Family Secrets

"Leave it, Blue. Go on." I tossed commands at the dogs like I didn't have a formerly-wanted, supposed-to-be-dead wizard in my cabin. I steered sled after sled of tourists up and down the trails as they shot photographs that would come out blurry from the jarring ride.

"Hold, team," I barked. And here we were again, back at the store front for the final load of cruise ship customers to scurry off for the dock. I posed for another photograph in the idiotic dress with a sullen teenager and two of the dogs.

I unhitched the team and sent them to an exercise pen while I took the last reservations of the day and closed the shop. With the shades drawn I tore off the vest thing and the skirt, yanked on some pants, and pulled on a huge sweater I'd stolen from an ex-boyfriend. The sweater was the best thing about him, I thought, grinning at my own wit.

"Men," I snarled to myself, thinking of Sirius Black. Yes, that's the supposedly-dead, newly-pardoned wizard in my cabin. That's the man who's going to knock me out of Alaska and into London this weekend. He'd promised to care for the dogs in my absence, fend off any representatives of the cruise ships, and basically make the whole trip seem like I'd gone to visit my grandmother. In exchange for this huge favor, he'd promised not to tell the entire town I'm a witch.

Perhaps you're thinking: witch? Like they'd believe that. Well they would. That's why my mother doesn't live out here anymore, and that's why my father doesn't either. In fact, that's part of why I live so far outside town. It's also part of why the town I chose to live near is a tourist town full of people who don't stay long. I don't like that memory—the memory of people finding out my mother was a witch, that is—and I don't have anything more to say about it.

I finished shoving my things into my backpack and walked out the front of the shop to lock it. Brooks, the bartender, was walking down the center of the road toward the bar. "Going to come have a beer, Dempsey?" He called.

"Sorry, man," I demurred. "Got to go see if Black burned the cabin down."

"Nice of you to take that guy in," Brooks said, his voice dropping to a conversation level as we met in the street. "I thought you two were going to brawl when he started talking to you at first." Brooks smiled.

"Nah," I shook my head. "He's annoying, but he kind of reminds me of my dad."

"He was English, right?" Brooks asked.

"Dad never said it that way," I evaded. "He always said he was from the UK. I think it was one of those old political things, kind of like home rule in Ireland, you know? I didn't pay much attention in that part of history class, though."

"I hear that." Brooks laughed. "Well, work's waiting for me."

"Dogs are waiting for me," I agreed. "Later, man." He tossed a wave over his shoulder as he continued down the street. I was getting better at delivering the lie. Black had been at my cabin for nearly a month. And while he was good at taking care of the dogs, being partly dog himself, he was a walking invasion of my space. I kicked a toe in the dirt as I headed around the back to free the dogs from the pen. As I started walking up the path with the herd of dogs I forced myself to pay attention to the clear cut line, to watch for bears, and to stop being sore at Black.

"You have everything," Black said again, his unusual eyes narrowed at me. I gulped back the urge to tease him for being such a nag.

"I've got it." I confirmed. And I did. I had a packet of papers shrunk and concealed in my old clothes—ones I hadn't worn since school—that I'd wear to apparate to Juneau before starting the long trip to London.

"Right," he confirmed, his voice tight. He'd started pacing a pattern in the dog enclosure where we stood. I pushed my hands deeper into my robe pockets and looked at him intently.

"Look, Black," I began. I wanted to tell him he'd be all right, or something, but I didn't know that at all. And I wasn't going to lie to him. I'd started to kind of like him. "I'll get it done. I'll do it and come back here, and you'll know what has to happen next, right? Even if it doesn't come out like you want, you'll have a plan."

"And you'll never see me again," he said teasingly, his face again creased with a mocking smile. I wasn't convinced, entirely, but I played along.

"Exactly," I said smartly, gesturing at him. One of the team dogs wandered close to me and I ran my fingers through her fur as she passed. He stared out toward the tree line, his face flat. An unfamiliar pressure rested in my chest. "And if it doesn't, you know…" I trailed off as he turned to face me again. He looked at me keenly. "If it doesn't go like you think, I mean, with the people I'm supposed to find…"

"Right," he nodded.

"I mean, you're pretty good with the dogs. You won't have to just…" I trailed off again, flinging my hands away from my sides. "You won't have to take your chances with the bears, you know?"

He nodded toward me, his face momentarily serious. Then he changed into dog form and loped off to the opposite edge of the enclosure to find Delphine. I walked out of the pen, shut the gate, and apparated to Juneau for the first time in five years.

When I arrived in London I was utterly drained. The trip had pitched my body through enough curves to make me wonder if I'd ever voluntarily eat again. I cast my eyes around the international arrivals platform, internally begging Black's instructions to be correct. I knew I was looking for a sign indicating directions to Diagon Alley. From there, I knew I needed the Leaky Cauldron pub, and a bed. I straightened my shoulders, took in a deep breath, and stepped farther toward the crowd.

After nearly a full circuit of the arrivals area I found the sign Black had described. I followed the directions to Diagon Alley and got to the inn without further bouts of confusion, not counting a long interval spent staring in the windows of an owl post office. Juneau had an owlery, but it was nothing like that. Once I'd secured a room in the Leaky Cauldron I collapsed there, too tired even to consult the pages of notes in my pockets.

When I woke the street outside was filled with people wandering back and forth. It was like the confusion of the wizarding streets at home, but magnified. I stared out the window a while, impressed with the sheer number of wizards and witches walking the streets. Alaska simply didn't have that many—not even in the whole state.

At length I shook off the slack-jawed stupefaction and started to pull the notes from my pockets. I left the papers Black wanted me to give to his friends in shrunken form and returned his directions to their proper size.

"All right, Black," I muttered to myself, "I'm here. What now?" I pulled out a paper with a sketched map of streets on one side and a series of instructions on the other. "Lupin, Weasley, Granger, Potter, Tonks…" I read the list of possible contacts. "Like wizards keep phone books, Black. Come on." I groused, frustrated.

I flipped the page over. On it were a complicated series of instructions that would land me outside a house I wouldn't be able to see at first. In there, Black hoped, would be several people who wanted to hear from him. I was not to approach the area if I saw any evidence of "battle."

"Battle?" I muttered to myself, incredulous. "What are you getting me into?"

I'll just mention again how much I like reviews, and how much they help me, shall I?