A/N: Heya everyone! It's been a week - *cough* half a year *cough* - since my last chapter and things are getting good. I've also changed my writing style a bit. Hope it feels lighter.
Betas: Please join me in thanking HonorverseFan and DJKopper for their outstanding beta work. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the HP universe or the mentioned brand names in this story, they belong to the appropriate entities that brought them into this world.
Cheers!
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Chapter 6: The Search for Hogwards
1st September 1994
Sirius watched Harry carry the things Celine had stored for him in the cellar across the living room to the garage a few times before the youngster disappeared with a car seat behind the corner and the thud of a door announced his disappearance.
With a swift swing of her wand, Celine recast the privacy charm around the room and pocketed the piece of wood in one fluid motion. Raising his gaze to her stern face, he prepared for the continuation of their previous conversation. Something he dreaded now.
"Dumbledore," she said. "What is it with that man that has you so easily convinced to do foolish things that could get you hurt? Or worse, hurt us?"
"Nothing will happen to Harry and you, nor will anything happen to me." He placated, showing his open palms in surrender.
"You don't know what this meeting will be about, Sirius. For all we know it might be a trap. Something these people have cooked up to get you alone."
"Don't be absurd, Celine. Malfoy and his lot may be the callous type but even they know when not to strike." He said with a shake of his head.
"I'm only supposed to attend and listen to what they have to say. They invited me because they want something I have." He explained, shaking his head at her. "Killing me wouldn't give them anything."
"They don't need you to get what they want," she snapped, her hair whipping around behind her. "Your family's support can be secured through other means."
Pondering her words, his eyes suddenly widened in realization. "Draco?"
"Yes," she nodded, her mouth a flat line of discomfort.
"Going to this," she gestured vaguely, "meeting is an idiotic idea."
Celine crossed her arms and began pacing in front of him again, her general demeanour still unhappy. She sniffed a few times in frustration before turning to him again, her hands lowered to her abdomen and her fingers touching.
"And if you go, they won't appreciate being led on, Sirius. Nott and Malfoy might leave you be when you decline their proposal, but Crabbe and Avery are unscrupulous when slighted." She reminded him with a throw of her hand. "I still don't see how any of this is a good idea. We could ignore them and carry on with our lives. What in Merlin's name were you thinking, agreeing to this?"
He knew she was right in her assessment. There was no need to put himself in harm's way over a favour to Dumbledore's plight with the contemporary political upheaval in the magical society of the British isles.
Closing his eyes, he lowered his head and rubbed at his forehead. Remembering why he had agreed to Dumbledore's pleas to help him gather information on the yet unknown group that was leading a youth revolution, he decided that it was time he explained his suspicions.
"There is something else I've not told you yet," he admitted aloud. "It's got to do with my recent visit to the Ministry."
She raised an interested eyebrow at that. "What do you mean?"
"Follow me," he urged suddenly, getting off the couch and walking up the stairs to his office. The heavy wooden door with ornate carving pulsed to life and opened upon his approach.
He waited inside until she was through the threshold and closed it, a second pulse emanating from the woodwork, signalling the activation of the privacy rune embedded in the walls. Walking toward his desk he pulled out a drawer and withdrew a booklet with three large blue letters printed on top.
FIA.
"This," he announced, waving the piece of literature at her, "is an accident report the muggle racing association produced on James and Lily's crash in '86. I was given this by Amelia when I went to see her. She had in fact asked to see me in person."
"Ok?" Celine replied with furrowed brows, her previous interest clouded by confusion. "What did she have to say?"
His jaw set into a tense position, grinding his teeth.
"I'll tell you in a moment but first," he handed the booklet over to her, "read this and I'll explain my reasoning for why I decided to help Dumbledore."
Intrigued by the secretive nature of his words, Celine let her hand palm the cover of the booklet. The relatively slim piece of literature felt dead to her, unlike most magical texts that housed a fragment of their creators' magic.
"What's so special about this muggle book?" she wondered aloud, the question not necessarily directed at him.
"What the report can't explain is what is special," he commented. "Open it to page 32 and start reading from the second to last paragraph."
Still unsure where this was going, she decided to indulge him and began flipping through the pages until she reached the aforementioned page number. Folding the booklet at the spine, she let her eyes travel to the specified line and began reading.
"Aloud, please," Sirius asked.
"The structural integrity of the vehicle was found to be flawed by design. Both A and B pillars have collapsed in a manner that was discovered to be unusual and completely outside the specifications registered by the manufacturer. Based on the force calculation of the crash site and the parameters of the incident, the finding is that the structural integrity of the chassis was weakened by subpar metal heating procedures which have caused the metal to have been brittle and unacceptable for certification. Tests on other cars of the same make and model have shown however that this was an anomaly and that a wider inspection was therefore found to be unnecessary."
After reading the excerpt Sirius had pointed out, Celine could do little other than frown at him with dissatisfaction.
"I don't understand what this means, Sirius."
He nodded briefly but encouraged her to continue reading.
With a shake of her head, she did. "Furthermore, seeking any legal actions against the automobile manufacturing company, Ford, is advised against based on further analysis of crash parameters. Despite the subpar construction of the crash vehicle, the investigation has yielded that the force of impact during the incident was found to be equivalent to approx. 150 miles per hour. It is further noted that such speed is virtually inconceivable at the location of the incident site, where the average speed of other competitors had been recorded to be approx. 60 miles per hour."
Dropping the booklet in her lap, she still didn't quite grasp what this meant.
"I still don't get it," she huffed, "What does this have to do with what Dumbledore has asked you to do?"
"It is everything, Celine," he stated while moving over to sit on his chair behind the desk, his hands dropping angrily on its surface.
"Lily was a quick driver but she wasn't that quick. Not on her best day."
She shrugged. "She was clearly going faster on that day and it got them…"
"Killed," he supplied.
"Yes."
"Or rather, murdered," he corrected.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Quite so," he reaffirmed. "Amelia believes that there was foul play."
"Amelia is a great many things, but she's not a muggle scientist who's perfectly familiar with muggle racing."
"It's not the muggle science that has her convinced," he replied confidently, his hands now crossed on the desk before him. "It's how it coincides with something she'd been told."
"Told?" she repeated with a frown. "What has she been told? And by whom?"
"A prisoner," he said curtly. "Someone who's been known to associate with Malfoy's group; A henchman of some sort, if the DMLE's reports are to be believed."
"A prisoner", she asked with little lustre. "A man on the way to Azkaban confessed to a crime that would see him rot in prison until his dying days?"
"The man admitted that the accident of James and Lily Potter was anything but. It was cold-blooded murder," he stressed, intent on convincing her with sheer enthusiasm.
"Please, tell me this isn't everything you've been told," she faux begged with a whine, massaging the bridge of her nose.
When he didn't reply, she turned her gaze to stare at him with daggers for eyes. "I hope that I do not need to explain to you what desperate people do? You were once a desperate person too, remember?"
"That's not the same, Celine," he disagreed with a sneer. "I was heartbroken and distraught then. It's not the same as going to Azkaban."
"Possibly," she agreed.
"Then why give me grief over this?"
"Because I don't want you lying in a pool of your own blood any time soon, you sentimental fool," she snapped again, the heat coming from her words, slamming against his cheek.
When he looked away from her, she scoffed a wet cough.
"Sirius," she tried.
"No. I'm not being…," he groaned at her lack of faith. "I'm not being sentimental, hoping to find a reason after eight years of accepting what had happened to our friends."
"Lily was an outstanding driver. She would never have made such a careless attempt. She knew her limits," he argued further, perhaps with himself.
"And what if it was her who used magic, hm?" Celine posited. "And not somebody else?"
"Remember what that Dutchman said?" she fumbled for the name. "Rick, Rick-something."
"Rikard," he supplied.
"Yes, that Rikard said that the pressure was tenfold of what had been usually the case," she recalled from clouded memory. "He'd said that she had all the confidence in the world that they'd succeed when it was virtually impossible to do so, in their situation. So what if she made up for the impossible with magic?"
"She would have never done that. You know that'' he lashed back accusingly, his head shaking harshly.
"How would you know?" she demanded. "How can you be certain that she hadn't? Nobody would have noticed it."
"No, no," he disagreed still, waving her argument away from him. "Lily was many things but she was never a cheater. She would have accepted defeat if it meant sticking to the rules."
"She would have never compromised on her principles like that," he pushed further. "If it had been James, yes. If it had been him at the wheel driving , then yes, the use of magic would have been a possibility, but her? NEVER!"
Shooting out of his chair, he paced before the numerous shelves filled with his family's old books lining them. It was something he'd often do to draw wisdom from them without ever reading them.
"Foul play is the only explanation," he uttered a lot calmer, almost like he'd never been upset, to begin with. "It has to be."
Coming to a stop, he came to a simple litmus test conclusion.
"If this turns out to be nothing," he began, "then a visit to Malfoy's will be the perfect opportunity to clear the matter for good."
"If however," he continued raising his hand to stop Celine from raising objections. "If I find a speck of truth to the prisoner's claims, then I sure as hell will make those damned slimy bastards pay."
His words hung heavy in the air, the weight dismissing any further argument.
Celine knew that when there was no stopping him, it was best to support him instead, and to catch his fall if he failed. It was better to bide your time and soften the blow than to fall hard together.
"Fine, then." She relented with heat in her voice, letting him know that he'd barely won.
"But you will not do anything foolish, do you hear me?" She warned him with a stern stare. A stare she did not need to use often. One that had served her well in her youth at Hogwarts.
"You go to that meeting, you ask your questions, make the necessary remarks and then cut your losses," she instructed. "If you take a step too far with these people, you won't be coming home."
Her strict expression then made way for her twitch of worry at the thought that harm may befall him "But, Merlin permit, come back in one piece."
His gaze softened at her final wet plea, giving her a deep kiss after having dropped to his knees before her and leant up to her face.
"I will, promise."
###
2nd September 1994
London, England
He walked along the busy sidewalk, as people rushed past him on their way to work, their faces stoic and generally uncaring of him. The people formed clusters around him due to the slim space of the cemented path separating the buildings from the street.
Harry was not one to venture far from Black Manor, his dislike for large crowds usually dissuading him from taking unnecessary strolls through the city of London. On this occasion he had no choice, he had a mission, a goal and a target fixated on the front of his mind.
He needed to find a place that sold telephone books with registered numbers all across the British isles.
The conversation he had secretly eavesdropped on having made mentions of the name of the school that sounded eerily similar to the school that Hermione had gone to attend just yesterday. Despite having already spent some time looking through books for any information on the school, he had remained unsuccessful. Either he'd gotten the spelling wrong or the place simply did not exist. And that was impossible because his friend had disappeared to said location.
What was especially unnerving, his de facto family had both attended the aforementioned school. While Hermione had let slip that Sirius had been an alumnus of the institution, the way that Celine had made mentions of her own experiences at the school, had unwittingly confirmed it.
What he really should have done then and there was ask them about it directly.
The only problem was, in all his time with the two of them, he had never heard them discuss the time of their youth. It was never really an issue and seemed a mundane matter altogether before. But since that conversation the night before, everything changed. He wanted to know more about them. More about this place called Hogwards.
For eight years he had never really questioned the integrity of his family's words and stories. Now the secretive nature in which the people in his life handled the mentions of this school piqued his unwitting interest.
And the easiest way to quench his curiosity was to ask the most trusted source of information he could think of – Hermione.
There was a problem, though. She had left the day before, to a place she had explained to be secret and cut-off from the rest of the world. 'A place to solely focus on your studying', she had explained to him.
Things like phone numbers and such were frowned upon at the education institute. An eccentric approach practised by the long line of educators that worked in it, if her words were to be believed.
And now he had begun to doubt the veracity of her reply. It was 1994, not the middle ages. He would be damned if he could not find at least some reference to the school somewhere.
Harry, lost in his inner monologue, almost didn't notice the red light for pedestrians, marching blindly onto the road. At the loud sound of a horn, he jumped and stumbled back to the side of the road, raising an apologetic hand to the angry driver.
Shaking his head, he reminded himself that London roads were no place to daydream and focused back on where he needed to go.
A few crossings and two turns and a jump over a small fence later, he reached his destination. His place of work, 'Bartholomew's Literary Corner'.
Opening the door and stepping inside the quiet but pleasant air of the store, he scanned the space for familiar faces.
His eyes fell on Mr Carlson, who leaned bent over a magazine, his attention unbroken by the jingle of the doorbell and thus did not raise his head to see who had come in.
Clearing his throat, the form of the prone man twitched, finally moving to straighten with the expectation to see a customer intending to purchase a book. Noticing the shorter form of Harry, the man let a mute scoff escape his bored face, his displeasure visible from the tired lines on it.
"Harry," Mr Carlson muttered confused, "I don't remember signing you up for a shift. You didn't have to come in today."
"I know," Harry replied with a nod. "I just came to check on something."
"Check on what?" The man asked curiously.
"Uhm, nothing much," Harry replied with an innocent shrug. "I just need our old collection of phone books."
"You want to read phone books?" the man repeated, an eyebrow raised at him in disbelief. "Why come here? Every phone booth out there has one, if I recall."
"Yes, I know," Harry admitted sheepishly, "but they don't list numbers outside of England."
"List numbers outside of- what?" the man repeated, his confusion deepening. "Why? Are you looking for someone abroad?"
Shaking his head, Harry pursed his lips. "It's…" he tried but relented. Perhaps his employer would know. " I need the phone books to look for a school in Scotland."
Now both of Mr Carlson's eyebrows rose slightly at the comment.
"A school in Scotland?" he muttered lazily, "I thought you were being homeschooled. Are you thinking of going to boarding school?"
Harry was surprised by the line of questions. It had not been a thing for Mr Carlson to inquire into his personal business. As far back as Harry could remember, this would count the first time the man had expressed a deeper interest in him other than the usual inquiries into his late arrivals for work.
Every time he'd tried to make progress in finding the school, odd things seemed to occur.
"My friend, Hermione, is attending a private school in Scotland and she forgot to give me the school's details," he explained, his discomfort hidden stoically.
The older man eyed him some more before a contemplative look crossed his eyes.
"What's the school's name? Perhaps I can help you," he offered suddenly.
Surprised by the words, Harry was at a loss but soon nodded hopefully.
"It's a place called Hugwards or Hoggsward I believe," he pronounced carefully, praying that the man would not think him crazy. The words sounded as odd as anything really that pertained to the English language.
Instead of a look of confusion, Harry witnessed a brief look of shock pass over his superior's face. The jaw lowered to hang for merely a second before setting tensely.
"Hogwarts, you say," Mr Carlson offered vaguely, his eyes scanning Harry with interest. "And you said your friend told you it's a school in Scotland?"
Harry nodded tersely.
"Did she mention anything about the curriculum? What is taught at this school, for example?" the man prodded further.
Thinking about it, Harry couldn't remember Hermione mentioning any of the studies she took at Hogwards.
"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that," Harry replied disappointedly, shrugging at the older man. "All I know is that a person called 'Dumbledoor' and somebody called 'Hagritt' seems to work there."
"I see," Mr Carlson nodded inquisitively. "So, you don't know anything other than this supposed 'Hogwarts' name and the names of some of their employees, correct?"
Reminded by the stark lack of information, Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd wasted the trip and the man's time. Clearly, asking about things that seemingly didn't exist would be a waste of time.
But Hermione didn't just up and disappear, and Sirius and Celine explicitly mentioned Hogwards. It must exist. It has to.
The man continued to stare down at him for a few moments before nodding wordlessly to himself. Turning on the spot, he disappeared behind the curtain leading to the locker room where Harry and the other few employees would usually keep their private belongings while on their shift.
After what seemed like a long minute or two, Mr Carlson re-emerged from the shadows with a thick, yellow-stained book clutched under his arm.
"I haven't heard of any school even remotely similar in name but-" the older man mumbled through his tired face, while he handed Harry the heavy body of paper, "here you go. You can check for the number and address for as long as you like, just make sure to return it before you leave."
Without another word, Mr Carslon stepped off and bent back over the magazine, his attention drawn away from Harry entirely.
Before Harry went to grab the phone book, Mr Carlson spoke up once more from his bent position.
"Some things are best left alone, Harry," the man warned him cryptically. "I recommend that if you don't find the thing you're looking for in there, you cease your interest in it. Curiosity and the cat, if you know what I mean."
His warning delivered, the man turned back once more and remained silent thereafter.
Nodding his understanding but remaining otherwise silent, Harry lifted the book with a strenuous grunt and made his way over to a quiet corner in the back of the store, to begin his search for the school's details.
Paging his way through the lines of names, addresses and phone numbers, he soon realized that the unusual name was not listed anywhere. Not on the list of private addresses or educational institutions nor was it mentioned under miscellaneous facilities. The place called Hoggwards, or whatever its name was, truly did not exist in any directory he could find.
Scratching at his scalp, Harry closed the book with a frustrating thud, the noise echoing around the store, arousing irked expressions by the other occupants of the space.
Giving them an apologetic wave, Harry refocused his thoughts on the question at hand.
Had Hermione lied to him about the school?
He shook his head at the notion. Sirius, Celine, and Hermione had made mentions of the place and the place being a school. It must therefore exist, he recalled again.
He could ask them directly for answers but given that they had mentioned it in secret, they would try to keep it so and instead reprimand him for spying on them.
Whatever it was, he had to know more. He had to ask Hermione about it again and it could not wait until her return on the day of the race. He had to find a way to contact her despite being at a school that didn't officially exist and that couldn't be found in any phone book.
Grinding his teeth in frustration, he grabbed the phonebook and made his way back toward where his employer read his magazine.
Before he could cover half of the distance, he stopped in his tracks. An idea had popped into his mind.
I might not find the school, but I could still call Hermione's parents and ask for further information.
Glad that he'd found the next-best course of action, he rushed back toward where Mr Carlson stood bent over and placed the heavy book by his side.
"Thanks for the help, Mr Carlson," Harry called as he made his way quickly back to the exit of the store.
Before the older man could open his mouth to reprimand Harry for his loud conduct again, he had already escaped the store, the bell at the door jingling enthusiastically in his wake.
As the quiet of the store crept back into the space and only the muffled words of the other customers travelled through the rows of shelves, Mr Carlson sighed worriedly before picking up the phone book by his side.
Taking it back with him as he walked into the hidden part of the store, he laid it down by the telephone on one of the shelves.
Grabbing the speaker, he sighed again as he dialled a number he hadn't contacted since Harry's first day on the job over a year ago.
At the questioning voice coming from the other end of the line, Mr Carlson swallowed after clearing his voice to speak.
"Yes, it's Peter Carlson here. I'm afraid there's an issue I must report on. Yes, it's about Harry. No, he's perfectly fine. I'm calling about another matter. Yes, Harry just came by in search of information. Well," he began, unsure of how to divulge his newest observation.
At the prod coming from the inquisitive voice from the other end, Mr Carlson steeled his voice for his most important message since the beginning of the arrangement.
"I believe he is beginning to connect the dots."
###
Black Manor, London, England
Shortly after arriving at home, Harry dashed inside, tossing his shoes and coat carelessly across the floor of the entrance hall.
Looking around as he swiftly made his way through the corridor of the manor that led to the staircase to the upper floors, he noticed that both Celine and Sirius weren't at home, giving him an opportunity to make progress on his little hunt for clues.
Entering his room, he went and searched for the piece of paper that had Hermione's home number written on it, along with her home address.
The little yellow post-it sticker remained elusive until he tossed a pile of clothes off his chair, where he found the paper sticking to the back of the backrest.
With a little excited jump, he grabbed it and ran back outside, homing in on the small table that had the dark red phone sitting quietly by its complete lonesome, save for a vase with flowers giving it some colour.
Picking up the speaker, he gingerly dialled the number and waited for the buzz of the line to come to life.
At the sudden female voice responding, he jerked with shock and slammed the phone shut.
He hadn't considered what to say. He had never spoken to her parents. They were perfect strangers to him and it was the same for them. Would they even tell him anything?
Shaking his head, he cleared his mind and reminded himself that calling his friend's parents was all he could hope to do if he wanted answers to his spiralling questions.
Raising the speaker to his ear, he re-dialled the number and waited for the female voice to answer again, his trepidation be damned.
At the sudden interruption of the buzzing of the line, Harry's heart quickened.
"Am I speaking to Mrs Granger?" he inquired quietly.
"Yes, this is Emma Granger, who am I speaking to?" She replied politely.
"This is Harry, Harry Potter. I'm a friend of Hermione's?" He supplied hopefully.
"Harry? Oh, from the bookstore? Oh yes, I heard about you!" She gushed. "I'm sorry, Harry. If you're calling to speak with Hermione, she's still away at school."
"Right," he confirmed. "I know."
At his response, the woman hummed in confusion. "If you already knew that she hasn't returned yet, why call at all?"
He swallowed. "It's about something she said that left me wondering."
"Is it something she would have shared with us? Otherwise, you will have to wait until she returns," Mrs Granger clarified, her voice softer than it was in the beginning.
"It's about her school, Hogwards?" Harry offered hopefully.
He was sure she would be able to answer any questions he had about the school, given she was Hermione's parent. Parents would know almost anything about the school their children attended.
"Hogwarts?" Hermione's mother repeated worriedly. "Uhm, what about it? What has she told you?"
"Only that it was in Scotland and rather discrete. She hasn't shared much about it," he recalled. "I regret not asking more about it. I've been trying to find out more about it in books and such, but there's no mention of it anywhere."
"Well, yes," she agreed. "It's rather…how should I say…quite special in a way. When Hermione was invited to attend, her father and I were quite ecstatic."
Mrs Granger sounded excited and marvelled about how Hermione had jumped at the letter of acceptance she'd received when she had just turned eleven.
"But," she said, her tone changing and becoming less forthcoming. "I'm afraid that we, as her parents, had to sign an agreement that would prevent us from speaking about it in more detail."
"Oh," he muttered dejectedly.
Thinking on how to prod her mother for anything she might be able to tell him, Harry tried to focus back on the words his foster parents mentioned in connection with Hogwards. Remembering some, he pulled the speaker closer.
"Could you perhaps tell me what 'muggleborns', 'purebloods', and the names 'Dumbledoor' and 'Hargritt' mean? Do these words ring any bells?" he asked with a last grasp at hope.
"Eh," he heard her utter reluctantly. "I fear that I have no idea what these words mean, Harry. I think it's best if you wait for Hermione's return from school. I'm sure whatever your questions are, she'll love to help you find answers."
Deflated by lack of answers, he tried not to sound like he'd been punched in the gut. His entire morning's plan had come to an unsatisfying end and the feeling would undoubtedly remain until he'd see his best friend on the tenth.
"I see," he smiled into the phone. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Granger."
"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help Harry, and please do call me Emma. Any friend of Hermione's is a friend to us as well."
"Well, uhm," he fumbled, intimidated by the sudden familiarity. "Thank you, Emma. And I'm sorry for disturbing you."
"Think nothing of it, Harry," she gushed again. "It was lovely of you to call. Despite my inability to help you."
"It was nice talking to you as well," he said awkwardly. "Goodbye, Mrs- Emma."
"Goodbye, Harry."
###
September 10th, 1994
Black Manor, London, England
Giving the garage one last look, Harry nodded to himself with satisfaction. He had not left anything behind that he might need for the race today and subsequently jumped to grab the short rope to pull the garage door shut.
Dusting his hands off, he made his way over to the green Range Rover, where Sirius already sat in the driver's seat with Celine still loading their lunch baskets into the open boot.
Attached to the back of the 4x4 was a trailer, the freshly painted and heavily modified Mercedes 190 sitting patiently on it. Belts and chains were set up to secure the load, the added tension on the chassis, lowering the car even a few inches more, giving it a meaner look than it already had before.
Harry could not help but grin in excitement. His car was as mean-looking as it got with a powerful bite behind the loud bark of its Japanese-made boxer engine – a 350 Bhp beast ready to pounce on the competition.
"Are you done checking out your ticket to the big leagues, mate," Sirius called. "We may still be early, but I have no clue how to get to the place. So we've got to go."
"It's fine," Harry waved off," I know where to go. I've memorised the way there. We'll be fine and on time, don't worry."
"Doesn't matter if you know," his godfather insisted. "I'd still prefer to go extra early."
Seeing as his godfather seemed to have made a final decision, Harry relented.
Considering that he'd never actually gone through the registration process and the safety inspection before, Harry would benefit from having some added time to learn the ropes. Making mistakes and running around to complete the paperwork and get the necessary stamps to be added to the roster would be time-consuming.
"Will Hermione meet us there or do we need to pick her up from somewhere else?" Celine inquired from beside him.
"She said she'd come to meet us there," Harry replied. Soon he would be able to ask her about that.
Celine nodded and went to close the open hatch of the Range Rover before moving to get seated in the passenger seat beside Sirius.
Giving his car a last look over, Harry walked around it and let his eyes travel along its body, taking in its beautiful predatory appearance.
Knowing that the race was designed to mix disciplines, the surfaces during the race varied between dust, asphalt, gravel and dirt. Harry had therefore set up the suspension slightly higher than he would have preferred and made it softer to absorb the shocks coming from the uneven patches of earth and dirt.
He then used tougher sway bars to avoid the car's risk of rolling over on the smoother surfaces and prevent Ron from having to counter-steer and thus lose ground. Also, since it was going to be mostly younger amateur drivers competing, the likelihood of intended collisions to cut the distance and gain an advantage required Harry to set the gears to shorter ratios to regain lost momentum.
There was an abundance of things he had considered for the race but the one thing that truly determined whether the car performed to specifications would be up to Ron Weasley.
Despite having seen Ron drive, Harry still did not know if the young redhead would find his way around the track without causing the car to spin and crash.
Thankfully, before the race would take place, the drivers' meeting was going to illustrate what the teams would have to watch out for and which rules were to be followed to minimize risk.
The race was part of the English Motorsports Association, and therefore under the scrutinizing purview of the FIA, but given that it was an amateur race, it was more lenient in terms of driver penalties than in higher classes events.
"Harry," Sirius called again, his demeanour growing impatient. "We'll need to make for the place now, or we'll get bogged down in traffic."
"Right, coming," Harry replied.
Jumping into the car and settling himself in the backseat, he took a calming breath. It was useless, however. The nausea that had plagued him in the last few days still held on to him with a sickening grip, his inability to enjoy Celine's cooking pointing toward his general pale demeanour.
Sirius eyed him in the mirror, giving him a knowing nod, which Harry returned straight away, signalling his godfather that he was ready to go.
With a soft lurch, the Range Rover moved forward and began their journey to the event.
Sitting in the silence that hung between the three of them, Harry couldn't avoid the other conundrum that had plagued him the last few days since his telephone call with Hermione's mother.
Emma had been vague, evasive even, and left him with more questions than answers. To his growing frustration his efforts to discover the meaning and implications of Sirius and Celine's discussion from more than a week ago were proving fruitless.
Biting down on his cheek, he could not believe how difficult it had become to hold back on his curiosity and sudden urges to scream in anger.
What did it matter if he asked them directly?
So what if he listened in on one of their conversations?
Why would they punish him for listening in on a conversation in his own home?
Considering that they were in a car and on their way, Harry figured they'd be unable to avoid answering his questions.
Waiting for a proper moment to mutter his thoughts, he raised his gaze to look at Celine, who had spent the last ten minutes of their drive, staring at the passing scenery outside the window.
Seeing as the situation wouldn't grow more appropriate to start his line of questions Harry squeezed his folded hands to muster the confidence to push past his reservations. With a subdued, bated breath he cleared his throat to speak.
"Celine?" He called.
"Hm?" She replied nonchalantly, not turning to look at him.
"There is something I've been meaning to ask you and Sirius."
"About?"
"Well, it has to do with Hermione," he offered.
"Oh, what about her?" Celine smirked at him knowingly, her eyes seeking him out in curiosity.
"Her school, this Hogwards place," he pronounced carefully. "Do you know anything about it?"
Her face morphed into a look of pure shock before quickly changing into a flat wall of disinterest.
Sirius had remained unmoving and hadn't reacted to his inquiry in the school. His lack of a reaction seemed uncharacteristic.
Celine seemed to ponder his question, her finger playing with her chin as she continued to eye something in the distance behind Harry.
"I never heard of such a place," she replied confidently.
Thinking the matter closed, his de facto mother turned her attention back on the passing cars and people.
"But you and Sirius did mention it just the other night," he countered quickly, hoping to catch her off guard.
"What?!" both Sirius and Celine suddenly yelled.
Inching away from the loud noise coming from the front of the car, Harry made himself smaller, fearing that he'd broken some spell over the car.
"When and where did you hear us mention Hogwarts?"
"I heard you argue the other night, something about Dumbledore and some guy called Hagritt and other strange words I've never heard of," he explained quickly.
Celine had looked at him in shock, giving Sirius the odd one as well. He returned a rief glance at her but was busy focussing on the road.
Harry recognized the opportunity to push further and break their silence.
"It is the school Hermione attends. It's the school she said Sirius attended and you," he pointed at her in accusation, "said you and he both have met at school."
He let the words and the heat he felt fester in the small space of the Range Rover, his hands growing sweaty in anticipation of her next deflection.
She had never seemed like a person to hide her past from him, having always been upfront about who she was and what she said to him. Lying, deception, and trickery were not characteristics he would ever have thought to attribute to her.
Sirius was secretive. He was funny when he wanted to be, compassionate even when they shared stories about his parents, but he kept a close lid over many other things in his life. Celine was different.
Whereas Sirius was keeping secrets, Celine was open and honest, never hiding what she felt, thought or did from him.
"What is going on with the both of you?" Harry demanded hotly. "Why are you tight-lipped about this? It's just a school like any other."
"No, it's not, Harry," Sirius interrupted, giving Harry a glance in the mirror.
"Then what makes it so special that you and Celine, and even Hermione's parents play dumb whenever I ask about it?"
At a loss of words, Sirius mouthed like a fish out of water. "It's complicated," he deflected instead.
"Bollocks," Harry swore in frustration.
"Language, young man," Celine bristled at him, her head finally turning to pin him with an angry stare. "I know this matters to you and I understand that our...lack of forthcoming is frustrating but you will not curse at us, you hear me?"
"But-"
"No buts," she added angrily.
The anger felt suffocating to him and he twisted and rubbed at his arms in an attempt to release some of it. Unable to find any kind of proper opportunity to release the pressure in his body, he went for the only physical gateway he could see.
"Harry? What-" Sirius called before he had to hit the brakes hard, the wheels of Range Rover screeching in agony while the door next to where Harry had been just mere seconds ago swung wide open, bouncing against the hinges.
"Harry!" Celine called.
"Harry, come back."
The both of them stepped out of the car in exasperation, their frightened gazes fixed on the young boy running into the forest across the field next to the road. Without a word to Sirius, Celine chased after him, her hair waving behind her furiously.
Waving his apologies and receiving some verbal abuse, Sirius let the cars behind the Range Rover move along before making sure that Harry's car had not suffered any damage from the sudden stop.
He then moved the 4x4 along with the trailer to a better position on the road, before making his way over where he had last seen Celine disappear.
He hadn't noticed his quick heartbeat until then. Not before he noticed how wet his palms felt when he tried to pull his wand from the breast pocket of his coat.
Swallowing his apparent sense of panic down, he cast a quick point-me to help him find Celine. Sure enough, the magic of the spell showed him where to go and he rushed off after them, the sweat still sticking to the skin of his hand.
Was it time to tell him? Was this close enough to break the promise he'd made to Harry's parents? His friends?
Perhaps it was time.
###
"Harry!" Celine called into the quiet humidity of the forest, her voice drowned out by the many trees that darkened the sky above her.
"Harry, please, I'm sorry," she pleaded.
Looking around her, she tried to spy any kind of motion in the vast mix of green. His clothes weren't flashy by any means but she'd make damn sure she'd notice any changes in her periphery.
After calling his name a few more times and receiving no response, she was growing sure that he'd gone further than she'd anticipated.
Pulling out her wand from her pocket, she checked her surroundings once more before casting the revelation spell.
Nothing happened.
Looking at her wand in confusion, she cast the spell again.
Still, nothing happened.
After the third time, she felt a slight chill run along her hand and up to her chest.
"What in the..." she muttered.
Dementors?
She turned around, scared. Looking for dark creatures dancing in her shadows.
Nonsense. They would never travel outside the borders of Azkaban.
Hearing the crunching of steps, Celine broke from her thoughts, her wand hidden behind her, she twisted around to look for the origin of the noises.
Expecting to see a much shorter person, she was disappointed to see a long-haired, bearded Sirius instead.
"Have you found him?" He asked right away, his gaze scanning the space behind her.
"No, not yet," she replied deflated. "I can't find him. I've tried to…"
"You can't find him?" He repeated incredulously.
"I tried casting the spell," she explained, "but it's not working."
Shaking his head at her, he waited for her to elaborate further.
"I can't cast it," she offered instead.
"Can't cast it?"
Nodding at him, she felt helpless and let her shoulder sag.
He didn't bother prodding further and made to cast the charm himself. It worked just fine but yielded no results. They were the only people in the closer vicinity of the small forest.
"Maybe he returned to the Range Rover by now," he suggested into the eerie silence of the woods. "Come, let's try and see whether he's run back."
She didn't say anything, still confused by her failed use of the spell, but agreed with him with a silent nod. Together they jogged back toward the car beyond the trees ahead of them.
###
He rubbed at his arms as he waited by the car, the doors locked and otherwise abandoned.
Feeling a touch of shame for his actions, Harry tried to hide behind his hoodie, waiting for the two of them to come to find him and give him a tongue lashing he hadn't experienced since his childhood.
He still felt the odd tingling sensation travel along his skin as he kept on rubbing at his arms. The air in the forest had a strange charge to them when he'd been hiding there. It was chilly at first but soon it became warmer until there were three strange buzzing sensations and he felt hot. Hot enough to make him take off his hoodie, and almost freeze due to the sweat on his back.
He'd never felt anything like this before. At least not for a very, very long time, he thought. Not for as long as he could remember.
"Harry!"
The sudden call of his name alerted him to the arrival of his godfather and Celine, who looked like they'd been through a storm to find him.
"Sirius-" he tried but was shut up by the furious gazes that were fixated on him, the quartet of grey orbs clouded by a mix of worry and wrath.
"I'm sorry," he offered instead.
"You better be," Sirius spoke, the snarl that Harry had expected, missing. "We're late. Let's just get to the place and we can...we can talk about Hogwarts after we get home."
At first, the words didn't register with him but raising his gaze to meet his parents, he was met with looks of defeat and exhaustion. And maybe a touch of relief.
Deciding it was best not to prod further and elated at the unspoken promise, Harry nodded his agreement and got back in the car.
The rest of the drive to the event was spent in dead silence.
###
Arriving at the event, Harry got out with a bounce, the drama from before almost completely forgotten. He rushed to the back of the trailer and began preparing the Benz for unloading.
Sirius eyed him wearily as he studied the pamphlet he had received by the guide at the entrance to the team parking.
His mind still reeled from the promise they had given to Harry. By tonight Harry would know, and he would be miserable.
Filing his dread for later, Sirius refocused his attention on the piece of paper in his hand. According to the 'to-do' list, they still had to register and pay the participation fees and go through inspection. Only then would they be called into the team meeting to receive their starting number and instructions on what to do next.
The nostalgia, from memories of watching James and Lily go through these exact things, wasn't lost on him. Looking over to where Celine was standing, helping Harry unload the car, she too seemed to feel the pang of hurt from their past.
"Harry," he announced, "I'll go and finish up the paperwork. You take the car to the inspection tent and get the 'Ok' from them. We'll meet at our designated spot, clear?"
"Crystal," Harry called without looking at his godfather. Too busy with untangling the belts that held the car in place on the trailer.
After some time passed and they met back at their spot, Harry waited patiently for Weasleys to arrive. The team meeting was not quite yet due but Ron arriving soon wouldn't hurt their chances at being on time. As dearly he'd hoped to see a redhead show up, he couldn't deny his wish to see the bushy hair of Hermione more.
The absence of his dear friend worried him and let a weight settle in his stomach. She'd said she would come but he had yet to receive any kind of note from her that she had made it back from her school successfully.
Before he could move to ask his uncle for his cell phone and call Hermione's parents, Ron Weasley and his father Arthur trotted into view. The light blue Anglia came coughing and bumbling along, almost shaving past the tight space between the now almost fully occupied parking lot.
Harry's discomfort in the pit of his stomach made way for another wave of excitement as he rushed over to where the little Ford came to a final stop and the occupants disembarked with enthusiasm.
"Hi, Ron," Harry greeted, shaking the boy's hand. "Good day to you too, Mr Weasley. I almost thought you wouldn't make it."
"Nonsense, my boy," Mr Weasley reassured, patting him on the back. "I'd never miss this opportunity, even if I had to turn invisible and fly here to make it."
Harry giggled at the man's antics before ushering a quiet Ron toward their tent where Harry had prepared the boy's protective gear and a few telling notes on the car's setup.
After watching the two youngsters leave with a spring to their step, Arthur Weasley made his way over to the couple waiting by the black racing car parked under a make-shift roof.
"Good Morning, Ms Blythe," Arthur greeted her, raising his hat at her politely which she accepted with a smile and greeting of her own.
"Sirius."
"Arthur."
The men shook hands and Sirius invited him to sit on one of the chairs provided to them by the catering company who looked after the participants of the event.
"I can't help but thank you again for this opportunity, Sirius," Arthur said, his excitement reddening his cheeks in anticipation of what he felt was a chance he'd never get again.
"Ron's been giddy all week, counting the days until today. He even bought a muggle calendar to cross out the days, you know? Those that you hang on the wall and have static pictures?"
"I do," Sirius confirmed.
"And I warned him as instructed, to be careful around Mr Potter," Arthur added with a knowing look. "I've drilled it into him that Mr Potter is to be treated like a muggle."
At hearing those words, Celine turned to eye Sirius sharply, her gaze disapproving but also holding a speck of guilt.
"It won't matter soon, Arthur," Sirius admitted with a sigh.
Furrowed brows formed on Mr Weasley's face. "I don't understand. Does Mr Potter know already?"
"Not quite," Celine interrupted. "But he's forced our hand."
At the questioning look, Sirius explained what had transpired in the last few days and that the act was soon to come to an end after a boy's lifetime of hiding and keeping secrets.
"Perhaps it is for the best," Mr Weasley argued. "These things should never have been kept secret in the first place."
At the livid look he received from Sirius and Celine, he raised a hand apologetically.
"I didn't mean to imply that what you did was wrong. I'm sure that whatever transpired in Mr Potter's life has given you good enough reason to inspire you to do what you did." He explained placatingly but moved to infuse his observation and judgment. "I just believe that Mr Potter, whatever his circumstance, has had a right to know of his heritage."
Sirius opened his mouth to reject Arthur's words but found himself unable to do so. Neither was Celine able to refute what the man had said.
Arthur smiled at them with understanding, raising an apologetic hand to underline his regret. "Please forgive my rude remark. I overstepped my place gravely and I apologize for it."
"We were afraid," Sirius admitted instead, moving his hand to hold Celine's, who had reached out to him at the same time. "We were afraid of what he would have to go through as a squib."
"I understand," Mr Weasley tried.
"You don't understand," Sirius disagreed vehemently, looking around to see whether anyone heard his outburst but was glad that Celine had probably already raised walls of privacy.
"I-" he started but paused to correct himself. "We promised his parents that we'd look after him. That we'd protect him from pain and suffering. But we never guessed he'd be the one to prod, to question, to demand answers we had worked eight long years to keep secret. We have built an entire life around the lie, to protect him. We didn't expect that we'd fail so shortly before he would have left the nest to find his own way in the muggle world. He would have been none the wiser."
"And if he'd learned later?" Arthur countered, eyeing them with gentle eyes that held a sharpness to them that Sirius hadn't noticed before. "What if he'd found out when he was much older? When his own children would perform acts of accidental magic? What then?"
"Then-"
"Then we'd have begged for forgiveness," Celine spoke over Sirius. "And pray he would have granted us the chance to explain."
Sirius gripped the arm of his plastic chair hard, feeling the unsmooth corners dig into his fingers.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he muttered. "We're telling him."
At the questioning gaze of Arthur, Celine and Sirius shared a look, both tired and weary but they felt the spark of inevitability take root in their minds.
Silently nodding at one another, Celine spoke first.
"After the race, when we all return home together, we'll tell him. We'll tell him as much as he will be able to bear."
"And I pray that it will be the absolution I imagine it could be," Sirius added with a fraction of hope muddled in trepidation.
"May Lily forgive us for our failure," Celine whispered, so only Sirius could hear.
End of Chapter
###
A/N: I hope you liked it and will stick around for the next chapter. There'll be blood. Jk, but I always wanted to say that.
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Have a good one :)