit for that.
'What did you tell Connor? When he gave you the bat?'
Snape did not show signs of uneasiness, but he carefully avoided her penetrating eyes.
'I told him I wouldn't use those means of,' Snape pursed his lips in a thin, derisive line, 'discipline with him'.
Darla said nothing, but eyed him intently and he bet she'd noticed his sudden stiffness. However, she didn't comment anything about it, and instead said she'd better check on Connor and Spike. Suddenly remembering something, Snape called after her.
'Oh, Darla, just one thing else. Tell Connor he can leave his room now.'
Looking intrigued, she nodded and left the kitchen.
An hour later, Connor walked down the stairs hand in hand with his mother, chattering with the peroxide blonde about Merlin knew what. Obviously he'd forgotten all about the previous incident as he beamed at Snape when he saw him.
'Severus, Spike has an eclectical guitar! Isn't that great?'
Snape nodded, commenting that it was certainly fantastic, and Connor let go his mother and dragged Spike to show him something. Snape raised an eyebrow. Connor usually took more time to trust complete strangers, but it seemed that him and Spike had gotten along perfectly. He'd better watch out for the kind of friends Connor chose.
'Connor said something about what happened today.'
Snape jerked his head and looked at Darla. Great. Now she was going to recriminate him for losing control or, even worse, she'd go to Dumbledore and complain about him having Connor's custody...
But she did none of that. Instead, she gave him an amused smile.
'He says he's finally figured out why the potion ruined the tapestry when it was supposed to only erase normal ink. It seems he mixed a couple of ingredients in the wrong order.'
They stared to each other... and burst into laughter.
'Yeah, I had kind of figured that out myself. But he did it quite well. Actually, he did much better than many of my first-year students.'
She smiled. 'He's a special boy.' She shifted and hesitated. Snape frowned, waiting.
'It's funny, you know,' she said, in a completely different tone. 'No matter how hard you try to run away from it, your past always seems to catch on you.'
Half an hour later, the visit time had reached its end, and Darla and Spike were getting ready to leave. Spike waved his hand at Snape, caressed Connor's head and walked out; Darla kneeled to receive a kiss on the cheek from her son, who then ran upstairs. Darla was the only one who received that manifestations of affection from the shy child.
In the very last minute, Snape found himself facing an internal struggle, struggle that didn't end until Darla had almost reached the door.
'Darla, wait!' She stopped on her tracks and turned to look at him, intrigued. 'See, next Friday night I might be busy. Would you like to take Connor out or something?'
She frowned, clearly bewildered, then broke into a smile.
'I'd love to.'
It started in a quite innocent way, actually. Like most of the dangerous things usually did.
It was a regular Saturday morning, and Sirius and Harry were at the local supermarket buying food for their lunch. While Sirius tried to decide which products might be bad for a five-year-old child's health, Harry chattered, jumping up and down, about a school field trip that'd take place the following Monday.
Sirius was still amazed at the change operated in Harry. A year or so ago, he was a far too quiet kid, who seemed to be afraid of expressing any feelings and that had obviously seen too much. Now, however, he was a healthy, cheerful boy, and he certainly liked this version better. Just a few months ago it had been so painful to look at Harry, with all the sadness and fear in his bright green eyes. In spite of his physical appearence, he had looked so little like his parents (both people full of life and confidence) and so much like a scared little kid who had never received love from anyone. Sirius smiled fondly at his best friend's son, glad to see how much happier he looked now than he'd done when they'd first met. It made him proud to think he'd had something to do with that change. He owed James that much. And Lily.
'And the teacher says we might see a lot of squarrels at the park, like Chip and Dale ones,' Harry was saying, 'and pigeons, or perhaps it was doves, I get confused by them.'
'Whatever you see, I bet you'll have loads of fun,' replied Sirius, stroking his messy jet-black hair, so characteristic of James. The child beamed.
'Can I take some Kit-Kats?'
They were discussing about how much chocolate it was advisable for Harry to eat (and it seemed like Harry was going to win the discussion) when a high-ptiched voice was heard behind them.
'But if it is Sirius Black!'
As he turned around, Sirius begged it to be just a work partner, maybe a recent client, anyone except someone from his past. When he saw the person's appearence, though, he had to suppress a groan.
It was a woman only a few years older than Sirius himself, with a plump face and a look of perpetual curiosity in her eyes. And her clothes! She was wearing an olive green set of robes, and a pointed hat. She couldn't have made a poorer choice of clothes than if she had wished to attract unwanted attention on purpouse.
Sirius shot anxious glances on both sides, to see whether there was a possible way out, but it was already too late as she approached him.
'It's been so long since we last met!'
Sirius, who was more shocked than glad at the unexpected meeting, had to force himself to nod. In fact, he thought, as he eyed the woman again, he was much, much more shocked than glad.
'And... ooooh, I can't believe it! This is Harry Potter himself!'
Several people turned to stare at them, which wasn't surprising as the woman's shrieks could be heard from everywhere. Sirius decided he'd had enough, especially when he noticed that Harry – very wisely – had decided to hide behind him, looking apprehensive.
'Harry, this woman here went to school with your father and I, a few years ahead of us.'
Harry gave a tiny nod at the explanation, but he didn't look altogether reassured and it was no wonder, as the woman kept staring at the scar on his forehead as if it were the freakiest thing in the world.
Noticing this, Sirius hurried to say 'Harry, why don't you get some Kit-Kats? And you can get some crisps for the field trip, if you want.'
The boy hastened to do what he'd been told, more than happy to get away from that perturbingly strange woman. Sirius tried his best to hide his satisfaction. He'd sent Harry far enough so he wouldn't overhear the adults' conversation, without getting out of his sight. As soon as he was certain that Harry wasn't looking at them, he turned to glare at the woman.
'Bertha Jorkins.' Nothing in his tone indicated he was particularly glad at meeting her again. But, of course, one could always count on Bertha's own stupidity.
'Oooh, you still remember me! And it's been ages since we saw each other for the last time. You've disappeared so mysteriously from the wizarding world, you left everyone wondering what had happened of you. I'm not surprised, though. After the way the Ministry treated you...' Bertha sighed, but Sirius suspected she'd only done so to make her words sound more melodramatic. 'I'm glad to say I had nothing to do with it, as back then I hadn't started to work at the Ministry yet.'
Sirius blinked. Did Bertha work at the Ministry? He had to repress the urge to laugh, until he remebered that people like Barty Crouch and Cornelius Fudge still worked there.
'No one knew where had you gone, but I should have known you'd be taking care of little Harry, when you and James were so close. Oh, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am at his demise', she added seriously. Sirius stared at her in disbelief. Was she paying her respects four years after James' and Lily's deaths?
'I'm delighted to see you so well, and I´m sure everyone I know will be glad to know you´ve moved on with your life...'
Suddenly, the full meaning of Bertha's words hit Sirius, who started.
'Bertha!' he exclaimed, grabbing her arm. 'Surely you are not thinking of telling anyone about this meeting, are you?'
The witch blinked, surprised. 'Why not? It's not like you're a fugitive anymore.'
Sirius repressed the urge to twist her arm.
'Because it wouldn't be safe for Harry!' he hissed. 'Why do you think Dumbledore has told no one about me obtaining Harry's custody? Imagine what would happen if one of Voldemort's old supporters found out where the Boy-Who-Lived lives!'
At the mention of Voldemort's name, Bertha jumped, but soon composed. She glared at Sirius, and replied in an indignant tone:
'I would never tell a Death Eater where Harry lives. I'm not that foolish.'
In an instant, Sirius was reminded just how stupid Bertha truly was when they were both at Hogwarts.
'I'm not saying,' he whispered, trying his best not to sound harsh, 'that you'd tell a Death Eater. What I'm saying,' Sirius said every word clearly and slowly, as if he were talking to a small child (a rather stupid one), 'is that you could tell someone that might not be discreet enough. Have I made myself clear enough?'
A look of dawning comprehension appeared on Bertha's dim face. 'Of course! You're right, many people can't be trusted on such a serious matter. Don't worry, Sirius, I'll tell no living soul. Your secret is safe with me. After all, now that I work at the Ministry I have to keep secrets all the time. I can do it.'
It's needless to say that Sirius didn't believe a word of what she'd said. As soon as he could, he paid Mrs. Figg a visit.
The old woman listened intently to his tale, a frown forming on her face.
'But what was she doing here in the first place, for Merlin's beard? The Ministry is supposed to check that no other wizard or witch lives anywhere near Harry!'
Sirius snorted. He hadn't much trust in the Ministry's competence these days.
'She said that she was with a Muggleborn friend, visiting her family.'
Mrs. Figg nodded absently, the frown becoming deeper.
'Sirius, do you think we can trust her word?'
The man sighed. 'I'm afraid we can't. The Bertha I knew was incapable of keeping her mouth shut, and she doesn't seem to have changed one little bit. No, she won't keep such a juicy piece of news to herself,' he hissed through gritted teeth, feeling how his temper rose. 'Things could have gone worse only if it had been Rita Skeeter instead of Bertha, but there's no reason to believe Bertha won't go to the Daily Prophet and spill the beans.'
His fist slammed the coffe table, making the tea cups tremble. Mrs. Figg looked startled, and Sirius hurried to apology.
'Dumbledore will stop her' Mrs. Figg said, calm. 'He's the only one who can.'
Sirius would have liked to share her confidence, but he was afraid that, unless he erased her memory, Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop Bertha in time.
In the following days, both Mrs. Figg and Sirius feared the arrival of the news. What if Bertha had really gone to the Daily Prophet? Most journalists wouldn't take her seriously, but Sirius knew at least one reporter who would. And, now he came to think of it, that wasn't even necessary. If Bertha started telling all her friends and relatives (or at least some of them) what she'd found out, sooner or later the news would reach the ears of someone inconvenient.
Nothing came out in the Daily Prophet, though, and Dumbledore kept assuring them that he'd strongly warned Bertha not to tell anyone what she knew. Surely Bertha wouldn't be silly enough to ignore Dumbledore's warnings, or at least that was what Mrs. Figg said. As far as Sirius was concerned, Bertha was more than stupid enough to do something of that sort.
However, as weeks passed by without unpleaseant news, Sirius began to think that he might have been wrong about Bertha after all. Maybe she'd really matured since her school days, or maybe Dumbledore's warnings – and threats – had been enough to keep her quiet. Either way, Sirius began to feel more at ease as days went by and soon he had, if not forgotten, at least got over his worst fears.
Harry welcomed Sirius' change of attitude, as his godfather had been acting in quite a strange way since that Saturday morning. Now, though, Sirius seemed to have recovered all his usual cheerfulness, so soon he and Harry returned to their normal lives.
This, however, didn't last long, as the first signs of warning didn't take long to appear. At first, Mr. Meadows, the next-door-neighbour, commented that some people had been looking for Sirius Black's address. Sirius tried to ease his mind telling himself that it proabably had something to do with his job, or some other perfectly normal Muggle affair. But then other neighbours started saying that they had been questioned about Sirius and, much to his own alarm, about Harry. Feeling uneasy, he hastened to tell Dumbledore and Mrs. Figg what was going on, but he wasn't really preoccupied until he received a call from Mr. Blewett, Harry's teacher, saying that he'd received the visit of a couple that had asked odd questions about Harry. When Sirius asked for further details, Mr. Blewett's description fit with a couple of wizards poorly disguised as Muggles, just to say that the man was wearing a dress and the woman a pointed hat.
The first thing Sirius did was to write a letter to Dumbledore, detailing what was going on, and then he decided to ask Harry whether he'd noticed people staring at him funny or approaching him with odd questions.
The child looked surprised at his godfather's inquiries. He replied he hadn't noticed anyone weird, and that he hadn't talked to any strangers. Sirius didn't feel altogether reassured. After all, Harry was a still a small child, and it would be very easy for an adult to spy on him without him noticing. But as he couldn't think of something better to do, he waited for Dumbledore's answer as patiently as he could.
Fortunately he didn't have to wait long. That very same day he got an owl from Dumbledore, commanding him to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible. Afer reading the letter, Sirius felt uneasy. With all the stuff that was going on, he didn't want to have Harry out of his sight, but he understood Dumbledore's urgency so he had no choice but to leave Harry at Mrs. Figg's, much to the boy's disappointment.
There was something else troubling Sirius, something that might have seemed silly in comparison to the other stuff, but that worried him anyway. From what Dumbledore said in his letter, he could easily deduce that he didn't have enough time to travel by Muggle transport, but as he didn't own a broom anymore and his fireplace wasn't connected to the Floo Network, his only option was Apparating. The problem was he hadn't done so in a very long time, so his worst fear was to Apparate somewhere completely different. Or even worse, maybe he wouldn't be able to Apparate with his whole body and he'd be split in two.
Soon he realized his fears were unjustified. As his Apparating instructor had said back in the day he'd passed his examination, Apparating was like riding a broom: you never forgot what it was like.
When he entered the dark inn, he was shocked to realise he hadn't been there in years. After getting out of Azkaban he hadn't been in the mood of going to public places, especially the ones he remembered the most from his first youth years. Naturally, the Leaky Cauldron had been the first place he'd tried to avoid. Too many people who might have recognized him, too many memories. He remembered spending entire afternoons there, with Remus, James and Lily, and...
Sirius shook his head. He'd sworn that name would never be pronounced by him ever again.
He couldn't stop feeling amazed at the little change the inn had experienced. In fact, he found that everything looked just like he remembered it.
'Mr.Black,' a hushed whisper came from his side. Sirius turned to look at the speaker and found himself face to face with the inn's owner, who'd lost another couple of teeth since the last time he'd seen him. 'Professor Dumbledore is waiting.'
Sirius followed Tom to one of the private chambers, trying his best to ignore the curious glances thrown in his direction and the hushed whispers behind his back.
As soon as he got into the chamber Tom hurried to leave them alone, carefully closing the door on his way out. Once the bartender was out of his sight, Sirius turned to face the headmaster...and with just one quick look at his expression he knew Dumbledore didn't have good news. And effectively, he hadn't.
'It seems that, in spite of all my efforts, Bertha hasn't been able to keep her mouth shut.' Dumbledore couldn't show enough signs of his annoyance. 'Arthur Weasley has told me he heard her commenting to some of her co-workers that she'd seen the Boy-Who-Lived in Surrey.'
Sirius cursed under his breath. Dumbledore ignored him.
'Arthur, as many others, thought she was lying. But from what you've told me, as well as other sources I have, I'm afraid many others didn't.'
Dumbledore sighed. Sirius waited him to continue, but several minutes had to pass before the old man did so.
'Sirius,' he began to say, in a tone that announced nothing good, 'I'm afraid that Harry cannot continue living where he is now. It is far too dangerous.' Dumbledore took a deep breath. 'He must be relocated.'
The younger man's mouth fell open. From all the things he'd expected, this was the last one. After he'd been taking care of Harry for a year, Dumbledore was going to take the child away from him! It was preposterous!
He opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore spoke before he could do so:
'Look, Sirius, the situation is much more serious than you think. Last week there was a major attack on Muggles, and we have good reasons to believe it was perpetrated by former Death Eaters. If our suppositions are right, then this is the most evident sign of activity of the supposedly retired Death Eaters since what happened to the Longbottoms. And that's not all.' Dumbledore's face sombered. 'It seems that not only Bertha's co-workers heard her gossip, as that day there was someone else at the Ministry of Magic. That person was none other than Lucius Malfoy.'
This time, Sirius didn't bother to lower his voice when he cursed. He remembered his cousin's husband well enough to know that, no matter what the Minister believed, he was as into the Dark Arts as he'd been the first day he'd joined Voldemort.
'I'm afraid, Sirius, that we'll have to find a new accomodation for you and Harry as soon as possible.'
Sirius blinked. Wait a moment, so that meant...
'You're not taking Harry away from me?'
Dumbledore looked puzzled.
'Why would I do that? You have been nothing but an excellent father to Harry all this time. Now, go back to Arabella's, and get some rest. Probably you'll have to move out tomorrow, or as soon as we find a suitable place.'
However, their plans had to be changed. That very same night Sirius realised they no longer had time left.
In the front door of the house Sirius shared with Harry, they found a painting. It consisted of two linked figures, which reminded Harry of Jamal's older brother's tattoo. He thought the drawing was weird and that it seemed to have been made by someone who clearly wasn't very skilled at it, but he certainly didn't find it as scary as his godfather did. Sirius' face paled as soon as he saw the drawing, as he knew it too well.
That very same night Sirius and Harry had to pack all their stuff and leave the house, escorted by Mad-Eye Moody and another Auror, none of them knowing where they were headed.
Before they left, though, Sirius took especial care in magically erasing the drawing of a snake inside a skull that had appeared on his front door.
Jesse: It's kind of funny to imagine Snape getting all parental, isn't it? Well, at least it amuses me. About the fic, well, yeah, my idea is to continue writing through their years at Hogwarts. Actually, in Chapter 18 Connor gets his Hogwarts letter and gets off to school, and I'm planning to write what happens with the other characters (Sirius, Snape, Spike, Darla and Connor) while Harry's facing his famous adventures. So don't worry, you still got loads to read if you want to!
Luna Moonlight Fawn: I found it kind of hilarious, too, the way Snape thinks it's easier to lie to Voldemort than lying to Connor. I'm happy that you've found it funny too! About primmary school, I don't know for sure, but it's the way it's spelled in Britain, and the English I've learnt at school is British, so I think I'll stick to it. Have a nice summer!
Sadiler: Wow, thank you for all your complimments! Really, you've made up my day. Thanks!