No idea how it happened, but this chapter is actually close to 10k...I hope you have some time. ;)
alix33: Sorry about the broomstick...but it was super old, after all. (And I needed the tension, obviously...) I wouldn't blame Dumbledore for not giving Sirius a trial, as it was clearly Crouch's call. He did not intervene, true, but to be fair neither did Remus or anybody else, so blaming him personally for it seems a bit harsh. One could argue that he benefitted from it, as it meant he could put Harry into Privet Drive, but as I said before I'm not planning to make this a bashing fic, so I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
CaseLC: It is, but I first read that in GoT, so that's where I got it from. Didn't know Martin had also stolen it somewhere. About the werewolf, I think there is a little comment along those lines in the next chapter, but I plan to mostly stick to canon, i.e. the wolf is violent and destructive at all times.
paradoxed: Really sorry about that! I do take that approach to writing (for this fic, I'm actually over a week ahead of posting), but the AN I only add right before posting, and outside Word, which means there's no spellcheck. I'll be more vigilant from now on, thanks for the tip!
Enjoy the chapter :)
There be pirates here
It was quiet in the big house. Not really quiet, of course. There was an assortment of noises, squeaking, groaning, creaking...the breathing sounds of an old building. Before, Harry had barely noticed them. When he was with Sirius and Remus, sitting by the warm fire, laughing or talking or playing one of their exciting wizard games, there was nothing scary about the house at all. It was big, yes, but that only made it more exciting whenever Sirius or Remus went exploring with him. It was a bit dark in some corners, but that only made for interesting treasure hunts – he'd never know what he might find.
At night, however, the house seemed to transform, to grow darker – not just because there weren't any lights on; this was a darkness that he could actually feel on his skin – larger, alive. The sounds grew louder, more ominous. Was that just the wooden floor creaking or was it something growling? He remembered the dragons Sirius had mentioned existed. Would one fit in his wardrobe? He wished his godfather hadn't insisted on buying the bigger one... And was that Remus he could hear walking down the corridor or somebody else? A vampire, maybe? Dudley had once told him that vampires lived in cupboards, and that they ate anybody who dared walk into theirs. Was that also true for whole rooms? Had he inadvertently stolen the vampire's living quarters? Was the spurned creature coming to eat him?
And then there was that soft banging noise. Tock. Tock. Tock. It was like someone knocking...or the sound of someone walking with a wooden leg.
Red light. Shouting. A face like that out of a nightmare, charred and broken. And a bright glowing eye, burning into his soul...
Harry shot up, feeling sweat run down his back.
He's gone. He's gone. Sirius told you he can't get in here, he can't hurt you.
But he couldn't supress the low whimper escaping his mouth when he remembered that horrible incident three days ago. The worst thing was knowing that while he might not be able to get inside, the pirate wasn't gone. He was just outside their front door. He couldn't see him – Remus had explained to him that he was under an invisibility cloak – but he knew he was there. Watching. Waiting. For Harry.
Another door creaked. He wished he had a lamp, like in his cupboard back in Privet Drive. But apparently wizards, or at least this house in particular, did not have electricity. There were gas lights in the hallways and the bathrooms, although Harry was rather certain they worked with magic, and fireplaces in almost all the other rooms. Harry had a candle on his bed stand, but he didn't know how to light it with magic, and he always burnt his fingers if he tried to use matches. The light from the street lamps outside was shut out with heavy red curtains, because Harry hadn't like the idea of the blue-eyed pirate staring at him while he slept.
You just have to wait until it is morning. Surely it can't be long now; you've been lying here for hours...
Another series of steps, this time above him. What were Sirius or Remus doing up there? They hadn't cleaned out those rooms yet... Harry deeply regretted not having taken Remus' advice and slept in the hammock. A vampire would have a much harder time sneaking up on him there, suspended in the middle of the room.
He considered taking his blanket and making a run for it, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the relative safety of his bed, even at the prospect of another, more secure sanctuary. Who knew how fast that dragon in the wardrobe was.
Once more he wished they had never gone to the mall. Of course he was grateful for all the new things Sirius and Remus had bought him, and it had been exhilarating to have something that was just his for once, but he felt that he would gladly return to Dudley's baggy clothes if it meant that he could sleep on the sofa downstairs again, with Sirius and Remus' soothing breathing to remind him that he was safe.
A church bell sounded somewhere, and Harry strained to count its chimes. Two. He forced himself to close his eyes once more, willing himself to go back to sleep, but that only made the noises worse. With another whimper, he pulled the blanket over his head, trying to shut out the frightening house and its gloomy darkness. After a while, he slid back into his dreams, full of shadowy figures and evil eyes.
Harry was silent at breakfast the next morning, but while Sirius and Remus had usually tried to cheer him up and distract him the last few days, today they both kept rather quiet as well. The dreams were getting worse. Three days had passed since that terrible incident, and Harry's nightmares were growing darker every night. Even the days had gotten quieter, gloomier. Sirius had been very cheerful on the day after, setting up all the new furniture in Harry's room while Harry watched, trying to look enthusiastic. Remus on the other hand, while certainly friendly towards Harry, had been increasingly withdrawn, and once or twice Harry had seen him in the drawing room, sleeping on the sofa. He looked ill. Sirius' carefree demeanour had faltered somewhat as well as the days went on, and even though he still tried to occupy Harry, playing games or showing him photos of his parents, he didn't protest so much anymore when Harry declined and withdrew into his own room. Now that Harry thought about it, he looked rather frightened. As he watched Remus' gaunt expression, Harry wondered if Sirius and Remus had nightmares, too. But then he remembered that they were adults, and adults didn't have nightmares, did they?
Neither of them objected when Harry, having deposited his dishes in the sink, retreated back to his room. Like he had done the days before, Harry climbed into his hammock and picked up the book he had left there the evening before.
He had never been a great reader – there generally weren't many books in the Dursley home, and certainly none for children, as Dudley would rather stare at the ceiling for hours than opening one – but these past few days, he had increasingly taken a liking to it. Remus had set up one of the bookshelves from the library for him, and filled it up with all of his old children's books. There was still a lot of space on the shelf – "Don't worry, Prongslet, knowing Moony he'll have it filled up for you before winter," Sirius had grinned – but for now it was more than enough. There were both magical and normal books, as Remus had told him that his own mother had been a muggle, and while Harry had at first been fascinated by the moving pictures and the exciting new titles, he had now gone back to reading the more familiar, still books. There was something soothing about immersing himself into other worlds that, while mostly fictional, felt wonderfully mundane, treating magic as just that: fiction. For a few hours he could pretend that he was still just Harry and that t faceless crimson hunters and terrifying pirates only existed in stories. And stories, while sometimes scary, always ended well. There might be hardships, there might be tears, but at the end waited the promise of a happily ever after, the bad guys defeated and the good guys victorious. Real life was so much scarier.
"Harry?" His head shot up. He had been so absorbed by his book that he hadn't even noticed the door opening. Sirius stood in the doorway, a steaming mug in his hand and a cautious smile on his face. "Thought you might like some hot chocolate – don't worry, Remus made it." He grinned, but it could not hide the worry that creased his features. "Is everything alright?" he asked, stepping further into the room when Harry made no move to retrieve the chocolate.
Harry nodded hastily, not wanting to talk about pirates or nightmares. "Don't get up, you look comfortable," Sirius said quickly when Harry made to get out of his hammock, bridging the distance between them and handing him the mug. "What are you reading?" Harry held up the book for him, and Sirius frowned. "Charlie and the chocolate factory?" he read slowly, before a grin swept over his face. "Yeah, that does sound like a book Moony would own. What's it about?"
"Dunno," Harry mumbled, not looking at his godfather. "I only just started." It was technically not a lie – he had only read the first four or five chapters – but he also didn't feel like explaining it to Sirius. "Oh," his godfather made, and Harry winced to hear the disappointment in his voice. "I'll leave you to it then, shall I?" His tone was cheerful, but Harry thought it did not sound as sincere as it had before. He didn't look up, breathing with relief when he heard the door shut behind Sirius.
Harry stayed in his room most of the day. He came down for lunch to find Sirius alone in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot with his wand, a look of worried concentration on his face. "Remus's not well," he explained, "So you'll have to do with my cooking. I apologize in advance." While he was turned towards Harry, his wand still pointed at the pot, there suddenly was a horrible hissing noise, and steam erupted from the stove, followed by a pungent smell of burnt socks. "Shi-irt!" Sirius exclaimed, looking distinctly panicked now.
As he was still trying to salvage their lunch, or at least the pot, Remus came stumbling into the kitchen, evidently alerted by the terrible stench that had now engulfed the whole kitchen and was drifting into the hallway. Despite looking like he might drop dead at any moment he managed to clear the smoke with a flick of his wand and set about making a replacement lunch while Sirius alternated between apologizing profoundly to Harry and admonishing Remus for having left his bed.
Afterwards Harry retreated back to his room one more, but he couldn't quite concentrate on his book anymore. Remus had looked really sick. Harry remembered the blood that had stuck to his jumper after the pirate hat attacked them. At the time he had assured Harry that it was nothing, that he could heal it within seconds just like Sirius had healed Harry's knee.
But what if he had been wrong? If the pirate had cursed him somehow? He had gotten worse ever since, looking nothing like when he and Sirius had first shown up on the front steps of number four Privet Drive. Would he keep getting worse? Would he...die?
The book dropped into his lap as the frightening possibility hit him. Remus might not be his godfather, but Harry liked him just as much as Sirius. He didn't want him to die, not when he was one of the only two friends he had. Not when he had been injured because of Harry.
But they were wizards. They could fly, make people invisible, turn into dogs. Surely there was a cure for whatever the pirate had done to him?
But if there isn't...if he dies because of you...
Harry screwed his eyes shut, but the thoughts stayed. He's not going to die, he's not going to die, he's not going to-
Footsteps.
Above Harry.
They weren't Sirius' – his were louder – and Remus hadn't looked like he could climb so much as the stairs to the first floor, let alone wander around in the higher ones.
Fear gripped Harry once more, despite the fact that the sun hadn't even begun to set yet. Vampires didn't come out during the day, did they? But what about dragons? He forced the thoughts away. It wasn't night. He wouldn't be scared.
With fresh determination, he set his book aside, scrambling out of the hammock. There it was again, the sound of soft footsteps above him. An Oompa-Loompa, maybe? They weren't scary. A little weird, maybe, and certainly rather mean, but not dangerous.
He walked towards his door, opening it a crack and pausing once more, listening. It was silent. There was no light coming from under the door of the drawing room, so he suspected that Sirius and Remus were downstairs. Harry pondered his options.
He could go back to his hammock and try to read some more until it got dark, but if he was honest with himself he'd had done quite enough reading for now. He could go downstairs to see if any of the others wanted to play with him, but he didn't think he could stomach seeing Remus, not when he looked so terribly sick (because of you!), and he did not feel like pretending to be cheerful for Sirius.
And then, there were the strange noises coming from upstairs. Would he dare to investigate? He had been told not to go upstairs on his own, as there were still many rooms that were only superficially cleared. Another sound, this time that of a door creaking open. And was that a voice he heard?
Slowly, holding his breath while trying not to make a sound, Harry slipped out of his bedroom, casting a cautious glance in the direction of the stairs. But the hallway below lay empty, and the only sound was that of the wireless down in the kitchen. He turned around, facing the next set of stairs that led upwards.
Hesitantly, he stepped towards it, wincing when the first step groaned beneath his foot. But everything stayed quiet, and after a few moments his heartbeat normalized somewhat, and he slowly continued. He didn't go very fast, pausing ever so often with to listen for the noises from upstairs. But the creaking stairs must've scared off whoever was making them, as the second floor remained eerily quiet.
Or maybe they were hiding? Getting ready to attack him the moment he appeared?
Harry paused. He should probably get Sirius...but he did not want to. He wanted to figure out whatever this was on his own.
It can't be anything too dangerous, he reasoned with himself, Sirius promised you this house was safe.
And while he might not have known Sirius for very long, Harry was very certain that his godfather would not lie to him. Omit some things, maybe, as Harry had sensed him doing occasionally, but not outright lie.
Assured by that conclusion, he set off once more, determined to find whoever was strolling through the hallways above. But before he even reached the second floor, there was the sound of a door opening, and music warbled from downstairs for a short moment, before it was slammed shut again. Startled by the sudden noise, Harry froze in his spot.
There were voices in the hallway now, as Sirius and Remus appeared to make their way from the kitchen. "Sure you're not going to tell me where you're going?" he heard his godfather ask. He sounded worried.
"Yes," Remus sighed, his voice just as tired as it had been at lunch, if not more so. "What's the point of telling you?"
"You might need patching up tomorrow! I've seen you the morning after, before we could stay with you. And you said yourself it's worse now."
Harry frowned, wondering what they were talking about. It had to be something bad; he'd rarely ever heard Sirius sound so worried. After a moment's hesitation, Harry dropped to his knees and slowly crouched forward until he could see through the banister. Craning his neck, he tried to make out the figures down in the hallway. They were standing next to the front door, with Remus leaning on the wall next to it and Sirius facing him, his arms crossed and a defiant look on his face.
"I've managed on my own for six years, you know," Remus was just saying, rubbing his face in a tired gesture. "I'll manage, I always do." He sighed once more, and after a short pause asked "What are you going to tell Harry?"
Harry ducked further behind the banister, try not to breath too loudly as he waited for his godfather's response. What were they talking about? It sounded like Remus was going away for some time. Maybe to get healed? But then why would he need patching up afterwards?
But he'd be going away.
Outside, where the pirate waited for them.
Panic gripped Harry, and he had to restrain himself from jumping up and begging Remus not to go. He almost missed Sirius' answer.
"Not sure...suppose with our current status, the old visiting sick relatives excuse won't work..." He chuckled. "I could always try the one about the badly behaved rabbit..." It had to be an inside joke, because despite his obvious exhaustion, a smile flickered over Remus' face at that.
"I'll just promise him that you'll be back safe and sound tomorrow," Sirius said, sobering. "And you will be, won't you? Can't have me breaking any more promises to him."
Remus snorted. "Blackmail now, is it?" He straightened, taking his coat off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders, with ginger movements that would have befitted a man thrice his age. "I promise," he relented, when Sirius kept staring at him. "I'll send you a Patronus as soon as I'm awake, mother. Try not to set the kitchen on fire again while I'm gone"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "No need to get all snarky, rabbit," he scoffed, although Harry could still hear the worry in his voice. "Just – take care," he said as Remus opened the door. Harry quickly scampered back a few steps and averted his eyes, for fear that the pirate might be there, waiting for him...
The door slammed shut, and only then he realized that Remus had left. His heart plummeted into his stomach.
No!
He must've made some sort of sound, because the next thing he knew steps ascended the stairs, not the soft ghostly ones he had been following, but the familiar stomping of his godfather. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, trying his hardest not to look suspicious.
Sirius seemed surprised to find him there, but no anger appeared on his face. There was a moment of stunned silence, and Harry wondered if his godfather knew that he'd been listening in. "What are you doing up here, Harry?" Sirius asked with a friendly smile.
"I Just..." Harry tried to come up with an excuse, not wanting to tell his godfather about the strange noises. In the end, he just gave up. "Where's Remus going?" he blurted, unable to keep the fear from his voice.
Sirius paused again, slowly bridging the distance between them until he was a few steps below Harry, on eye level now. "He just has to go away for a bit," he said hesitantly, and despite this vagueness, Harry was oddly relieved not to hear about any sick relatives (or nasty rabbits, whatever that had been about).
But he couldn't stop himself from prying further. "Why?"
"He-" Sirius started, a puzzled look on his face as he paused to rub the back of his neck, looking around the gloomy stairwell as if it might give answers. "He gets sick," Sirius finally said, gaze returning to Harry as the attempt of a smile crept onto his face. He looked very sad. Harry felt his heart hammer in his chest.
This is your fault. You made him sick, because he had to protect you, and now he's out there, with the pirate and the crimson hunters.
"Be-because of the man that attacked you?" he managed to ask, his voice trembling.
To his utter relief, Sirius quickly shook his head. "No, not at all. He could fix that easily. This is...he just gets ill occasionally," he explained, looking rather nervous as he stepped from one foot to the other. "But it's nothing too bad, he just needs to go away for a night, and then he'll get better. I promise."
Harry remembered the conversation he had just witness, and how worried his godfather had sounded, and he did not feel terribly convinced. But Remus had promised to come back, after all...
"Don't worry, Prongslet," Sirius said, his smile broadening somewhat as he climbed the last steps to draw Harry in a firm hug. "Moony's tougher than he looks. Did I tell you about the time he ate two pounds of chocolate in one day? We all thought he was gonna die, but he made it through, and even asked for more as soon as he had stopped puking!"
Normally Harry might have laughed at that story, but right now he felt far too miserable to give more than a half-hearted huff. Sirius withdrew, his hands still on Harry's shoulders as he fixed him with his warm grey eyes. "How about dinner? I think I've proven earlier that the only thing I should do in a kitchen is eat, but I'm sure we can come up with something. What do you say to muggle takeout? Do you like pizza?"
Harry felt himself stiffen has panic gripped him once more. "No!" he cried far more urgently than he had intended.
Sirius flinched, obviously not expecting such a strong reaction. "Oh...okay, no pizza. What would you like?"
Harry felt himself starting to tremble at the thought of Sirius going out there was well, to the pirate that wanted to take him away. "I'm not hungry," he lied, not meeting his godfather's eye. "I don't want anything."
There was a short pause as Harry felt his godfather's scrutinizing eyes on him, his hands still on Harry's shoulders. Harry kept his gaze locked to the ancient wood of the step he was standing on, refusing to meet the other's gaze.
"Why don't you want me or Remus to leave the house, Harry?" Sirius finally asked. His voice was different than before, calmer, more earnest. There was no laughter in it, only concern.
Harry didn't answer at once, his reluctance to talk battling the urge to keep Sirius from leaving. "Because of the pirate," he finally blurted, shocked at how weepy he sounded. "He'll hurt you again!" Tears were spilling down his face now, but her barely cared.
Remus would die. And Sirius would go, too, and then Harry would be alone, and the Dursley's would come and take him away, and he'd be locked into his cupboard again...
Arms wrapped around him, and he found himself lifted off the stairs as Sirius pressed him to his chest. "Shhh," his godfather made, and Harry vaguely felt himself being carried down the stairs. "He's not here, little one. He can't get inside, I promised you, remember?"
"B-But Re-Remus," Harry sobbed, not caring at all now that he sounded like a baby. He didn't want to lose Remus, fear crushing his chest like lead.
"He's far too clever to be caught by some pirate," Sirius said, "and he can apparate, remember? They won't even know he's left the house." They had reached the ground floor now, and Harry found himself deposited on the sofa, still on Sirius' lap. "You know how apparating works, don't you?"
Harry nodded, feeling his terror ebb somewhat as he remembered that exciting moment when Sirius had suddenly vanished one breakfast before appearing behind Harry with a plop, ruffling his hair so that he had dropped his toast with an embarrassingly girly scream. Sirius had explained to him that they couldn't appparate in or out of the house, but that the first step in front of the front door was also invisible, and that they could leave safely from there. He was right; the pirate probably hadn't even seen Remus. That thought comforted Harry a little. There were still tears rolling down his face now, and he still felt miserable, but at least he could stop shaking.
Sirius looked relieved at that, and the sparkling returned to his eyes as he craned his neck to look towards the windows, were the last rays of the setting sun were filtering through the curtains. "Tell you what," he told Harry in a conspiratorial tone after turning back towards him, "Why don't we just ask him? I don't think I've shown you this one before." He shifted Harry somewhat so he could reach his wand, before grinning at him. "One of my favourites," he said, before waving the wand and saying a few words that Harry by now recognized as a magic spell. "Expecto Patronum"
Something silvery and mist-like shot out of the tip of his wand, immediately forming into the shape of a large, scruffy dog that Harry instantly recognized. "That's you!" he exclaimed surprised, staring at the silvery white figure that was happily leaping across the room, sniffing the fireplace before returning to them, his tongue lolling. Despite its colour, its nose felt warm as it touched Harry's hand.
"It is," Sirius said, smiling fondly at the strange ghost. "A Patronus is some sort of spirit guardian, and it usually takes the form of your animagus form. It can defend you from dark creatures, but it's also quite useful to send messages." He waved his wand once more, and if told by an invisible command, the dog suddenly raced off, disappearing through the wall like a ghost.
Harry stared after him, completely enchanted. He didn't know why, but the ghost had made him feel better, safer. A spirit guardian, Sirius had called it. He wondered if it also protected him from pirates or dragons. "Where did it go?" he asked when the creatures did not return.
"I sent it to Remus," Sirius explained. "It won't be seen, don't worry. But it'll find him, wherever he is, and he can send his own in return. So we'll know that he arrived safely." Harry turned his head to the wall expectantly, eager to see more of the wonderful guardian. "Should be here any minute now," Sirius said cheerfully when nothing happened after a few seconds, but Harry thought that he could detect worry in his tone.
Fear returned once more, ugly and black. What if Remus wasn't alright? If the pirate had seen him after all? Or if he knew where he was going, and had been waiting for him there? What if Remus was already dead?
A cry of relief escaped his throat when the silvery light finally returned, rushing in through the closed curtains and hovering in front of them. Harry squeezed his eyes, trying to recognize what animal it was, but it seemed to be a rather shapeless cloud of white mist. Before he could ask Sirius about it though, a voice came out of the cloud, wonderfully familiar.
"I have arrived safely and without trouble. There is no trace of anybody following me. I will see you tomorrow." The mist started to dissolve, but before it had fully gone a second cloud came rushing in through the window. "And in case Sirius does set the kitchen on fire again, Harry, there's a bucket of water behind the door. You have my expressed permission to empty it over his head."
As the second guardian disappeared, Harry couldn't help but giggle at Remus' comment, despite the terror that had engulfed him moments earlier, and despite how worryingly tired the voice had sounded. Sirius huffed, mock-affronted, but soon was grinning again. "See? Told you he was fine, Prongslet."
Harry smiled cautiously, but now that the ghosts had vanished his bravery quickly faded, and he remembered his original fear. "But you're still not going out there, are you?" he asked timidly. "I'm really not hungry." That was a lie, but he would rather go to bed without dinner than see Sirius leave. It was something he had gotten used to, after all, so he could probably cope again.
The smile quickly faded from his godfather's face. "Not if you don't want me to," he said slowly, his eyes searching Harry's face as his brows furrowed in thoughts. "But I think I should at least show you how harmless it is." He pocketed his wand and straightened, setting Harry on his feet before getting up himself. "Come on, Prongslet."
Harry felt fear grip him once again as he realized where they were headed. "No!" he yelled panicked, rooting his feet on the ground as he felt Sirius' hand pull on his.
His godfather paused. "I promise you it'll be safe, Harry," he set, meeting his gaze firmly. "And I won't make you step across the threshold. But I don't think you quite understand how safe we really are in here."
Harry's heart still fluttered in panic, but Sirius' warm grey eyes and his encouraging smile at least made him move his feet, and he reluctantly stumbled into the gloomy hallway after his godfather.
The gas lights burnt, but the light they gave off wasn't very bright, and it flickered like that of a candle. While usually he just found it exciting, now the gloomy atmosphere only strengthened the dread he felt, and Harry felt torn between pressing closer to Sirius and running away from him, as he was dragging him mercilessly towards the front door.
"Please don't," Harry whimpered when Sirius drew his wand once more, remembering the pirate and the burning eye. The hand around his tightened, and he felt himself pulled closer to his godfather. "Just one moment, Prongslet," Sirius promised. "And after that you'll never have to look outside again if you don't want to."
He tapped his wand to the doorknob, and there was a series of clicking and rattling noises as several layers of security were unlocked. After the last click there was silence, in which Harry swore he could hear his own heart hammer in his chest.
"Trust me," Sirius said, and opened the door.
Harry instinctively squeezed his eyes shut as the first beams of light crept through the opening crack, but he could feel the warmth of the setting sun on his face, and hear the sounds of cars in the distance. He held his breath, expecting shouting at every moment, the growling of the pirate, the bangs of coloured, deadly light.
Nothing came.
"Open your eyes, Prongslet," he heard Sirius tell him, and slowly, reluctantly, he did, half-hiding behind Sirius. It took him a moment to get used to the brighter light, but when he did, the square was empty of any pirates or glowing eyes. There was a cat walking past the iron fences that separated the houses from the street, and between the trees in the middle of the square he could glimpse the two crimson figures, but apart from that it was eerily quiet.
Harry stared at the crimson people. They had been shouting, too, and running towards him. Not as terrible at the pirate, maybe, but they were still scary. He moved further behind Sirius.
"They can't see us," his godfather told him, taking a step forwards so that he was standing out on the first front step, much to Harry's horror. But the crimson figures, much to Harry's surprise, did not even flinch.
They can't see us.
Sirius turned around to him, grinning slightly. "See?" He raised his arm, waving to them. "Oi, you there!" he shouted, making Harry jump. "Think you can hunt down little boys?" One of the two scratched their head; the other kept reading his newspaper.
And they can't hear us, either.
Harry felt his terror ease a little. If the pirate was there, hidden under his magic cloak, he was obviously clueless that his prey was right in front of his nose.
Maybe Sirius' is right. Maybe he and Remus simply are smarter than the evil people.
His godfather gave one last wave towards the cat, wich was just as undisturbed as the crimson figures, before returning inside and closing the door behind him. "See? Wasn't so bad now, was it?" he asked, smiling.
Harry shook his head. "No." He still felt his heart hammering in his chest, but the choking panic had at least gone away. He even felt a little bit proud of himself. "What about the pirate?" he still asked as they made their way back to the study, remembering his nightmares. "Was he there?"
Sirius shook his head. "I don't think so. Did you see the cat? That was an Animagus, like me. Her name's Minerva McGonagall, and she works for Dumbledore. She is also in the Order."
Harry frowned. "The Order? But weren't those the good guys? You said my parents were in it!" The idea of his parents and the terrible pirate being on the same side was rather alarming.
Sirius hesitated. "They were," he finally nodded, sitting down once more and motioning for Harry to do the same. The look on his face told Harry that he was about to say something serious.
"I want you to know," Sirius began, "that the people out there are not the bad guys." Seeing Harry's mouth open in protest he quickly added. "Dumbledore wants what is best for you. They all do. Even the pirate."
"But he tried to kill you!" Harry exclaimed, shuddering as he remembered the terrible lights and crashes. "He hurt Remus!"
Sirius winced. "He was trying to protect you," he explained hesitantly. "They – the Order – think that Remus and I kidnapped you. They think I'm a bad guy, remember? That's why they're out there; they're trying to save you."
Harry frowned. The idea that anybody – let alone someone as terrifying at the scarred pirate – would set out to save him, a scrawny little boy who had been abandoned for most of his life, was rather bewildering, and maybe a little bit scary.
"Is that why they were there before?" he asked after a short pause, remembering the strange people who had lurked around Privet Drive the week before his godfather had arrived. "Before you came. The pirate was there, once. And the cat, I think." He wondered why the pirate hadn't attacked him back then. It was hard to believe he was really a good guy, despite what Sirius said.
Sirius nodded. "Yes. They were watching you, in case...well, in case I came by to try and hurt you. Remus was there, too, once or twice. He didn't know I wasn't evil then."
Harry's eyes grew big. "Remus was there?" he asked, feeling an odd mixture of warmth and disappointment rush through him. "Why...why didn't he say hello?" As comforting as it was to know that Remus had been there was well looking after him, not only strange and frightening people, he couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt knowing that Remus had been so close and never even showed himself to Harry.
Sirius paused. "Dumbledore's orders, I suspect," he said after a moment. "He wanted to keep you away from the wizarding world, because he thought it would be safer. Remus did want to meet you," he added quickly, when Harry still looked doubtful. "He just thought you were happy with your Aunt and Uncle, and didn't want to take it away from you. He loves you very much, Prongslet."
"Oh," Harry made, feeling a little bit ashamed of himself for having doubted Remus so quickly. Even more so when he remembered how sick he was right now, and how it still might be Harry's fault, whatever Sirius said.
"The point is, they're not evil people," Sirius continued, taking out his wand while he was speaking and pointing it towards the half-emptied boxes that where still littering the floor. "They are brave and kind and mean well; they just don't know the truth. You don't have anything to fear from them, Harry."
As he watched in fascination how a leather-bound book shot out of one of the boxes and flew towards Sirius outstretched hand, Harry wondered how that could be true when the Order wanted to take him back to the Dursleys. He'd rather have his shoulder cut open like Remus had than go back there.
"I think I should show them to you," Sirius said, opening the book, which Harry recognized as one of Remus' photo albums. It looked different than the one he had seen before though, newer. He glimpsed a few pictures of his parents as Sirius leafed through it, but his godfather didn't stop at them, instead opening a page which only held a single large picture. It was a group photo, several rows of people standing behind each other, like they had had to do in school once a year when the photographer had come to take pictures of them. As he looked at the strange faces, Harry wondered if the grown-ups in them had been forced to say "cheese" as well. Then he remembered that magic pictures moved, and that it would probably look ridiculous.
"That's the Order of the Phoenix," Sirius explained. "There's your Mum and Dad, see?" he pointed towards two figures towards the edge of the frame, half-obscured by an enormous man with a wild beard who looked like he might be an actual giant. Harry felt his stomach contract in the now familiar mix of excitement and sadness as he gazed upon their faces. He had only ever seen one picture of his mother back at the Dursleys, and that had been taken when she was still a girl. It took some getting used to seeing so many photos of them – moving ones at that.
"That's you, isn't it?" he said in an effort to change the topic, noticing the man next to his father. He looked indeed like Sirius, though far younger. "Your hair's short." Having gotten quite used to his godfather's shoulder-length curls, seeing him with his black hair barely reaching past his ears was rather odd.
Sirius grinned vaguely. "Yeah...that was your Mum, actually. I lost a bet to her."
Harry would very much have liked to hear the full story from that, but Sirius already moved on. "That's not what I wanted to show you, though," he motioned for the people on the frame to make room so others could move into sight. Harry felt his blood run cold, and instinctively ducked his head behind Sirius' shoulder, away from the photo.
The pirate was younger as well; his hair was not completely grey, and his nose appeared to be whole. What was most striking was the two normal eyes; no blue, glowing orb of horror. But it was unmistakably him, the claw-footed wooden leg, the furrowed brows, the heavy cloak.
He was there. Standing in the same room as my parents, as Sirius. Smiling with them.
Though to be fair, the pirate wasn't smiling like the rest of him, but looking rather unhappy to be there. "He was in a terrible mood that day," Sirius said as if guessing Harry's thoughts. "Called it a waste of time and a gift to our enemies should a copy of the photo fall in the wrong hands. Making us all identifiable and such. He's a bit mental, Moody."
The way he talked about him, it sounded like he was remembering an old friend, a strange, mad friend maybe, but ultimately there was fondness in his voice.
Staring at the pirate's deep frown, Harry wondered how the other people in the photo looked so calm standing next to him.
"He's harmless, really," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair. "Your Dad and I actually made fun of him after, and he turned us into ferrets – " he turned a page, and Harry's eyes grew big as he found himself looking as a picture of two identical white ferrets. One of them was trying to climb into some woman's lap – his mother, Harry realized as he recognized her robes from the picture before – while the other appeared to be biting down hard on some shoe.
"That's Remus," Sirius explained with a chuckle as if being turned into a small mammal was no big deal – and maybe it wasn't, given he could turn himself into a dog whenever he wanted – "He actually still owns those shoes, and the hole's still there." Realizing that Harry wasn't laughing, he quickly added, "Moody turned us back after a few minutes, of course."
Harry merely nodded, looking back at the larger picture. He realized Remus was there as well, looking significantly younger – there was barely any grey in his hair, and he seemed to have less scars – and the man with the purple cylinder that he had run into back at Privet Drive.
The Order of the Phoenix.
The good guys.
"I know he seems scary," Sirius said warmly after a short pause, closing the book and gingerly setting it aside. "I certainly was a little bit freaked out when I first met him, and he didn't even have the evil eye back then." He pulled one leg onto the sofa, turning so that he was facing Harry. "But the point is, Prongslet, none of them want to hurt you. And even if they did, Remus and I would never let them."
His warm grey eyes, so full of promise, of safety, finally drove the rest of Harry's doubts away, and he felt the suffocating dread lift completely. He knew that tonight, the nightmares would probably return, but at least he could keep them at bay during the day.
He felt himself smile.
"Excellent. Now, what do we do about dinner?" Sirius said with obvious relief, ruffling Harry's hair once more before rising to his feet with a grin. "Do you think between the two of us we can manage a piece or two of toast?"
As if in answer, Harry's stomach grumbled, and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He nodded eagerly, following Sirius into the kitchen. And laughing when he actually found a small bucket of water perched beside the fireplace.
That reminded him of the spirit guardians, and as he watched Sirius rummage around the cabinets to find the bread, he wondered, "Why wasn't Remus' spirit an animal? You said everybody had their own form. Is it because he can't change into his?"
Sirius reappeared from the depths of the kitchen cabinet, banging his head as he straightened and muttering an angry curse. "Oh," he said thoughtfully once he had inspected the back of his head, and apparently found no serious damage, and gave Harry an odd look. Once again, Harry had the feeling he was debating with himself what to tell Harry.
"I dunno," he finally said in a cheerful tone, turning once more to look for something to roast the toast in. "Most wizards still manage to conjure their form. Maybe his Patronus form is a jellyfish? It looked a bit like one, don't you think?" he suggested once he had settled on a rusty looking pan, and experimentally started tapping the buttons on the stove with his wand.
"A jellyfish?" Harry repeated incredulously. After hearing about a stag, a dog, a cat and even a rat, he'd have expected something more...well, Remus. If someone as intelligent and kind as Remus was a jellyfish, what would his own Patronus look like? A mental image appeared in his head of a silvery slug floating through the air, but before he could ask further, Sirius just shrugged.
"I never asked him. But it would explain why he didn't become an Animagus, wouldn't it? Not very useful, being all slimy." he mused, wincing as a flame erupted from the tip of his wand, narrowly missing his face. But apart from that short flinch he didn't react, and Harry suspected that flames like that were frequent occurrences with his cooking. He surreptitiously moved closer to the bucket by the fireplace, just in case.
"What do you want on your toast?" Sirius asked after a few minutes of concentrated frying – or burning, judging by the smell, but Harry hoped he was hungry enough to ignore the black edges. Or maybe he could just smother them until he couldn't taste them anymore.
"Jam, please," he said, moving forwards to retrieve it from a shelf; but before he could to so Sirius had already swung his wand and the glass came rushing down on its own accord, towards his outstretched hand. Right at Harry's head.
With a yelp, he dove to the side, his elbow painfully colliding with a chair, but at least avoiding having his head smashed in by a piece of bread spread. "Oh, SH-irt! I'm sorry, Harry, are you alright!?" Sirius rushed over to him, helping him to his feet with a rather panicked look on his head.
Harry nodded, more shocked than hurt. "Yeah, 'm fine..."
Magic, he decided, definitely takes some getting used to.
Still looking rather guilty, Sirius deposited the jam on the table and moved to fetch some plates – by hand, this time – before a slow grin crept onto his face. "I must say, Prongslet," he said as he shoved the less burnt pieces on Harry's plate, "That was some seriously good dodging. You're gonna be one hell of a Quidditch player one day."
That was the third or fourth time that Harry had heard that word, yet he still had no idea what it meant. So he decided to ask.
Sirius stared at him, his toast falling out of his hand half-way to his mouth. "Blood-I mean buggerin- I mean...blimely! Have we honestly not yet told you what Quidditch is!?" He seemed amazed and annoyed with himself at the same time.
The rest of the night they spend talking about Quidditch – or listening, in Harry's case – as his godfather explained the game to him, and told tales of what a brilliant player his father had been. Harry couldn't quite make his mind up about the sport itself – while he had quite enjoyed flying with Sirius, it sounded rather brutal, being attacked by cannon balls – but hearing about his father, and seeing pictures of a young James Potter whizz through the sky in scarlet red robes drove every last thought about scary pirates and evil eyes from his mind.
That was, until it was time for bed.
Harry's eyes had been dropping for quite some time now, but the idea of going back to his dark room on his own was rather unsettling, no matter how nice the pirate was supposed to be. There were still dragons and vampires to consider, after all.
And so it did not fill him with enthusiasm when Sirius' glanced towards the small alarm clock that had taken up residence on the big, broken grandfather clock and sighed. "I think it's time for bed, Prongslet," he said, setting aside the old newspaper cutting that had a picture of Harry's father winning some school tournament. "Remus'll kill me if he comes back and learns I've been keeping you up all night."
Harry ducked his head. "We...We don't have to tell him," he tried hopefully, not quite meeting his godfather's eyes.
Sirius looked at him scrutinizing, and for a moment Harry thought he was actually considering his suggestion. "Oh, I think he'd find out," he finally said with a half-smile. "He's devilishly tricky to lie to, I'm afraid."
"Oh," Harry made, gaze dropping. I suppose I can try sleeping in the hammock. Maybe that really is safer. Or maybe I could ask Sirius if he could conjure that spirit guardian for me...
"But I think we can find some compromise," Sirius already continued, rising to his feet and dragging Harry with him. "What do you say to a sleepover, Prongslet?"
Harry stared at him "A...a sleepover?" Dudley had had those a few times, when one or two of his friends had come to stay overnight. Harry had always hated those days, because Dudley's friends had found it incredibly strange and funny that Harry lived in a cupboard, and enthusiastically joined his cousin in stomping up and down the stairs in order to make dust rain on his head.
But those friends had lived somewhere else, not in the same room. Dudley had never had a sleepover with Uncle Vernon, for example – the thought alone made Harry giggle.
But he had wished himself back into the study to sleep with Sirius and Remus last night, hadn't he?
"Only if you want to, of course," Sirius said quickly. "My bed's quite large enough for two. If you don't mind sharing with a dog."
Without hesitating further, Harry quickly nodded. "Yes, please."
Sirius' smile broadened. "Go on, then," he told Harry, moving towards the stairs. "Put on your pyjamas and I'll make us some hot chocolate – or maybe just fetch chocolate." Harry, who could still taste the burnt toast in his mouth, nodded again. As ungrateful as it made him feel, he'd rather not try his godfather's attempt at hot chocolate.
Ten minutes later, he was lying in a large, wooden bed with a carved headboard, safely tucked beneath the scarlet duvet. And staring down at the coloured little packet that Sirius had handed him.
Chocolate Frog, it said.
"They're not...real, are they?" he asked timidly.
Sirius laughed as he dropped down beside him, his won already half opened. "Merlin, no! They're just bewitched." He opened the wrapper and pulled out a piece of frog-shaped chocolate for Harry to inspect. Harry flinched back as the frog suddenly started twitching and trashing in Sirius's grip.
It looked very real.
Seeing his horror, Sirius hastily said, "Really, Prongslet, they're not actually alive. Remember that teapot? There's spells that can make anything move, but that doesn't mean it's actually living. Here." He pulled his wand and tapped it to the frog, which immediately stopped moving. "It's not a very strong spell, it wears off after a minute or so," he said, putting the chocolate in his mouth. "Or if you bite off their head."
Harry looked down at the sweet wrapper in his hands, wondering if the possibly burnt hot chocolate might have been the smarter choice after all. Biting off a moving frog's head – alive or not – sounded rather horrifying.
"You don't have to eat it," Sirius said, examining a small card that had fallen out of his wrapping. "Most people only buy them for this, anyway." He held the card up for Harry to see. It showed a dark-haired woman with a sharp face, who was smiling somewhat strained at him. Gonerill Gushweed, it said below the picture.
"Cards of famous wizards and witches," Sirius explained, "There's hundreds of them to collect. Although these days they don't seem to take the 'famous' part very seriously. No idea who she's supposed to be." He turned the card around to examine the backside, which, Harry now saw, held a short paragraph of text, probably explaining the witch's claim to fame. Sirius made a face. "British Gobstone champion?" he said incredulously. "That's enough?" He shook his head incredulously. "At that rate, I'll manage to get in after all." He grinned to Harry, "Lifelong dream of mine," he explained. "Get into the chocolate frog cards."
Harry giggled, imagining how funny it would be to open a piece of sweets and have his godfather grin back at him. Encouraged by that thought, he decided to be brave and open his own chocolate frog after all. It tried to escape but Harry quickly grabbed it, albeit gingerly, watching with a mixture of fascination and unease as the frog struggled and twitched until it finally froze.
"It's not poisonous," Sirius said when Harry made no move to eat it. "It's actually surprisingly good. Or not surprisingly, given I stole this from Moony, and he only ever eats the finest chocolate. Maybe not tell him I took them, by the way," he added as an afterthought when Harry finally bit off the frog's head – Sirius hadn't been lying, it did taste wonderful – "He can get a bit touchy when it comes to his chocolate... Who'd you get?"
Swallowing the last bite of his frog, Harry eagerly took out the card. It showed a man with a very long, crooked nose wearing half-moon spectacles. He had long silver hair and a beard that seemed to reach to his belt. Now that's a proper wizard, was Harry's first thought. Then he read the name.
"What's- oh." Sirius fell silent as he looked over Harry's shoulder and realized who he was holding, but quickly caught himself, and grinned. "Good one, for your first card. You should start collecting them."
Harry didn't answer, still looking down at the man who was hunting him.
The good guys.
The man who had sent him to live with his aunt and uncle.
Had he known what it would mean for Harry? Had he known they were making him live in cupboard?
The good guys.
He set the card on the nightstand, quickly swallowing the last of his chocolate. It didn't taste half as good as it had before, the sweet taste turning to ash in his mouth. "I don't think I want to collect them," he said quietly, looking at his lap.
Before he knew it, he felt strong arms wrap around him, and suddenly found himself in a bear hug by his godfather. "Don't think about it, Prongslet," Sirius said, his voice tickling the top of Harry's head. "He just did what he thought best. He was wrong, obviously, and if I ever get a chance I'll definitely tell him so, but he did it to protect you. They all care about you very much. Just as Remus and I do."
Harry didn't feel quite convinced – Remus and Sirius had rescued him, after all, unlike Albus Dumbledore or the blue-eyed pirate – but the safe embrace and soothing voice worked, and he felt himself getting a little less upset. "I like you and Remus a lot better," he still proclaimed, earning himself a chuckle from Sirius.
"I like you a lot better than I do Moody or Dumbledore as well, Prongslet," he said, before releasing him. "Now I'm afraid I'll have to send you off to brush your teeth again, or Remus really will hex me." Harry giggled and slowly crawled out of bed, wincing when his bare feet came into touch with the cold floor.
It wasn't the cold that made him practically run across the hallway to the bathroom though, but the silent darkness that had once again engulfed the house. Evil pirate or not, he was rather glad he would spend the night safely with Sirius.
When Harry came back, Sirius was standing in front of a dresser, his back turned towards him as he turned something in his hands. As Harry got closer, he realized that it was a stuffed toy, an animal of sorts.
"I found this," Sirius said, turning towards Harry and showing it to him. It was brown, had four legs and antlers. It was a...
"It's a reindeer, actually, but we couldn't find a stag," Sirius said with a slight smile, walking over to the bed and setting the toy down in front of Harry. "Your Dad and I bought it when we were in school, as a joke. He had a dog, and I the stag. So we would always have our little versions of Prongs and Padfoot."
Harry stared at the toy, not daring to touch it. It looked old and rather battered, patches of fur missing and one antler bent in the wrong direction. And it clearly wasn't a stag – it even had a red nose, apparently a Christmas toy originally. And yet, looking at it, Harry couldn't help but hold his breath.
Dad.
Of course it wasn't his Dad, it was just a toy, and it hadn't even belonged to his father. And yet, it had symbolized him – and he had helped buy it, after all. For a moment he tried to imagine the scene, the younger versions of Sirius and his father that he had seen in photos strolling through a muggle toy shop, laughing as they searched for their plush alter egos. So caught up in his little day dream was he that he almost missed Sirius' next words.
"You can have it, if you'd like to."
His head whipped up, his mouth falling open. "I-are you- I can..."
Sirius smiled, looking a little sad as he did so, and gently put the toy in Harry's hands. "It should be yours, Prongslet," he said warmly, climbing under the covers himself. "I've held on to it for long enough. And I've got you to cuddle now, haven't I?"
He grinned as he hugged Harry once more, pulling him towards him and started to tickle him. Harry shrieked with laughter, desperately trying to free himself while at the same time taking great care not to drop his new treasure.
When his godfather finally relented they lay breathless for a while, the stag firmly pressed to Harry's belly to protect him from further attacks.
Then he remembered what Sirius had said. "My Dad's name was Prongs?" he asked cautiously. He knew about Remus' and Sirius' nicknames of course, but he had never thought about how his father surely had had one of his own.
Next to him, Sirius nodded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Yeah," he answered, smiling his sad smile once more. "That's what we called him. 'Cos of his antlers, you know?"
"Is that why you call me Prongslet?" Harry asked further. He had wondered about the name before, although he had never dared asked. An even though he hated to admit it, he rather liked having a term of endearment just for himself, spoken out of affection, not like the "boy" he was used to from the Dursleys.
Sirius turned around so that he was facing him. "Yeah," he said again, his smile growing a little brighter. "That's what we all called you when you were born – well, your Dad, Remus and me, anyway. I think your Mum was a bit afraid we'd turn you into a troublemaker like we had been...I can stop if you don't like it," he added quickly, worry clouding his face.
But Harry hastily shook his head, so vigorously he actually lost his glassed. "No!" Blushing a little when he realized how much like a baby he sounded he added a little calmer, "It's fine, really, I ...I think I like it."
It was true. Nice as it had been to have his own nickname before, knowing where it came from – knowing that it was his father who had given it to him – made it so much more precious. He didn't care that he was maybe a little bit old to be called by his baby name, and that he had always thought it sounded ridiculous when Aunt Petunia had called Dudley by one of his many pet names.
And when Sirius smiled and ruffled Harry's hair and said, "Alright then. Sweet dreams, Prongslet" he felt nothing but warmth run through him that had nothing to do with the thick blanket, or even Sirius arm wrapped around him.
The boy slept peacefully that night, the stuffed reindeer firmly tucked under his arm, and a large black dog paw slung around his shoulder. No dragons crept from the wardrobes of his mind, and the vampires stayed in their cupboards, contend. The dog, too, was safe from nightmares tonight; the darkness of Azkaban for once subsided, kept at bay by the fragile little pup safely tucked to its chest, the pup that was its own in all but blood.
Outside, the silvery light of the full moon filtering through his invisible form, stood the pirate, his watchful blue eye firmly staring at the house he could not see. Waiting. Lurking. Powerless.
Sorry about all that gloom, but I hope I made up it in fluff at the end ;)
Not sure why it got so long, as nohing really happens, but I didn't want to cut it up, so I just decided to post it like this.
Next chapter might be a whole week away, as I'm nearing the end of my Bachelor thesis (one more month to go!) and might be short on time to write. I've got enough back-up for to manage one update a week until August, but I might drop the Wednesday one in order not to run out before. Sorry!
