It Only Takes a Drop of Blood
Chapter Twelve: Sirius Affairs and Meetings
There was little word on Sirius' case over the weekend, despite the gossip that lit Hogwarts' corridors. No owls came in from London, so all they saw were the increasingly dark clouds reflected in the ceiling above the Great Hall. They'd sent Pig off with a letter, but no word came. While Ron was blaming Pig's ineptness, Hermione reasoned that the Order was probably concerned about people intercepting owls. Neither argument soothed Harry's anxiety.
All weekend, Harry kept an eye out for McGonagall or Dumbledore, but both of them disappeared from the castle after the news broke on Friday until breakfast Monday morning. He was mashing his eggs with his fork when the two swept in, their heads together in conversation.
"Finally!" he muttered, a leg already halfway out from under Gryffindor's table.
Before he could get their attention, however, Hermione grabbed his elbow and swept him off to class.
"Wha—Hermione!" Harry protested, craning his neck. "I need to talk to—"
"Yes and if you do it here, then Umbridge will get suspicious," she interrupted primly. "You can ask Professor McGonagall after class."
"But that's not until tomorrow!"
"Then go to her office after classes today," Hermione said sharply. "Either way, if we don't leave now, we'll be late for History of Magic."
Harry huffed. He glanced back but both teachers were already leaving the Head Table. Grumbling under his breath, he followed his friends, ignoring the smugness radiating off Hermione.
Ron bumped his shoulder and glanced about for any eavesdroppers. "Worried about Sirius?" he asked, barely moving his lips.
"And the trial," Harry nodded. "I thought he'd send a letter by now."
"He's probably just worried about it being intercepted," his friend pointed out.
"Maybe." Harry ducked his head.
Ron eyed his friend carefully. "Why don't I owl dad?" he offered. "You know, when Pig gets back. Maybe he'll know something."
"That'd be great Ron," said Harry, giving him a tentative grin. "Thanks."
"Oi!" Hermione gestured at the two of them from the classroom doorway. "Come on, class is about to start!" She darted inside without a second glance.
Harry and Ron shared a look and burst out laughing.
"Don't know why she has to sound so excited," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "She'll be asleep in no time, just like the rest of us."
"Yeah," agreed Harry, "but let's get inside before we get detentions. I do not need another one." He headed for the door.
Ron snorted as he followed. "Angelina would go spare if you got one and missed practice tonight."
Harry shook his head. "Yeah and then I'd be the Boy-Who-Died."
He shared a smirk with Ron before Hermione glared and shushed them. It took all they had to hold back their laughter when she turned to Binns with rapt attention. She ignored them and soon enough they were doodling and playing hangman just to stay awake.
The teachers and Hermione managed to distract them all day so he didn't have a chance to find McGonagall or Dumbledore. By that evening, Harry was going spare. As they trudged down to the Quidditch pitch, the heavy sky let loose a torrential rain.
"Well, this is brilliant," Fred commented when they joined the team under the bleachers.
George grinned. "Yes, quite the lovely weather, chap. Don't you agree Angelina?"
"Oh, shut up you two," Angelina snapped, her hair already plastered to her head. "Look, now that everyone's here, let's get up in the air. We've already lost weeks of practice with our Seeker and I'm not about to stop practice for a little rain."
As their captain's impassioned speech went on, Harry had the strangest feeling that Angelina had been possessed by Oliver Wood. They were all shivering and soaked when they mounted their brooms and he felt the wind buffet him back and forth, as he rose into the sky.
It took an incredible amount of will to stay on his broom, as the wind tried valiantly to unseat him. Chemo had lost him nearly two stone of needed weight and the rain made it tough for him to grip his broom. The cold cut through his robes and went straight to his bones. Harry shivered and clutched his broom tighter. The only way he'd catch the snitch in this was if it flew straight into his hand.
Angelina ended the practice after a hopeless hour and the entire team slogged their way back up the slope to the castle. No one could muster up the energy to speak as they trudged through the halls up to the dormitory, keeping a wary eye out for Filch.
Harry's hands felt like ice and he could barely feel his limbs through the cold. Ron's freckles stood out on his pale cheeks and he looked as if an entire bucket of water had been emptied over his head. When they made their way through the portrait hole, Hermione took one glance at them and ushered them upstairs for a hot shower.
It took what felt like ten minutes of soaking before tingling started in his fingers and toes and Harry's teeth stopped chattering. As he was getting out of the shower, a powerful burning started in his head.
"Ouch!" he cried, pressing a towel to his face.
"Harry?" Ron asked.
"Scar," he mumbled, stumbling to his bed. Harry sat down gingerly and heard rustling as Ron rounded his bed to stand next to him.
"He—he can't hear us, right?"
Harry shook his head, pulling away from the towel. "No, he's miles away."
"Is this like what happened last time? You know, with Umbridge?"
He shook his head. "No, this was different," he said, biting his lip. "The last time-it was almost as if-he was happy. This wasn't like that." He looked up at Ron. "He's angry."
Ron's face was stark white. "Mate, what's going on?" he asked, joining Harry on the bed. "You're-you're reading You-Know-Who's mind."
The dark haired teen grimaced. "It's more like feeling his emotions," he corrected, clenching his fists, "but, yeah. It's been happening a lot."
"You've got to tell Dumbledore," Ron said firmly. "Maybe he'll know why it's happening."
Harry nodded. "I'm going to, just as soon as I can." He scrubbed at his face.
The two sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Ron broke it suddenly, standing in one fluid motion.
"I'm going to go downstairs and talk to Hermione." He looked questioningly at Harry.
"Think I'll go to bed," he said quietly, running a hand through his hair. "I'm tired."
Ron nodded and threw him a weak smile. "Good night," he said, walking out of the dormitory.
"Night," Harry murmured, falling back into his thoughts.
Tuesday morning dawned with still no word from Sirius. Harry thrummed with energy through Charms, causing him to overpower his Growth Charm.
"A little less power, Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick tutted as he passed by their desk, that was buckling under his stone's massive size. The Charms professor waved his wand to shrink it. "Perhaps more practice is in order?"
Harry sighed and ignored Hermione's knowing look. With a wave of her wand, she smoothly enlarged her rock to twice its original size.
"Well done Miss Granger!" the diminutive professor cheered. "Take five points for Gryffindor."
As he moved on, Harry groaned and tried again. This time, his rock didn't change at all.
"You're worried about Sirius, aren't you?" Hermione asked, shrinking her stone.
"Yeah," Harry said.
"He'll be fine," Ron reassured, clapping him on the back. "I'm sure it's just a matter of time before he sends a letter. With Pettigrew in jail, I imagine that lot's busy trying to get everything sorted."
Harry nodded. "Which is why I need to talk to McGonagall," he said. "If we can't risk owl post, maybe she can give him a letter for me."
Hermione smiled. "That sounds like a good plan. Are you going to give it to her after class?"
"Yeah," he said, patting his bag. "I wrote it this morning."
Ron broke out in a fit of laughter. Harry and Hermione exchanged a bewildered look.
"What's so funny, mate?" Harry asked.
Between sniggers, he answered. "Harry's going to...have McGonagall deliver...a letter!"
"Yes...?" Hermione prompted.
Ron's chuckles subsided and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Because, you know, her Animagus form is a cat," he said, his lips twitching.
Harry immediately imagined McGonagall's cat form scowling crossly at him with his letter round her neck and had to stuff his fist into his mouth to suppress the laughter. As the two boys bent over their desks in mirth, Hermione rolled her eyes fondly at the two of them.
Later, after Transfiguration, it appeared that McGonagall had the same idea as Ron.
"Please Professor?" Harry asked, holding out the parchment. The classroom had already emptied of the other students, and Hermione and Ron were waiting at the door for him.
Her lips pressed together. "Very well," she agreed, taking the letter and tucking it into her pocket. "Just this once, Potter. Understood? I am not a post owl."
"Yes, Professor, I understand." He grinned. "Thanks."
A small smile stole over the stern professor's features. "You're welcome. Now, off to lunch with you. I believe the elves have made an excellent beef stew."
He nodded. The trio quickly rejoined their classmates and the rest of the school as they noisily made their way to the Great Hall.
A weight had been lifted off Harry's chest. He reveled in that through lunch and in the unending downpour as the trio trudged the swamp-like grounds to Care of Magical Creatures. This, however, subsided as Grubby-Plank had them working with a lake-dwelling creature, which provided no shelter from the rain.
Herbology followed, so they were jostled inside a greenhouse for a sweaty hour of repotting plants, before being shuffled back outside in the icy rain.
All of them were soaked through and frozen to the bone by the end of the day. Even Hermione's usually bushy hair was plastered on her head as they ran to the castle for hot showers and to finish the mountains of homework due the next day.
He was in the corridor. Dim lights flickered and locked doors surrounded him. He walked down to the end, his steps echoing in the silence and his hand stretched out for the last door's handle. He just needed to get to it…
Something spongy was on his face. Harry snapped awake, looking around blurrily. "Whozat?"
"Harry Potter, sir!"
"Dobby?" he cleared his throat and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table.
"Dobby has your owl, sir!"
Harry blinked blearily. The house elf was standing on his bed, his pointed ears sticking out from under a towering pile of lopsided knit hats. Hedwig was perched on Dobby's head, hooting softly at him.
"Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter's owl!" he squeaked, a look of adoration on his face. "Professor Grubbly-Plank says she is all well now, sir!" He gave a deep bow, knocking Hedwig off. She hooted indignantly and flapped her way to a bedpost.
"Thanks Dobby!" Harry croaked, eyeing his owl. He desperately tried to shake off the afterimages of corridors and locked doors that lay behind his eyes. Blinking, he eyed Dobby, who was also covered in scarves and layers of socks. "Er… have you been taking all the clothes Hermione's been leaving out?"
"Oh, no, sir," Dobby said happily, "Dobby has been taking some for Winky too, sir."
"Yeah, how is Winky?"
As Dobby explained that Winky's drinking problem hadn't gotten any better, Harry realized how bad he felt. His head was aching, his whole body felt heavy and his throat was on fire. As he sat up, his blanket slipped down and a wave cool air hit his torso. He shivered.
Ron's and Neville's snores could be heard from behind the bed hangings, so it was still the middle of the night. Harry tuned in as Dobby finished explaining how he was cleaning the entire Gryffindor common room because none of the other house elves wanted to find Hermione's knitted clothes.
"Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter, for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much, much happier now…"
Harry smiled. "You can't help me, Dobby, but thanks for the offer." He swallowed roughly and coughed.
He shifted and a sliver of moonlight came through his bed hangings and hit his hand, lighting up the silver scar—the result of his detention with Umbridge.
"Wait a moment," Harry said, looking up. "There is something you can do for me, Dobby."
The next morning, Harry cornered Ron and Hermione before breakfast and told them about Dobby's idea.
"The Room of Requirement?" Ron repeated.
Harry nodded. "It's perfect. Dobby told me where to find it and everything." He muffled a cough into his sleeve and cleared his throat.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "That's brilliant Harry," she said, biting her lip. When the black haired teen coughed again, she added, "Er, Harry?"
"Hmm?" He looked up at his friends.
"Are you feeling alright?" At his look, she hastily continued. "It's just that you've been coughing a lot this morning and you don't look all that well—"
"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said pleadingly. "It's nothing."
Hermione bit her lip and shifted nervously. A growl penetrated the awkward silence and Harry and Hermione turned to a blushing Ron.
"What?" he cried defensively. "I'm hungry! Let's go down to breakfast before it's all gone."
His friends rolled their eyes but followed the redhead out the portrait hole.
"Ron, you do know how unlikely it is that the food will run out, don't you?" Hermione said rhetorically when he prodded her to move faster.
Ron's flush became more prominent as he muttered mutinously under his breath. Harry, for his part, stuffed fist into his mouth to smother his chuckles. When the laughs turned into coughs, he did his best to keep them quiet.
Harry couldn't blame his friends for being worried. This was the third time in little over a month that he'd been ill since he'd seen them. True, the chemotherapy had caused most of it, but he knew that it was more than that.
The other teens on the oncology ward had warned him how the treatments would affect his cell count. Outside of the obvious symptoms, the drugs would lower his resistance to infections, which meant that he would and could catch anything that came upon him. A Muggle in his position would never have been able to return to school so soon.
Harry wasn't a Muggle, but he was also stubborn. As the Gryffindors ventured out into the pouring rain, Hermione frowned and muttered furiously under her breath. Harry did his best to ignore her fussing and Ron's concerned eyes as he stifled increasingly harsh coughs into his sleeve. Herbology that morning was a wash, as no one could hear Sprout over the harsh rain pounding on the roof.
When they returned to the Entrance Hall after class, Hermione insisted on casting three warming charms on Harry. His hair faintly smoking, the three of them went to lunch, where Harry picked at his food.
"You should eat something," Hermione prodded, pushing a tureen of boiled potatoes to his elbow.
Harry, his head propped in his hand, shook his head and wiped his runny nose with a napkin. "Not hungry," he murmured.
Both his friends exchanged a frown over his head. As Harry muffled a series of back-shaking coughs into his hand, Ron's expression set and he got up, striding out of the hall. Hermione watched him leave with wide eyes. No one in recent memory had ever seen Ron willingly leave the table before he finished his meal.
"Where'd—" Harry started before getting cut off by coughs yet again. Hermione pursed her lips and poured a goblet of water for her friend, pressing it into his hand.
The black haired teen took small, careful sips until he could drink more steadily. As he set the goblet down, he glanced at his fuming bushy haired friend.
"Harry—"
"No," he croaked quietly. "I don't want to go to the Hospital Wing. I'm fine."
"Bollocks," Hermione countered primly. "Don't give me that look, Harry. You are not fine and you need to see the nurse."
Harry opened his mouth to argue when his plate vanished and in its place appeared a bowl of soup. It was steaming and the hearty chunks of chicken and noodles actually looked appetizing.
"Huh?"
His friend smiled. "See? Now, you are going to eat your lunch and then Ron and I will take you up to Madam Pomfrey." When Harry attempted to argue again, she pulled out her wand and laid it on the table. "Willingly or unwillingly," she said primly, raising an eyebrow. "Your choice."
Harry shut his mouth and picked up his spoon, not wanting to test the angry witch. When Ron returned to the hall and his vacant seat, Harry had already finished a third of the bowl. Hermione shot the redhead a brilliant smile and the three resumed their lunch.
Later, as his two friends grabbed his arms and frog-marched him to the Hospital Wing, Harry felt his heart swell with emotion at their concern. That deflated sharply upon seeing Madam Pomfrey.
"Well, what is it this time?" the matron asked, drawing her wand. "Ashwinder bite? A dark curse? Or perhaps a chimera?"
Harry shook his head. He covered his mouth hastily as a wave of coughs erupted from his chest.
Madam Pomfrey clucked sympathetically. "Just a cold, then, I wager?" At Hermione and Ron's nods, she patted a bed. "Up you get, Potter."
Reluctantly, Harry perched on the edge under the watchful eyes of his friends. They apparently had no qualms at cursing him if he tried to make a run for it.
The school nurse waved her wand, frowned and then tapped him on the forehead. At Harry's puzzled look, she answered, "Temperature charm. You're running a fever, Potter." Madam Pomfrey then fixed him with a stern look. "When'd you start feeling ill?"
Harry looked at his shoes. "Last night."
"You should have come to see me straight away," she scolded, shaking her head. "Luckily for you, we caught this just in time." Madam Pomfrey summoned three potions from her cupboards. "You were well on your way to pneumonia. Now, drink," she said, pressing a murky green potion into Harry's hand.
Grimacing, he obediently swallowed each potion she gave him, despite each tasting worse than the last. Miraculously, he felt the tickles in his throat and the imperceptible tightness in his chest disappear along with his other symptoms.
"Enough of those faces, Potter," Madam Pomfrey scolded, an amused grin playing on her lips. "Now, I want you to stay out of the rain for the rest of the day—do close your mouth, Mr. Potter, you are not a fish—or you'll end up in here for the rest of the week. Get a good night's rest and stop by in the morning. I'll want to check on those lungs before breakfast."
"But Madam Pomfrey," Hermione interjected insistently, "we have Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon!"
"And Quidditch practice tonight!" Ron added, equally fervent.
"All classes have been moved into the castle until the storm passes, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said. "Notices have been placed in the common rooms." She turned to Ron. "And I would think that your captain would prefer to have her Seeker healthy enough to play in the next game, rather than risk it over one practice." At Ron's cowed expression, she nodded. "Now off with the three of you. Mr. Potter, I'll see you tomorrow morning."
The three teens thanked her and beat a hasty retreat out of the Hospital Wing. They walked in silence for a moment, before Hermione sniffed and gave Harry a pointed look.
He rolled his eyes and stifled a grin. "Alright, fine," Harry said. "You were right, Hermione. Thanks."
Her smile lit the corridor and their voices echoed as they made their way to the common room.
The DA meeting that evening was a rousing success and Harry was still grinning proudly when he woke up on Friday morning, two days later. During breakfast, Hermione and Ron whispered excitedly about setting up another meeting soon, while Harry tucked into his eggs. At least until an owl swooped down to drop that morning's Daily Prophet in his juice.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked as he unrolled the paper. Other students around the hall were talking loudly over their copies as well.
Harry quickly read the headline, his breath catching.
SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT, PETTIGREW CONFESSES TO CRIMES
Sirius was innocent. Free. Not hunted anymore. Peter Pettigrew would go to prison for the rest of his life for everything he'd done to Harry's family and the Muggles he'd killed in that street. Sirius was innocent.
"Harry," Ron said, reading over his shoulder. He grinned and clapped the black haired teen on the back. "Brilliant news, mate."
A smile slowly crept onto Harry's face and he turned to his friends. "Yeah," he said, heart feeling lighter than it had been in some time. "Yeah it is."
"May I?" Hermione gently asked for the newspaper. Harry passed it to her and watched as her eyes quickly ran over the words. She smiled brightly as she finished. "Full pardon," she declared, looking at the boys. "They've even waived the penalty for being an illegal Animagus, on account of him being unlawfully prisoned for 12 years. Yesterday in a closed trial, Pettigrew was charged and sent to Azkaban for life." She handed him the paper. "Congratulations Harry!"
Harry grinned and held up the newspaper, where Sirius's exultant face was gleaming from the moving picture. He had his arm thrown around Lupin's shoulder and their images were dancing the can-can.
"Wish I could have been there," he said wistfully, pushing his plate aside to lay down the paper and gaze at the photo.
Ron clapped his large hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sure he wanted you to be there, mate," he said.
"They probably felt that you being there would hurt his trial more than help," Hermione added regretfully. At both the boys' looks, she shrugged. "It's not like the Minister or the Wizengamot likes you very much right now. It'd be hard enough to let Sirius off after everything they've said about him in the press over the last two years, let alone if you were there rooting for him."
Harry bit his lip, acknowledging that she had a point. He only got off in his trial because Dumbledore brought in all that proof. Fudge had been more than willing to crucify him on hearsay.
"And besides," Hermione said, raising her chin, "the trial took the whole week and we had classes. Imagine how much you would have missed!"
Ron and Harry exchanged a look before breaking out into guffaws, much to Hermione's consternation.
"Don't ever change, Hermione," Harry said between chuckles. At Hermione's glare, the boys ducked their heads into their breakfasts.
A moment later, Ron crowed, drawing their attention to the head table. "Look at Umbridge's face!"
Sure enough, the Defense professor was a bright red, her fingers practically shredding her copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry brightened as spittle flew from her lips and the bow on her head slipped sideways.
"Snape looks a bit upset too," Harry said mildly, enjoying the sour curl of Snape's lips. He looked like he'd been forced to swallow a lemon whole.
Ron glanced over and chortled. "I wish I had a camera!" he said. "Sirius would love to see his face."
Harry agreed and fixed the image in his mind to describe to Sirius later.
"Potter," a stern voice called their attention. The three teens looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing just behind Hermione. "I trust the recent news will not distract you from your lessons?" The sparkle in her eye diffused the sting of her words.
"No, Professor," Harry said, a cheeky grin on his lips.
McGonagall turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger," she said, "I believe you misplaced this essay in my class the other day." She held out a roll of parchment to the girl. "Do keep a keen eye on your belongings." Her eye turned back to Harry for a beat. "I will not deliver them again."
"Of course, Professor," Hermione said confusedly, accepting the scroll. "Thank you."
The older woman nodded and swept out of the Great Hall.
"Is it your Potions essay?" Ron asked, his mouth full of toast and eggs.
Hermione shook her head. "I can't imagine what I dropped," she said quietly, unrolling the scroll. "I'm not missing any-" She paused, eyes wide.
"What is it?" Harry asked, leaning forward.
"Not here," she whispered, as she tucked it deep in her bag. "Come on, we'll be late to History," she added loudly.
Harry helped pull a reluctant Ron to his feet and the three of them left the Great Hall. Hermione led the way up the stairs, and once the crowd thinned, pulled them down an empty corridor.
"Hermione, History's the other way," Ron pointed out.
"I know," she whispered, pulling them into an abandoned classroom. She locked the door behind them and rummaged through her bag. "It's about the essay Professor McGonagall gave me."
Ron gave her a piercing look. "What about it?"
"It wasn't an essay," she said, directing her gaze at Harry. "It's a letter from Sirius."
His eyes widened, taking the scroll from her hand. Harry's hand shook slightly as he unrolled the parchment. Sure enough, Sirius' handwriting shone starkly on the page.
"Why didn't she just give it to me?" he wondered aloud, quickly glancing at the words.
Hermione bit her lip. "Umbridge," she said uncertainly. "Sirius may be free but Umbridge is still working for the Ministry. If they were to find out that you were in contact with Sirius before he was exonerated, Umbridge could try and charge you with aiding and abetting an alleged criminal." At their looks, she shrugged. "It's a theory, anyway. Look, the point is, she can't carry your letters anymore and we can't trust the owl post, so we'll just have to make do until Sirius can get in touch."
Harry sighed and clutched the letter. "At least I have this," he said, glancing at his friend. "Thanks Hermione."
"Not at all," she said, smiling back. The three of them stood in companionable silence for a moment. "Now, come on," Hermione added, jostling her book bag on her shoulder, "we'll be late to History if we don't hurry."
A/N: Wow, okay everyone! It's up! I honestly can't believe it and I'm sure many of you can't either. I seriously apologize for the wait and I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed and messaged me about this fic! Especially those of you who inquired about my progress on it.
I spent most of the last year or so working on getting my Master's degree, which I finally finished in May this year. I also started a new job in January, as a full-time teacher, so much of my creative writing time has gone into prepping lessons and grading. Sorry chaps, that's the life of an adult. Never thought I'd be one of those, honestly, but here we are!
Anyway, I've also been dividing my miniscule writing time between original projects. I completed my first original comic book (art and writing) earlier this year and I'm currently working on finishing the script for a second book. I also have my ongoing novels and other stuff in the works. Yeah, I'm busy and have a lot of pans in the fire. What of it?
So that's the reason why this is so late. Again, I'm very sorry for the delay! I do plan on getting at least a few more chapters in, as I have the plot roughly structured enough to get us through at least three more chapters. As I don't want to be facetious, there is a possibility I may not finish this with all the original projects I'm working. However, I will do my level best to make it not so.
At the very least, I plan to get through the material I've planned in detail, and then, if I do abandon the story, I will post an outline that describes where the story will go for those of you who are still with me at that point. As I've been left hanging on some amazing fics I've read over the years, I promise not to do the same for my readers.
Thanks for reading and staying with this story as long as you have! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (Please tell me if you did, as I just added a huge chunk today and didn't bother to edit it much, so I could get it out to you all!) I'll do my best to get the next bit up as soon as I can.
Cheers!
Gallatea