A/N: A bit of a longer chapter than the last one. This one was fun to write. Think the next two will be, too. Actually, after chapter 6, I'm not quite sure how I'm going to proceed and still keep things intresting. I can probably get away with maybe two duller chapters with some gratuitous Harry-Sirius and Harry-Remus bonding. So that's four more chapters. After that, I'm not sure if I'll introduce a plot (have a couple possibilities in mind) or just end it. We shall see.
Anyway, to answer you, Mud, it's not a matter of not telling Harry about magic. It's just that Sirius assumes that Harry knows about magic. To Sirius, who's come from a pureblood family, air, gravity, the sun rising tomorrow, magic, it's all the same. He recognizes that that's not the case for Muggles, but Harry isn't a Muggle. Also, it's implied in PoA that Sirius doesn't know how much Harry hates the Dursleys, so I'm figuring that, for the reasons previously noted, it doesn't occur to him that they could have told him magic doesn't exist, much less that they would. Remus figures it out slightly before Sirius, mostly because he's a halfblood, and therefore understands that magic doesn't have to be there, even for a wizard. That's not to say that Sirius is particularly slow on the uptake, but it is definitely more of a shock to him.
As to the swearing, Strega, I think I might have to up the rating solely because of Sirius's dialogue. I realized I'd probably have to with the original version of chap. 3. I don't think Sirius, either before Azkaban or after, would have any real inhibitions about his language. I realize that Rowling keeps it pretty PG, but I have a lot of trouble writing Sirius with nothing stronger than a "damn" or "hell," whether in front of children or not. I don't see him as being someone who's offended by language or thinks that everything needs to be censored where minors are concerned. As to Remus…you make a good point, and I've been debating his reaction for some time. I think, though, that he'd realize there's no point in admonishing Sirius when he's really pissed off. I expect he'd say something about it later, when Sirius is in a mood to listen.
:does her best Michigan J. Frog, tophat and can and all: Hello my honey, hello my darlin'…
And thank you to everyone else who reviewed and will review. I'm aiming for 8 reviews for this chapter. Think I can make it?
And concrit is always lovely.
Chap. 4
If Harry had the powers of contemplation as the front door slammed behind him, he would have reflected on the fact that running was an abysmally stupid thing to do.
As it was, he hardly noticed the woods or the rain or the rocky ground beneath his bare feet. He clutched the pound notes in both hands, fueled by the shouts and pounding of shoe soles behind him. With instincts honed after years of evading Dudley, Harry dodged left just as one of the adults—it didn't matter which—made a grab from him. He left the narrow footpath he'd been following and wove through the trees. Branches snagged at the thin and baggy pajamas, but he paid them no mind.
Only when he fell over a stone and found himself unable to get back up did he really feel the pain in his feet. He'd registered an ache, but as he lay in the mud, the stinging and throbbing made standing impossible. In fact, it made his throat close up and his eyes tear with the intensity.
The two men descended then, both kneeling and speaking, but neither touching him for the first moment. Harry held the money to his chest, curled around it, and shivered under the thick drops of rain shed by the trees above.
"Harry?" Sirius asked, his voice hoarse, panicked. "Are you all right?"
Harry thought that this was a very strange question, all things considered. He flinched when a hand touched his arm.
"It's all right," Sirius continued. "I mean, whatever it is, it's all right. Look, the money doesn't matter. You can keep it. And more. As much as you want; I've got loads. The money's not important."
Harry didn't relax; the money was the most important thing in the world in that moment. It gave him an autonomy he'd never had before. And he didn't believe Sirius.
"Harry," Remus said, sounding so much calmer. "If we give you our word that we won't take the money again, will you come back up to the house? You can't stay out in the rain with your feet in shreds. We'll take you inside, get you dry and clean and take care of your feet. A potion or two, a couple of quick spells, you'll be as good as new. We won't touch the money again. Will you come?"
Harry shook his head.
Sirius murmured something about levitation, and Remus replied that that was something Sirius's parents would do. Sirius said that this was completely different, but then a very long silence followed.
Harry wondered if he could make a break for it again, but one slight twitch of his left foot told him not to even try.
"Harry, I'm going to pick you up now," Sirius said. "And I'm going to take you up to the cottage. Keep a tight hold of that money; don't drop it."
Long, bony arms scooped up the nine-year-old, who didn't offer much resistance. Standing was jerky, and the first few steps wobbled, but Sirius picked up momentum. It only took a minute or so to get back to the house; Harry had only run fifty or sixty meters down the hill, but Sirius's arms had started to shake badly by the time they stepped inside.
Harry found himself set in a wingback chair. He got a look at Sirius's face for the first time since he'd run; his gray eyes were wide, scanning over Harry, his fingers checking the tears in the pajamas for blood.
"Moony's gone to get his potions. We'll have you patched up in no time."
Harry just held to his wad of bills and watched dirty blood drip from his heels, thinking that "potions" was a strange thing to call peroxide.
Remus came in a moment later, carrying two strange-looking glass bottles, one green and one a dark red, a bowl, and a couple of white cloths. Sirius moved out of his way so he could kneel by Harry's feet, where he poured the contents of the green bottle into the bowl. The liquid, a creamy offwhite, swirled and steamed, but Harry felt not heat from it as Remus guided his feet down with a surprising gentleness. Aunt Petunia had never been rough with his skinned knees when he was littler, but she'd been mechanical about swabbing the torn skin and applying the bandages, not at all like the cooing and kissing that she'd bestowed on Dudley. Not that Remus cooed or kissed. He just treated Harry's wounds with an unfamiliar care, every touch as soft and slow as he could manage.
"This might sting a little, but the potion will ease the pain and stop the bleeding," Remus said.
Sirius stood to pace.
"Are you cold?" Remus asked Harry.
Before Harry could answer, Sirius had knelt to stoke the fire, adding kindling and blowing on the orange embers.
The liquid in the bowl touched Harry's feet, and it felt much colder than he would have thought. He shivered. But a moment later, the soles of his feet began to feel warm and tingly. The steady ache receded. He realized for the first time that he'd clenched his jaw and relaxed it.
Remus pulled his feet up from the now-pink liquid and gently dabbed them clean with one of the cloths. It still stung, but not too badly, and the concerned glances Sirius thre over his shoulder every other moment distracted the boy.
"Now, this potion closes the wounds," Remus said, picking up a clean cloth and wetting it with the pale green liquid from the red bottle. He took hold of Harry's left ankle, but paused before doing anything. "This part is going to hurt more. Are you ready?"
Harry nodded. But he winced when the cloth irritated his sole. His fingers clenched around the pound notes, but they were small and unyielding. It occurred to him that they weren't very useful at all in that cottage, and maybe that was why they'd let him keep them—for now. As Remus touched a particularly tender spot in the arch of the foot, Harry tried not to gasp aloud. He remembered Sirius saying something about having loads of money, but one glance around the living room implied something completely different.
"Hey, Harry?" Sirius said rather suddenly. "I bet your aunt didn't tell you about the first time your mum agreed to go out on a date with your dad."
Harry had hardly shaken his head once before Sirius launched into a wild tale, the sort Uncle Vernon would have shouted about and Aunt Petunia would have sniffed at, about his parents and some sort of castle and a giant squid and something about flying broomsticks and something called a Beak Binding Curse, that apparently his mum threw about liberally, and usually at his dad. Sirius threw himself about the living room behind Remus, doing voices waving his long limbs in reenactments of different events. Harry had never seen a grown-up act like that. Well, maybe on TV, but only on those noisy programs Uncle Vernon harumphed before changing the channel with extra conviction. But this was one of the funniest things Harry had ever seen, even though he didn't have much idea at all what Sirius was talking about. He wondered briefly why his aunt and uncle hated make-believe stories so much; this one was so much fun.
By the time Harry thought to look at his feet again, after Sirius had run out of breath and flopped into another chair, Remus was nearly finished with the right one.
Harry frowned when Remus pulled out a long, narrow stick. Was he going to rap his feet as punishment?
He tried to pull his feet, up, but Remus held fast.
"This part won't hurt at all, and then I'll be done. Just a few more minutes."
Harry found his wad of money, having set it down in his lap sometime during Sirius's story, and clutched it tight; he didn't feel very fortified.
Remus gestured with the stick and muttered something in another language, and Harry felt his eyes go wide as the half-healed cuts and scraps on his foot shrank up into pale, pink lines of newly formed skin.
He looked up at Remus, and asked before he could stop himself, "How'd you do that?"
Remus gave him an odd look, but obliged, saying, "It's an easy enough spell, OWL level magic."
"But…there's no such thing as magic?" Harry asked, feeling quite unsure of the fact.
The question had hardly left his mouth when Sirius leapt to his feet, very suddenly full of furious energy. "WHAT?"