Chapter 4
To Headquarters
Harry stumbled as his trainers made contact with the cracked cement of a run-down muggle neighborhood in a part of London Harry had never been to, but he was sure Aunt Petunia would have never stepped foot in. Remus' firm grip stopped Harry from floundering too horribly and gave him a chance to get his wits about him.
The neighborhood was made up of old townhomes, standing four stories high, with dirty windows staring down at the even dirtier street where Harry and Remus stood. There were garbage bins on the curb, overflowing. The sidewalk was cracked and weeds had grown tall between the chunks of cement, far more healthy looking than the small patches of grass below each stoop. Loud music rattled the uppermost windows of number 11, immediately to his left.
As his eyes slid down the row of once grand, now decrepit brick facades, Harry had to blink. Ballooning out from between two of the grimy houses was one made from black stone, with an intricate wrought iron gate with a golden '12' barring them entrance.
"Welcome to Headquarters" Remus muttered before pushing the gate open and striding quickly up the front steps. Harry hurried quickly after him, still peering at the out of place, rather stately home that had clawed its way into existence in front of him.
Remus hadn't made it quite to the front door before it was flung open and a large mass of fur bowled past him and nearly took Harry off his feet.
"Siri-Snuffles!" Remus protested, regaining his footing on the top step of the marble staircase.
The massive dog was licking Harry's ears, his tail wagging madly.
Grinning, Harry wrestled the dog's paws from his shoulders and threaded his fingers through his godfather's fur to scratch at his ears.
Sirius gave a contented sigh and nosed Harry's hand for a better angle at which to scratch.
"Inside! Hurry up!" A voice commanded from inside the door. Molly Weasley stood holding the door open with a disapproving glare aimed at the giant dog still wagging its tail.
Not wanting to displease the stern Weasley matriarch, all three hurried to comply, piling in through the door before she snapped it shut.
As soon as Mrs. Weasley turned the bolt behind them, Sirius stood upright, a human once again, and pulled Harry into a hug, clapping him heartily on the back.
"I told you to keep your nose clean!" The older man pulled away and held Harry at arms' length, blue eyes searching him for any sign of injury or distress. "Though I bet you got the best of those dementors- after your third year! Two should have been no problem! A chip off the old block, James would have been proud!" Another clap on the back hid Harry's wince at his godfather's praise.
Harry didn't feel as though his misadventure deserved such praise from Sirius- or anyone really. He was acutely aware that he had come disastrously close to losing his wand and place at Hogwarts, if not his soul. Remembering the way that he struggled to produce a Patronus made Harry shiver.
And then there was Dudley, who might be a bully, but who had been terrified and helpless against an evil that he couldn't even see, let alone understand…
"Come on, I'm sure you're hungry- into the kitchen! It's just this way!" Sirius steered Harry across the flagstone foyer, past a grand staircase that wound its way upward, and down a narrow hallway. Harry was appalled to see multiple house elf heads mounted on the wall above him, their ears dropping morosely.
"Sirius- whose house is this?" Harry asked quietly, glancing furtively back at the severed heads. They looked ancient, though none had deteriorated. It seemed that someone had charmed them to stop decay; the better to show them off to guests, he supposed.
"Mine, actually-" Harry's mouth dropped open, something that had happened a lot that night, he noted absently. "It's my parents really- ran away when I was 16. To your dad's- your grandparents were always happy to have me- But I digress. My prat of a brother's dead, and my dear horrid parents departed this world not long after he did. So, it's mine by default. A good thing too, since we've been able to set up shop! Oh Mummy Dearest would have keeled over just seeing this place full of blood traitors and muggleborns! Her portrait is none too happy, that's for sure..."
Sirius was rambling and Harry was having a hard time keeping up while trying to take in the odd mix of opulent and macabre décor around him. The kitchen looked as though it hadn't been renovated since the 1800's and the long wooden table looked as though it may have served as a butcher's block, judging from the numerous hack marks that marred the surface.
"Enough for now, Sirius!" Molly entered the kitchen behind them and took Harry's arm, steering him toward a large table where two people sat huddled, nearly invisible behind a stack of ancient looking tomes
"Sit- and we'll get you a proper spot of supper! You're much too thin Harry! Were the muggles not decent to you this summer? Merlin's beard-"
"HARRY!" For what Harry was sure was the millionth time that night, he was suddenly embraced, an enormous quantity of dark bushy hair obscuring his vision. "Thank goodness!"
Hermione Granger pulled back and beamed at him, one of the books from the table, a massive blue tome, still clutched under her arm.
"Hermione! I didn't know you were here- actually, I don't quite know where here is. Have you been here all summer?" Harry was glad to see his friend, but more than a little put out with her. Both she and Ron- and Ginny and Sirius for that matter- had been absolutely obtuse while writing about their activities over the holiday, never giving him more than a few lines about homework- or playing Quidditch, in Ron and Ginny's cases.
"I- oh Harry! We wanted to tell you! We couldn't, of course, Professor Dumbledore made us swear! There was a chance our letters could be intercepted you see- it was terribly unfair to you, but you're here now!" Hermione searched his face with pleading eyes. "We've got so much to tell you Harry! We'll fill you in, I'm just so happy you're all right! I heard Mrs. Weasley say something in the parlor about dementors-"
"I'm fine, 'Mione. Just a bit of a shock really." Hermione didn't look convinced in the slightest. "No really, Hermione!" Harry dug about in his trouser pocket and came back up with the lime green receipt from the Healer, "Mrs. Figg called a healer from St. Mungos and everything!"
Instead of looking pleased as Harry had expected, Hermione's brown eyes widened until Harry feared they would bug out of her head.
"Mrs. Figg did what, exactly?" Sirius bit off.
Mrs. Weasley looked just as shocked as Hermione. The stranger at the table's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.
"Remus? Is that what took so long?" Sirius shot off the question before Harry could respond to his first question.
"No- there was no one else there but Harry and Arabella when I arrived. His cousin of course- Harry if I could see the receipt?" He held out his hand to Harry expectantly and carefully took the slip when it was offered.
"Healer Dohrman? I've never heard of them. Have any of you?"
The adults in the room shook their heads and Sirius let out a low growl.
"I'm sorry- I don't understand what the big deal is? Dudley was in a bad way and we'd just been attacked. A healer seemed like a fine idea to me-" Harry began hotly.
"The problem, Harry, is that we don't know who that person is and they had access to you while you were vulnerable!" Sirius slammed his fist down on the table making the man at the other end jump. "It's unacceptable! Arabella should have known better! That healer could have been absolutely anyone! They could have killed you-"
"Well, they didn't-"
"No, but now someone outside of the Order knows where you live Harry! Where your family lives! Not only that, this Healer could go to the press! Make that information public- or the fact that you needed a Healer public! It was irresponsible for Bella to call someone not approved by the Order. Poppy would have been over in a heartbeat had she been summoned- or Emmeline! Voldemort is back Harry, we can't take risks- not with you, Harry." Sirius spoke with an authority that was unfamiliar in his voice, and Harry had little desire to argue with him. "Molly, call Emmeline won't you? We need to have one of ours look him over too- make sure nothing's wrong."
Sirius had regained his grip on Harry's arm and steered him into a seat at the table across from the unknown man, who sat staring at him with dark eyes.
"Are we even sure that this is Harry? No offense, Harry," Sirius hurled the question at Remus and offered a mildly apologetic glance at Harry.
"Padfoot- yes! I followed protocol. He answered a security question, and he's not been behaving oddly. Calm down. You aren't helping the situation by flinging around accusations and questions, Sirius," Remus pulled Sirius away from the table with a furrowed brow and the two retreated to a corner to talk in hushed, angry voices.
There was a tense moment at the table before the thin, dark skinned man seated across the table broke it by extending his hand to Harry.
"I am Cavelon Royer, how nice eet iz to meet you." The man spoke with a light French accent and offered a tentative, very white smile. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five.
"Harry Potter, likewise."
"I 'ave heard of you, of course. Even in France you are very famous. My cousins speak most highly of you, especially Gabrielle. I think you 'ave a secret admirer, Monsieur Potter," Royer teased Harry gently and offered him another small smile.
"Gabrielle? Delacour- Fleur is your cousin?" Harry was surprised. The man was good looking, in a bookish sort of way, but he did not resemble Fleur or Gabrielle in the slightest.
"Oui. My mother and Fleur's father are siblings. I do not share her veela heritage, though many would still consider me a half breed," Royer gave Harry a hard look and then glanced down at the blackness of his hands. "Blood status eez not the only way your Lord Voldemort discriminates the worthy from the chaff, Monsieur Potter. Eet eez important to remember that."
Harry blinked, taken aback. He had never considered that before, though he supposed it made sense. If Lucius Malfoy was the purity standard as Draco was prone to claiming, one would have to have quite the homogenous pedigree to measure up.
"No, I suppose it isn't," Harry's eyes lingered over Mr. Royer's face, then darted to Hermione's. Unbidden, he felt his chest tighten thinking about his friend. "One more reason to fight him then, isn't it? Happy to have you here, Mr. Royer."
The Frenchman nodded with a small smile and returned to the book in front of him. Hermione grasped his shoulder and beamed at him again.