Chapter Title: Accumulated Dirt

Author: Sam

Story: Harry Potter and Dumbledore's Army: 02 / ?

Chapter Setting: Saturday, August 7, 1995: 12 Grimmuld Place, London

Chapter Summary: Another recall and Sirius is very unhappy.

Note:

Feedback: Please? I love comments.

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Cleaning? That was the big job for the Order expected of the teens? Harry frowned as he slowly reached for the open parlor door, listening intently to Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice.

"Thought I'd leave a report. And this one's reporting . . ."

A light friendly voice thick with a Scots burr greeted, "Hello, Sirius? Well . . ."

Sirius interrupted, "What the hell!" He didn't sound pleased in the least. "You're supposed to be dead, Stevie!"

"Hurry up, Harry," Molly called and regretfully Harry shut the door blocking further interesting tidbits from the hall.

It wasn't until they broke for lunch that Harry found out just who had given Sirius such an unpleasant surprise.

Molly carried in a plate of sandwiches as Sirius and Harry studied a tapestry of the Black ancestry lines. Behind the flustered redhead walked a medium built man with blond curls, a chubby round face, and intense, vibrant blue eyes. For a moment, Harry thought he was seeing a thinner, smiling version of Uncle Vernon. Blinking several times to clear the nightmarish vision, Harry realized the man in the dove grey jeans and Twisted Sister T-shirt couldn't possibly be his despised uncle . . . too thin, too athletic, and too friendly. Plus, he was dressed like an university student.

"Twisted Sister? What's that?" asked Ron, reaching for a sandwich and shoving more than a quarter of it into his mouth.

With a smile for the gorging redhead, the man replied "a muggle band."

"With a name like that?" asked Ginny, intrigued.

"Yeah. Rumor has it the bassist is a wizard in disguise." The man absently toyed with a grey and blue braided wristband.

"Everyone," Molly interrupted, "this is Stephen James. He'll be staying here for awhile while . . . things get sorted." She frowned softly and offered a sandwich to their newest member.

A low growl next to Harry alerted him to Sirius' dislike of Stephen James. Frowning, turning so only his godfather could hear him, Harry asked "what's wrong?"

"Stephen James," Sirius growled out, reminding Harry very much of Snuffles, Sirius' animagus dog half. "Doesn't belong here. Never fought, never bled for the Order. He ran and hid with his tail between his legs and never looked back . . . even for the funerals. Used to follow James and me around like a love-sick puppy, but did he even make a peep when James and Lily and every last Potter was hunted down?" Disgust making Sirius's already careworn face ugly, the older man turned back to study the tapestry intently. "I haven't looked at this thing in years," he changed the subject abruptly.

Harry took his cue from his godfather, unable to resist the bitterness Sirius's words conjured. First Dunraven, the auror who'd fled to the States, and now this Stephen guy, who'd hid while everyone was hunted down and murdered. The Order needed supporters, Harry knew, but what was Albus Dumbledore thinking asking these people to come back? Wouldn't they merely run away like before? Unable to get his mind around the distasteful concept, Harry began asking about the noble lineage of Black.

In the larger group, Hermione studied the unusually dressed blond man with a critical eye. Something about him seemed . . . off, but she couldn't figure out what – unless she counted his obviously youthful attire. Not that it looked bad on him, but Stephen looked to be in his thirties, so why would he dress more like the young Bill Weasley?

With a toss of her mass of bushy hair, the inquisitive girl asked "are you muggle-born, Mr. James?"

"Please, Stephen," the blond said with a grimace. He then offered a smile and let go of the braided wristband he'd been toying with since entering. "No, actually, I'm pureblood. Does that bother you?"

Snickers broke from the twins as Hermione gaped a bit. Gathering herself she said "you're familiar with muggles then?"

Stephen nodded and glanced over at Sirius with a suddenly sad look. "Yeah. Lived among them since I left school. I teach muggle teenagers science and maths."

Green eyes lighting, Ginny leaned forward. "But why wouldn't you be teaching wizarding children?"

"Don't need science?" Stephen asked back then grinned widely. "Actually, I was asked to teach them by a dear friend and promised I would. But now I'm to transfer to a wizarding school to teach. I've been told I'm needed much more there than back in Scotland."

"Hurry up you two," Molly called to Harry and Sirius, effectively cutting into all conversations, "or there'll be nothing left."

With a small frown, Hermione asked "but . . . Stephen . . ." she felt odd using an adult's given name so freely, "if you've lived among muggles since your own schooling, how are you to know the latest improvements and breakthroughs of the wizarding community?"

"Yeah, mate, did they give you time out for good behavior?"

Molly puffed up at George's question, ready to scold the group into a semblance of ignorance to the real reasons Stephen must have been called in, but the man gave her a comforting smile and answered quite simply "Albus has been visiting on holidays to keep me up to date."

"Albus Dumbledore," muttered Ron incredulously around a huge bite of sandwich.

"Like you know of another?" Fred asked, giving his little brother a look that fully conveyed what an idiot the older boy felt the younger was being.

"Private holiday lessons with Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked as he and Sirius finally joined the others, taking the last two sandwiches from Molly's tray.

"Stephen's been getting private lessons from Professor Dumbledore so he can come teach at a wizarding school," Fred promptly answered, watching for Sirius' reaction. It hadn't gotten past the twins that there was something between those two.

Carefully Sirius lowered the sandwich he'd just taken a bite from. Swallowing the bread and filling, a look of purest disgust on his face, the dark-haired man ground out "Albus is letting you teach?"

"I'm not too bad," Stephen answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "I've taught muggles for years."

That seemed to be the very wrong thing to say as Sirius slapped down the uneaten portion of his sandwich onto the tray and stiffened indignantly. "I've lost my appetite," he claimed then strode from the room.

Everyone, including Harry, stared after him, stunned, food forgotten. Several long minutes passed and finally Ginny asked "why doesn't he like you, Stephen?"

Even Molly seemed confused and looked to the blond for an answer.

Stephen sighed and began to toy with his wristband once more, fingers playing delicately over the grey and blue flosses. "When I was in school," he began after a very long pause, "I was five years behind him. I followed him and . . ." he swallowed and his vivid eyes slid away, staring at nothing, "James Potter around everywhere. If I got into trouble, James was there to pull me out again . . . my protector if you will." Stephen seemed to slump in on himself.

Harry hung on every word, intent on this new source of information about his parents. Sirius might not approve of the man for hiding from Voldemort, but that didn't stop Stephen from having information Harry desperately wanted.

"When I left school," Stephen continued, "I went to stay with a squib and his family in a very wizard-free town. I had no contact with wizards except Albus Dumbledore." Stephen turned back to the others, raw pain in his eyes. "I guess Sirius blames me for not being here all these years."

Harry opened his mouth to ask about Sirius' words of that morning . . . about Stephen supposedly being dead, but Molly stood abruptly and grabbed the tray.

"Lunch is over. We've got those cabinets to tackle. I'll go hunt . . . uh . . . fetch Sirius and we'll begin." She looked over the group then, probably to prevent questions, she said "Stephen, you come with me . . ."

"But I haven't finished yet," groaned Ron.

Ignoring her youngest son, Molly headed out of the parlor. Stephen nodded mutely and followed at her heels.

Hermione frowned, doing some quick mental arithmetic. "Well, if he's five years behind, it would have made him a second year when Sirius graduated. By the time Stephen got out of school it was too late to help wasn't it?" She turned to Harry.

He reluctantly followed her lead and did the sums in his head. Slowly he said "yeah, you're right. Stephen would have just been out of school when I was born." What Harry kept to himself was the idea that Stephen had an entire year to have helped the Order after school instead of running off to hide among the muggles. Just as soon as he had that thought, Harry realized how unfair it was. His own parents had been hiding when they'd been attacked and murdered. 'So,' a little voice asked inside himself, 'what makes Stephen so guilty of cowardice if your own mum and dad hid too?'

To that, Harry didn't have an answer.

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To be continued in Chapter Three: Powerful News