AN: I do not own Harry Potter, that honor goes to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 1 - A Sirius Conversation
A hollow boom shook the entire house, making the sparse decorations on Bill Weasley's worn dresser crash to the floor. The Burrow, already precariously build, seemed to sway in the wake of the blast. Through the open window, the sound of tortured wooden timbers creaked and cracked resounded around the room. Hedwig, a beautiful white owl, hooted in indignation as she took flight. The muffled sounds of yelling came from somewhere downstairs, and thundering footsteps came from overhead.
Harry James Potter looked up from his book and peered at the door. He knew what caused the explosion and hoped the twins wouldn't kill themselves one day with their experimentation. For the last three days running, Fred and George Weasley disrupted the general quiet of the house with their failed experiments using gunpowder. Their mother, Molly Weasely, fed up with their antics, searched their entire room, from ceiling to floor. She'd used magic to open every drawer, removed every piece of furniture, and even vanished the floorboards. Mrs. Weasley found a few items she deemed contraband, but she couldn't find the twin's stash of gunpowder. Even Harry didn't know where they kept their considerable supply of ingredients for mischief-making.
A thump on the door was the only warning he had before Ron Weasley opened the battered door to his borrowed bedroom. "They'll be strung up by their toenails this time," the tall, muscular redheaded youth announced with a broad grin. "I can't wait!"
Harry eyed his friend with a mixture of exasperation and resignation. Ron didn't understand the concept of personal time or space. If he wanted to bother you, no matter where you were, he would barge in to ask his question. Harry had to threaten Ron with a Banishment Charm one morning when Ron walked into the bathroom while he was taking a shower to ask if Harry wanted to play Quidditch.
"At least it wasn't in the middle of the night this time," Harry commented with a snort.
"Where do you think they are keeping all of their gunpowder?" Ron asked before breaking off, his eyes falling on Harry's trunk. He shot Harry a raised eyebrow.
"Not with me," Harry answered with a laugh. "My bet is either Ginny is in on it or they've mastered the Vanishing Spell and keep a trunk full of their stuff hidden. Maybe both," he mused. Ginny was acting odd ever since they got back to the Burrow three days previously.
"Do you at least know what they are working on? Mum couldn't even find what exploded."
Harry fought to suppress a grin. "It did rather sound like fireworks going off," he commented with what he hoped was a casual roll of his shoulder.
"You know something," Ron accused with a glare. "Fine, you three keep your secrets. Mum won't touch a hair on your head no matter what you do," he groused. His slumped shoulders straightened as his eyes blazed with a manic light. "Nevermind the twins, Harry are you ready to come up to the orchard?"
Harry suppressed a sigh. "Ron, you know I don't want to try out for the team, right?" he asked, his green eyes intent on his friend's blue ones. He'd hoped his friend would stop bothering him about joining the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. While he loved to fly, he didn't want to commit to something that would interfere with his plans. His eyes fell to the page he was reading. Durmstrang Institute, located somewhere in Europe, might not accept a transfer from Hogwarts.
"Come on, mate. It would be amazing. You and Hermione already know more magic than the twins and they just sat their Ordinary Wizarding Levels. You already know the team," Ron tempted with a boyish grin.
"Assuming your mum doesn't hang the twins, we'll play some after lunch." If he ignored Ron's insistence that he try out for the team, then his friend might forget about it. It was a slim chance at best.
"Yes!" Ron hissed and pumped his fist. "I'll leave you to your reading then," he said and left the room, leaving the door open.
Harry sighed and eyed the door with irritation. He didn't want to get out of bed if he didn't have to. Peering over the side of the bed to ensure the coast was clear, he heard Mrs. Weasley yelling at the twins from somewhere upstairs. With a grin, he focused his magic into a tendril of power and extended his hand. He slashed his hand to the right and released the spell with a murmur. A pulse of magic tingled his numb fingers as the door swung shut of its own accord. Pleased with himself, he settled back into the bed and wiggled down into the blankets supporting his back.
Hedwig flew back into the open window and hooted at Harry. "Welcome back," he greeted and stretched a scarred hand out, his index finger curved, to pet the beautiful owl's neck. Hedwig hooted at him again and leaned into his attentions. "I wonder if Edward Tonks will write back. It would be a great birthday present to have him help Hermione." Hedwig was the only one he could talk to about his hopes and feelings without worrying about being judged.
Hedwig cocked her head to the side and fluttered her wide wings once. "I'll take that as a maybe," Harry said with a snort. He continued to pet her as his mind turned to the future.
"Harry, are you ready?" Ron asked as the door opened again around noon.
Rolling his eyes, Harry clambered out of bed. "Yeah, let me get on some clothes that I can get dirty in. What did your mum do with the twins?" he asked as he opened his trunk. He became aware of another redhead waiting in the hall, her cheeks flushed. "Afternoon, Ginny," he greeted.
"Hey, Harry," Ginevra Weasley greeted with an awkward wave. The beautiful youngest Weasley's bright brown eyes locked with his before she looked away. She looked unsure if she could enter the bedroom or not and hovered just outside the door.
"Why aren't you dressed yet?" Ron complained as he shifted back and forth on his feet. "You're getting as bad as Hermione! Look at that tome. You could fit two of our coursebooks in it and still have enough room to dance a jig in the extra pages."
Harry eyed Ron and snorted. "You exaggerate," he muttered. "Do you mind?" he asked as he pulled out his workout clothes. Ginny giggled and disappeared from the doorway.
"Just don't forget your broom," Ron called over his shoulder as he left the room, once again forgetting to close the door.
"Yeah, I'll just spread my arms out and fly around the orchard," Harry called back as he closed the door.
Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen when he came downstairs. The plump matriarch of the Weasley family gave him a speculative look as her eye roamed over his attire and boomstick in his hand. A strained smile creased her lips as she turned her attention to Fred and George sitting at the long table, polished to a shine. The twins held a spoon in one hand and a potato in the other. Fred, or George, had a look of immense concentration on his face as he peeled away a sliver of the potato skin with the edge of the spoon. The other twin shot Harry a wink before he returned his attention to peeling the potato in his hand.
Harry paused to watch, struck by an idea. He glanced at Mrs. Weasley, who had her back to him, and focused his attention on the potato in the closest twin's hand. Trying to suppress a grin, he focused his magic on the vegetable and concentrated his will and intent. With a wave of his hand, a large piece of the skin peeled away as if by magic. Fred and George froze in the efforts and looked up at Harry with identical looks of wonder. Their faces split into wide grins before they looked back down at the potatoes in their hands, their eyes glowing with excitement.
Satisfied with his display, Harry grinned at them before leaving the comfortable kitchen through the front door. Ron and Ginny waited on the path, each clutching a broom. "What took you so long?" Ron demanded before shaking his head, not waiting for a response. He trotted up the path toward the orchard. Ginny gave her brother a wry look before grinning at Harry.
"What were you working on?" she questioned as they moved to catch up with Ron.
"An assignment from Professor Vector," he answered with a grimace. "Substantive Magical Theory makes my head hurt. Useful but complicated. How do you assign a value for something as ambiguous as Magical Force? Magical Power, sure I could understand. It's like concentration for Transfiguration, but Magical Force? Even the book doesn't explain it in words I can understand."
Ginny gave him a sideways glance. "I'm going to smile and nod until you start speaking like a regular person," she joked with a smirk.
"Right, so, you can take..." he started to explain, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, Merlin's pants, but I don't need a lecture on substantive whatever. Let's just go have fun and fly around. Maybe after you understand it yourself, then you can explain it all to me," she stated in a soft tone.
Harry smiled as they walked in companionable silence toward the orchard. He looked over the manicured lawn, well-kept vegetable garden by the garage, and pruned bushes. Dobby, his house-elf, loved his job. When he arrived back at the Burrow for the summer, he'd noticed the lack of upkeep Mrs. Weasley maintained in the house and yard, but one day later, everything seemed to be pristine again. Harry enjoyed the ripe tomatoes and potatoes Mrs. Weasley grew. He just hoped Dobby didn't mind the extra work.
"I heard Mum talking to Dad about the Ford Anglia," Ginny said in a low voice as they passed the garage. They heard the tell-tale sounds of banging and muttered curses from inside the thin boards of the garage. "I think she wants him to get rid of it."
Harry snorted and shot her a grin. "Mr. Weasley will just find something else Muggle to fiddle with. She might as well accept something useful like a car. I think there are parts of an old motorcycle in the corner of the garage. He might start enchanting that next," he mused with a grin.
"Dad would do something like that," Ginny muttered under her breath and glared at the garage. "Come on, Ron looks impatient."
Indeed, Ron wore a put-upon expression as he stared at them from the open fence gate to the orchard. Tall, solid apple trees with thick foliage covered the back half of the property. A wide path led to a massive clearing the Weasley family used to play Quidditch in, away from the eyes of any Muggles. "You took your time," Ron complained. "Come on! We're wasting time before Mum comes to give us chores to do."
Harry mounted his broom and kicked off the ground. The familiar giddy feeling of adrenaline rushed through his body. He flew high, keeping just below the tops of the trees. Before he passed the top of the trees, he performed a loop in the air before rocketing toward the ground at a break-neck speed. Pulling up out of his dive just before he hit the ground, he flew upward and barrel-rolled to bleed off his excitement.
"Why don't you want to join the team?" Ron asked a few minutes later once Harry had stopped his aerial acrobatics.
"Mate, you know how much I love learning magic. If I joined the team, it wouldn't be fair to the others. I'd want to study more than go to practice."
Ginny's old broom tried to veer off toward the house, which she had to fight to keep level. Arms taught and strained, she grinned over at Ron. "I'll take the empty slot. Then Harry can cheer for the team, and you still get a great player."
"But you're a witch!" Ron complained.
Harry winced when he saw a dangerous look flash across Ginny's brown eyes. "A witch, am I?" Ginny said in a low, threatening voice.
"Yeah!" Ron answered with a judicious nod.
Ginny turned her broom and rocketed toward her brother, clipping him as she passed. Ron never saw her elbow and took the full impact on his chest. With a strangled wheeze, the redheaded boy reeled back, one hand miraculously staying gripped to his broom, as he gasped for breath. Harry hovered nearby, to make sure his friend didn't fall off his broom. Ginny, looking pleased with herself, continued to fly around the orchard.
"Why?" Ron gasped when he'd regained his ability to speak.
"Because, you're a prat," Harry answered with a smirk. "Good thinking, holding onto the broom like that. It's a ten or more foot drop to the ground."
Ron glared at Harry as he rubbed his chest. A mulish expression crossed his face as he bent low on his broom and rocketed off after his little sister. Harry sighed and waited out the two Weasley's antics. Ginny managed to keep just out of Ron's reach with surprising skill. Harry had no trouble seeing the young witch dominating the pitch as a Chaser. He knew if she'd been on his broom, Ron wouldn't even have a chance. Ron thought in straight lines and was good at heading her off with planned attack routes, but Ginny always seemed to get out of the way in just the nick of time.
It took fifteen minutes before the two Weasleys were tired of their impromptu air battle. Huffing and puffing, Ron landed on the ground and cursed his sister. Ginny, her eyes wide and her long red hair windswept, laughed at him. Her chest heaved from the physical and mental exertion of their confrontation.
"You've been practicing!" Ron accused with a sour expression.
"I haven't been able to for months, the Dementors, remember?" Ginny shot back and stuck out her tongue.
Harry sat on his broom and watched the two argue, enjoying the pleasant, rain-free day. After another five minutes passed, Ron seemed to remember Harry was still there.
"Tell her, Harry. She shouldn't be on the team!"
"Yeah, tell me, Harry!" Ginny demanded, the look in her eye promising pain beyond measure if he agreed with Ron.
"I think, you both need to calm down," Harry answered in an even tone. "Anyway, she'd make a great Chaser, Ron. When she gets older," he finished with a smirk. Ron and Ginny glowered at him. While Ginny was tall for her age, she still didn't have the physical mass necessary to replace the current Gryffindor Chasers.
"You would agree with her," Ron grumbled. "Anyway, let's get some training done. I noticed you've been slacking off your physical exercises."
Harry smirked and tried not to laugh. Ron sounded like he did in their second year. "Let's," he agreed before flying lower to the ground.
Covered in sweat, the three of them tramped back up to the house two hours later. The fast-rolling dark clouds meant their time outside would come to an end soon. Mrs. Weasley stood, hands on her hips, as she glared at an innocent look on the twin's faces. "If you ever try to blow up the house again, I will separate the two of you and ground you for the rest of the summer!" she promised in a loud voice.
The twins, looking chastised, nodded their heads in unison. "They will still experiment," Ginny said in a whisper only Harry and Ron could hear.
Harry didn't move when Mrs. Weasley's head turned toward them. The look in the irate witch's eyes worried him. Instructor Jason Elliot from Providence, his old Muggle school, always said the most dangerous thing they would ever face is an angry woman. Bullets and bombs were nothing compared to an upset housewife. Harry finally thought he understood what the instructor was trying to tell them.
"Welcome back, dears," Mrs. Weasley said in a crooning voice. Every bit of the anger she directed toward the twins seemed to disappear in an instant. Harry thought a line of ants crawled down his neck. "Take your showers and come back downstairs. We will have company," she continued, her eyes flicking to Harry for an instant.
Ron complained, but Harry was more than happy to jump to the task. Ginny shot her brother a withering look before she followed Harry deeper into the house. After his shower, Harry grabbed his book on Muggle Algebra and went downstairs. Master Ogata, his ex-mentor, suggested he read through the book he'd sent and solve the problems at the end of each chapter. He claimed the book would help Harry with his Transfiguration work if Harry could learn the skill to do the required math in his head quickly enough.
It took Ron the better part of an hour to come back downstairs. Mrs. Weasley, having set the twins to yet another pointless task to occupy their minds, was starting to cook a large dinner with Dobby's help. Dobby, a multitude of socks hanging from his tea towel uniform, flitted around the small kitchen with a bright smile. His large, yellow, tennis-ball-sized eyes, shown with a childish delight.
Percy Weasley appeared in the hallway, a look of anger creasing his face as he locked eyes with Harry. Tall, gangly, and flaming red-haired, Percy had a pinched face and always made sure to look his best. His ambition was to be the Minister of Magic one day. The adult wizard, who recently graduated from Hogwarts, had argued with his parents about leaving the house the night before. He claimed he couldn't live in the same house as a liar and cheat. Harry, aggravated by Percy's accusations, reminded him that the Ministry of Magic cleared his name of all charges. His arguments fell on the deaf ears of the annoying wizard.
"Mother, I'm off to Diagon Alley," Percy announced in his best, imperious voice. A second later he Disapparated with a loud crack.
"I hope he comes back for dinner," Mrs. Weasley muttered to herself before going back to stirring one of the three large pots on the stove.
"He'll come back," Fred commented with a smirk. "Even the Great Percy Weasley gets hungry... and it's not like he has any money yet."
"He will soon," Mrs. Weasley commented in a distracted voice. "He starts with the Ministry in three weeks."
"Percy with power," George commented with a shudder that wracked his entire body. "I'd rather see You-Know-Who walk through the front door."
"George Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley yelled as she spun around, her spatula flinging droplets of sauce across the room. "I will not have you say that name in my home, nor will I allow you to speak about your brother like that!"
Fred wiped his face where some of the red sauce had hit him and grimaced at his twin. George looked abashed. "Sorry, Mum," he apologized.
"Ron, dear, can you get the fine dishes out of the cabinet and set the table?" Mrs. Weasley asked with one last glare at the twins.
Ron grumbled and muttered to himself as he levered himself off the couch. He'd tried to get Harry to play wizard chess with him but was ignored. After his failed attempt with Harry, he tried to rile Ginny up. She gave him a dirty look before going back to her book on Charms. Grouchy and bored, Ron set about his task going as slow as possible. Mrs. Weasley gave him a level look but didn't comment.
Arthur Weasley, the patriarch of the Weasley family, appeared out of the green fire in the fireplace. One moment the brick-lined fireplace was empty except for the glowing ashes of three logs on its bracket and the next a roaring green flame engulfed the center of the hearth. Mr. Weasley, balding in the center of his head, waved to his children and hefted his pot-belly higher so his belt could settle back into place. He strode over to his wife and gave her a lingering kiss that drew groans from the Weasley children. "Molly," he said in a warm voice. He turned to the rest of the room and smiled. "Fred, George, you next?" he asked, his lips puckering as he made loud kissing noises.
Harry wasn't sure how it happened. He saw the twins sitting at the table before he blinked, but when he opened his eyes again, they were gone. The sound of thundering footsteps echoed around the kitchen as two pairs of feet thudded on the stairs. Mrs. Weasley did her best not to laugh. Ginny giggled and hid her face behind her book. Ron stood frozen by the end of the table, the plate in his hand hovering inches off the table. Mr. Weasley roared a laugh and turned back to his wife to talk in a low voice.
"Before the twins decide to escape through their window, I'll go get them," Mrs. Weasley announced with a smile playing at her lips. "Arthur, Percy is out. We'll have a place set for him when he gets back," she said as her smile faded.
"It'll just be two, not three like we thought," Mr. Weasley announced and turned to the Weasley children. "Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black will be joining us for dinner," he announced to shocked silence.
Harry blinked and looked between the two adults. When Mrs. Weasley had said company earlier, he thought it might have been some of the extended Weasley family dropping by. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wanted to throw Percy a party for graduating Hogwarts, but the young adult wanted to wait to see what he got on his Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests before they did anything.
Thirty minutes later, a knock came at the front door. Mrs. Weasley seemed to steel herself before walking across the kitchen and opening the door with a strained smile. She was dressed in her best clothes, a colorful summer dress, and long, deep-blue earrings. Albus Dumbledore, his long white beard reaching past his black belt, smiled at Mrs. Weasley. "Good evening, Molly," he greeted in his rich voice.
"Albus," Mrs. Weasley greeted, her strained smile becoming more natural. "Mr. Black," she greeted a moment later. "Come in, come in."
Mrs. Weasley stepped to the side and waved the two men into her home. Dumbledore, dressed in deep purple dress robes, smiled at everyone in the combined sitting room and kitchen. He strode over to the table as Mr. Weasley appeared in the small corridor leading further into the house. "Albus!" Arthur greeted and stuck out his hand.
Sirius Black, escaped convict of the wizarding prison Azkaban and Harry's godfather, stepped into the house with a boyish smile. His eyes roamed around the room until they settled on Harry. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said in a low voice. He was dressed in a brown dress robe that looked a little too big for him. His face still, gaunt from his time in prison, looked healthier than Harry remembered it. Lustrous, medium-length, black hair billowed out behind him as he turned his head to look at the matronly witch.
"Nonsense, you're Harry's godfather. You're welcome here any time," Molly said with a little warmth in her voice.
Harry had the feeling she didn't mean what she'd said, not really. Sirius had just been cleared by the Ministry of Magic for any wrongdoing and a public apology was released in the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, that Black was innocent of the crime that sent him to Azkaban. The wording in the article made it seem like it was all Albus Dumbledore's fault the scion of the Black family was imprisoned in the first place.
"You have a lovely home," Sirius commented as he looked around.
"Thank you," Mrs. Weasley replied with a genuine smile. "Have a seat. I'll be serving dinner here in a few minutes," she said and bustled over to the stove.
"Harry," Sirius said in a warm, friendly voice as he moved toward the table.
"Sirius, how are you doing?" Harry asked, rising from his chair and closing the book he'd been reading. He looked at the man who was supposed to be his godfather and wasn't sure how he felt. When he'd kidnapped Sirius to help him get away from the Ministry almost a year ago, he never expected the situation he faced now.
"Those crazy healers finally let me go," Sirius answered with a bark of a laugh. "They seemed to be more interested in studying the long-term effects of prolonged exposure to Dementors than they were trying to make sure I was sane and healthy."
Harry tried to smile, but he knew it was forced. "You got away at least. Did they give you your wand back, or are you going to get another?" he asked, looking over the wizard's brown robes for the tell-tale bulge of a wand.
Sirius' smile slipped a little. "They snapped my wand when they arrested me," he answered with a sigh. "It was a good wand, but I doubt it would work for me even if they'd kept it. The witch or wizard form a bond with their wand, as you probably know. I've changed so much over the last thirteen years that my wand probably wouldn't even recognize me or accept me again."
Harry nodded and tried not to grimace. If he'd been thinking, he would have realized the problem beforehand and wouldn't have asked the question. "Olivanders then?" he asked a moment later.
Sirius gave him a boyish grin and flicked his right hand. A short, gnarled wand with several large knots appeared between his long fingers. "Found my old holdout," he explained with a chuckle. "I can't believe they didn't confiscate my parent's place while I was in Azkaban. Good riddance to them, but my parents kicked the bucket and no one even came to tell me," he complained with a pained expression. Ginny gave him a weird look. "They were as close to Death Eaters as you can get without swearing to the git himself," he explained to the fiery young witch.
Ginny's eyebrows climbed up her forehead before she slowly nodded to him. Harry had heard some of how the Noble House of Black Family acted from Sirius when they'd talked before his trial. "So you'll use that wand then?" he asked, peering closer at the short wand.
"No," Sirius said with a grimace. "It has changed or I have. I can't put words to the feeling but the core, Dragon heartstring, feels darker. My parent's place felt off too. They probably took in some cursed artifact or something before they died. It'll take forever to get the place cleaned up before I can sell it. Anyway, the wand is still serviceable and I can use it, but I don't want to for very long. It's an instinctual feeling you'll pick up as you get older and get more experience with magic, but the wand feels too eager. A sure sign the wand favors the Dark Arts. That isn't uncommon for Dragon heartstrings as a core though."
Harry felt his face frown as he mulled over what Sirius explained to him. "So... because the wand is eager... it is more prone to performing Dark Arts?" he questioned in a halting voice. "I haven't read anything like that before."
"You wouldn't have," Dumbledore commented with a smile. "That is deep lore of wand making. Sirius, you should have told me if you weren't comfortable using the wand," he said in a soft voice. "We could have stopped by Diagon Alley hours ago."
"The wand itself isn't corrupt, Albus. I checked already. I'll be fine until tomorrow."
Harry puzzled over Sirius' words. "How could the wand become corrupted?" he asked as he looked between the two adults.
"We don't need to have a conversation about the Dark Arts before dinner!" Mrs. Weasley chided in an exasperated tone. "Come, take a seat everyone," she ordered and started ladling generous helpings of meat and potatoes onto a plate. She floated the plate over to the table where Mr. Weasley always sat.
Everyone ate and spoke in low voices over the excellent meal. Dumbledore told a joke or two, and Sirius tried to balance a garlic potato wedge on the tip of his tongue, much to the disgust of Mrs. Weasley and delight of the Weasley children. Harry wasn't sure what to think. Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore didn't inquire as to where Percy was, but it was clear, Mrs. Weasley was growing anxious when she kept glancing at the magical clock by the fireplace.
The large circular clock had nine long hands, each with the face of one of the Weasleys on it. The hands pointed to one of two dozen long, slender plates that read things like Traveling, Tea Time, Working, or You're Late. The hand with Percy's face on it was hovering over You're Late. The remaining two Weasley children, Bill and Charlie, both had their hands with their faces on them resting over Home. Harry wondered how the magic worked and made a mental note to look it up. It would be useful to keep track of both friends and enemies.
Mrs. Weasley used her wand to levitate the plates into the sink after everyone finished eating. The twins and Ron wandered over to the sitting room after their father muttered something into their ear. Ginny gave her mother a strange expression when they locked eyes. Harry knew the conversation must be important from the looks on the adult's faces.
"Harry, we'd like to talk to you about your summer," Mrs. Weasley announced as she took her place back at the table. Mr. Weasley looked uncomfortable, but Sirius smiled. Dumbledore watched on without giving any indication of his thoughts on his face or in his body language.
"Okay," Harry answered in a low voice. His eyes flicked to Sirius and back to Mrs. Weasley.
"As you're aware, Mr. Black is your Godfather," Molly began and grimaced at the pained look Sirius gave her. "Oh fine, Sirius, it is then," she allowed. "We'd like to hear what you want to do for the summer," she said in a soft voice.
"Mostly, I'd like to continue studying the massive list Professor McGonagall gave me and Hermione for the summer."
Sirius' smile slipped a little as he looked at Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to be in charge of the conversation. She gave him a little nod. "Harry, I'd like to talk to you about what we discussed back at Hogwarts, before my trial," he said after a moment. "I know your main focus is on learning magic, but there is a lot you don't know about our world. Things you can't learn from books. I'd like to show you magical Britain and other, like-minded communities in Europe." He must have seen something in Harry's expression because he went on in a rush. "Or, we could just work on the list of things you want to learn. I'm nowhere near as smart as Remus with every subject, but I am a deft hand at Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Dueling."
Harry started to say he was fine with staying at the Burrow, but something made him pause. If he could get away from Ron and the general commotion of the boisterous house, he might have more time to focus on the things he wanted to learn and do. A guilty feeling flashed across his mind when he realized how upset Ron and Mrs. Weasley would be if he went with Sirius. For the first time in his life, he realized he could make a choice about where he would lay his head at night. It was both scary and exhilarating.
"No matter what you decide, you are always welcome here," Mr. Weasley announced. "I'm sure Sirius wouldn't mind the Floo set up between our two houses, or where ever you find to live," he finished with a nod across the table. "One week, you could be off galavanting in France, and the next, you could be here. We'll always have a place for you."
Harry blinked rapidly so he wouldn't cry. He wasn't sure what or even why he was about to cry, but he was definitely sure he didn't want to. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley," he finally got out. "Do I have to decide now?" he asked after a moment to think.
"No, this is simply so we, as the adults in your life, can talk and get to know one another. Where you stay is completely up to you, and no one else," Dumbledore said with a pointed look at Sirius," will try to sway your decision."
Sirius shot Harry a mischievous grin that turned into a cough when the other adults looked at him. "No matter what, if you need something, I'll be there," he promised with unusual seriousness. "Here, all you have to do is speak my name into this, and I'll be able to see you," he said as he passed a small, thin mirror across the polished table to Harry.
Picking it up, Harry looked in the crystalline blue mirror with a silver border. "Sirius Black," he said and watched the distorted reflection in the mirror change and warp into a clear image of the ceiling above his head. The image in the mirror adjusted itself with a blur of motion and rested on Sirius' face. "Hello," the ex-convict greeted into the mirror. Harry heard two voices, one coming out of the mirror as if through water, and the other farther down the table, clear and loud. "Wicked," he muttered. "How does the magic work?"
Sirius barked a laugh and tucked his mirror away in his pocket. "You would ask that," he mused to himself. "I suppose it's a bit like the Divination Charm and the Sending Spell, but far more complex. Your dad, well your grandfather really, got us these mirrors so we could work together in school."
Dumbledore gave Sirius a level look. "And you used them to further your studies, I'm sure," he remarked in a dry tone.
Sirius had the good graces to look somewhat abashed. The look disappeared a moment later. "We did, actually... once or twice."
Mrs. Weasley looked between Harry and Sirius. She seemed conflicted. "Would anyone like pie?" she asked into the silence. It seemed to be her cue for the conversation to return to more familiar territory.
An hour later, after everyone had an excellent apple pie and vanilla ice cream, Dumbledore and Sirius thanked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for having them over. Sirius once again reminded Harry if he needed anything to use the mirror to contact him before he left.
Ginny kept giving Harry odd looks as the Weasley children settled in for the night. Fred and George told Harry that they'd go with Sirius if he didn't want to. The older wizard seemed to be a fountain of prank knowledge for them, and he was a founder of the Mauraders. The twins had an almost fanatical reverence for Sirius Black.
Ron asked Harry several times what he was going to do, evident discomfort etched on his face. It was clear he was afraid Harry would leave him alone for the summer. A year ago, Harry might have worried about disappointing his friend, but Ron's behavior during the last term had strained their friendship. It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's possible reactions that gave him pause. Sirius' child-like behavior and cavalier attitude were more factors in his hesitation.
That night, he lay in bed listening to the different sounds that accompanied nightfall. Hedwig, wide awake, hooted out of the window and turned to study Harry. "What do you think I should do?" he asked his owl. He wasn't looking for an answer but Hedwig cocked her head to the other side as if considering the question. She hooted once and spread her wing wide before settling down with a softer hoot.
"I'll take that to mean I should go then?" he mused and lay back against his propped-up pillows, the book in his lap long forgotten. Hedwig gave him a soft hoot before turning back to stare out of the window.
The next morning, Mrs. Weasley questioned Percy where he's been all night. The young adult looked pleased with himself when he announced he'd had dinner with a nice witch from the Ministry and Apparated back in his room just as Dumbledore left. To say Mrs. Weasley was upset was an understatement.
"I'm an adult now, Mother," Percy retorted, his tone petulant.
"You still live under this room, young man," Mrs. Weasley chided. Her eyes swept across the table to Arthur.
"Son, I remember when I was spreading my wings. It may chafe but your mother stayed up late waiting for you to come home. We didn't realize you'd Apparated into your room," Mr. Weasley said in a low voice. "We care about you."
Percy's back straightened as he looked between his parents. "I'm an adult!" he hissed in a low voice. "You won't have to worry about me in a few weeks. I'll have my own place," he stated with fierce pride.
"Yes, I helped you pick out that flat," Mr. Weasley answered in a calm, even tone. "Until then, please keep us in mind. We care about you, Percy."
Breakfast was a subdued affair as everyone got ready for the day. Ron woke up grumpy and snappish until Mrs. Weasley threatened to send him back to bed without breakfast until he learned some civility. The twins talked to one another in low, conspiratorial voices over the last bit of toast. Mrs. Weasley shot them exasperated glances but didn't comment.
