The Grim
Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?
Just like chapter one, chapter two has been edited. I would like to mention that this chapter may get a bit boring because of the whole explanation thing, but I didn't just pull it out of the book, so that should be okay, I guess.
Harry groaned when his feet reached solid ground. He wrenched his arm out of Sirius's grip and stumbled, unsteady from the sudden movement.
Harry grasped the nearest item, a square table, for support and heaving loudly, ignoring the inch of dust that his fingers sank into. When he finally trusted himself not to puke at his next movement, he slowly righted himself, wiping his hands on his jeans, still holding onto his wand. Sure, he was still feeling a bit woozy, but at least he wasn't covering the floor and himself with what he last ate, not that he actually ate all that much before storming out of the Dursley's.
Looking around, he realized he couldn't see a thing. He was shrouded in darkness and stuck with a murderer that he couldn't even see. Life was conspiring with Death to get him killed apparently. Harry gripped his wand and decided to throw all caution to the wind. He was already expelled from Hogwarts. What was another one or two spells? With this in mind, he held up the wand and murmured, "Lumos."
Not the smartest thing he ever did. The illumination caused two cries to sound. "Harry! Put that thing down! Are you trying to blind us both?" Sirius faced the other way, one arm covering his eyes and the other waving frantically at Harry, gesturing for him to point the wand down.
Harry gratefully obliged, rubbing his own eyes with the back of his other hand. He didn't know why, but the light was rather dim, which was unusual, but he was still seeing dots… lots of them. Soon however, he got used to the lighting and decided to ignore the few stray dots he was imagining.
"Where are we?" The place was filthy. It was a cobwebs and dust galore. Sure, Harry had spent most of his life in a cupboard and spiders were an everyday occurrence, but this much dust was shocking. The air was stale, and he would have decided not to breathe if it weren't for the fact that he needed to do so. Still, that knowledge didn't stop him from trying, as he held his breath for as long as he could, but his brain forced him to inhale before he caused himself to pass out. The sharp intake of air he took caused him to choke slightly and sent him into a coughing fit.
'Note to self: Never act like a prat and think that I'm above breathing.'
"Kreacher's been slacking off, the nasty little bugger," Sirius growled, trying not to stir up any of the dust that surrounded him. "KREACHER!" he yelled.
'Kreacher? Someone actually lived in this? This can't be good for their health… whoever they are…'
His thoughts were put to a pause when he heard a rather familiar crack and something Apparated between Harry and Sirius. Harry could only see the back, but the large ears already told him that it was a House Elf. He already had his fair share of House Elves and knew that they, or Dobby at least, were quirky, to say in the least. While Dobby was at least wearing a pillowcase, Kreacher seemed to be wearing just a rag, or a cloth of some kind, around his lower body. It was still difficult to see any details on the House Elf though, since Harry's wand was the only source of light.
"Master Sirius is back." Kreacher stated, with what seemed to be a resentful tone, after giving a mechanical bow. "What does Master Sirius require of Kreacher?"
Sirius stared down at Kreacher with utter loathing. "Kreacher, you are to clean up. Do not leave the house. Do not contact anyone besides me or Harry here." He gestured towards Harry, but Kreacher never turned to glance at the boy in question.
"Kreacher will go clean, Master Sirius." He croaked, and magically caused the dust around them to fly in the air and come to a stop in a corner, before banishing the pile, all while muttering, "Poor Mistress. This house is shamed now that the blood-traitor is back. But Kreacher can't do anything. Oh how the Mistress will despair…"
Harry watched the House Elf, craning his neck as Kreacher stepped out of view into the next room. Sometime during this whole scene, the lights were turned on and Sirius had taken a seat at the now glisteningly clean table, watching him carefully. "Do take a seat. I would be a rude host to let my guest remain standing."
"Nox." The light at the end of his wand was put out and he stuffed it into his pocket. Harry carefully pulled out a seat on the opposite end of the table, the slight scraping of the ornate chair against the polished hardwood floor. He absentmindedly noted that it didn't squeak and creak like the Dursleys' did.
Ron had told him that House Elves usually came with ancient pureblood families with loads of money. The Black family apparently fell into that category, probably on the same level as the Malfoys. If that was true, then why was the house in such a state?
Harry sat and eyed Sirius warily. Silence fell over them as the two stared at each other. Actually, it was more that Sirius closely observing him while Harry fidgeted self-consciously. "…You look so much like James when we first met, you know?" Sirius was the first one to speak.
"You knew my father?" Harry asked, shocked.
Why did a murderer talk as though he knew his father? Everyone seemed to know his parents for the sacrifice they made for him. They'd always comment on the fact that he looked so much like his father, or that he looked so much like James Potter. Sirius addressed his father on a personal level, and was the only one to say that he looked so much like James. This man didn't associate James as his father. Rather, he associated Harry as James's son.
"Yeah, I was his best mate… back from eons and eons ago when we still attended Hogwarts."
Harry breathed in sharply. "What was dad like? Do I really look like how he did when he was younger? Did you know my mum as well? What was she like?" The questions spilled out of him, and for a moment, Harry forgot that the man in front of him was an escaped convict from prison. For a moment, Harry felt like a little child again, desperate for information about the parents he never knew. And in front of him was someone who claimed to be his father's best friend.
Sirius chuckled. "Obviously, no one ever told you about the circumstances surrounding your parents' deaths… That's good though. You would have believed the lies as well then."
And just like that, the moment passed and the man in front of him was a murderer again. "Circumstances? What circumstances? What does that have to do with my parents' death? Lies? What are you talking about?"
There was a pause. A long pause that probably lasted a span of five seconds, but Harry forced himself to stay calm. If he snapped again, he may never get the full story.
'Harry, he could be lying to you.' The thought had popped up, but he banished it towards the back of his mind, where he didn't have to pay it heed. Because he didn't care if this was a lie or not. Because he just wanted to know his parents.
"Harry, what I'm going to tell you is the truth, you understand? I just ask that you listen to the entire story. You still have that leaf?" At the hesitant nod, Sirius continued. "Well, I really wanted to write 'Please don't freak out and be irrational', but there were space issues." He shrugged good-naturedly. "Can you do that for me though? Just listen to the whole story, and then you can yell at me, okay?"
Sirius's face was calm. It could even be said that he had an amused air around him. Harry grimaced, clenching his fist. 'How dare he be like that… when we're about to talk about my parents' death?' Upon a closer look however, Harry could see the pleading man behind the façade. Sirius's face was tense as he waited for an answer. Harry wanted to cry out that he was insane. That he didn't want to hear anything from a murderer anymore. "Sure." The word popped out of his mouth before he knew it. And he realized, he wanted to learn more about his parents, even if it was about their deaths and even from a killer. He wanted to know something.
A breath was released and Sirius relaxed. "I first met James on the Hogwarts Express at the start of our first year," he began, eyes becoming unfocused as if he started seeing something that only he could see. By the end of our first year, we came out with four people in our group: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin…" He paused, his face forming a sneer. "And Peter Pettigrew." He spat.
Harry blinked at the look of animosity. "The four of us were the best of friends, titled… the Marauders." At this, there was a proud tone, and a smile snaked across his face. "That was the name that we took on. Over the seven years at Hogwarts, we grew closer. James was always infatuated with Lily and they ended up getting together in our seventh year. It came as quite a shock to the rest of our year when they dated. Everyone swore that they would never be able to even stand being in the same room together.
"The two married, and then they had you. We were so… happy." Sirius looked at him, but Harry wasn't too sure whether or not Sirius actually saw him. "Lily would never let you out of her sight the first few months. James on the other hand, was such a mess. His wand was always sending out red and yellow sparks every time he carried you… saw you… thought of you. He was put on paperwork duty because of that." Sirius laughed quietly, which seemed so much louder in the otherwise deathly silent room, since Harry was intent on memorizing everything being told to him.
"And then, Dumbledore decided to drop a bomb on us all and told us about the prophecy." His face warped.
He was furious, Harry could tell, and thus was rather unsure about whether or not to ask. He deserved to know about this prophecy. "Um…" Sirius snapped out of his internal rage at the quiet sound. "What is this 'prophecy'?"
Sirius froze. "Y– you don't know? Dumbledore never told you?" Harry shook his head. What hadn't Dumbledore told him? Sirius's eyes clouded over and his hands that were clasped together on the table shook. "Dumbledore never told you… he never told you?" Shaking his head, he swallowed, trying to swallow his rage as well.
"I don't know the exact words, but this… prophecy told us that a child that would be born at the end of seventh month, July, from parents that defied Voldemort three times would be the Dark Lord's downfall. Somehow Voldemort found out about the prophecy and set out to kill the prophesized child. Your parents defied him three times… and you…"
"I was born on July 31st... the end of the seventh month." Harry said, bitterly, understanding that he might have been the reason his parents were killed. That fact lingered uncomfortably in his mind. Because he was born… his parents died. "So I should have never been born, eh?"
Sirius remained silent glancing down at his own hands. "No," He breathed out. Harry glanced up at the man. Sirius should have hated him. What did he mean by no? "No," Sirius repeated. "It wasn't your fault… It was mine." Narrowing his eyes, Harry tried to figure out what Sirius was implying.
"What?" The question was unnaturally piercing in the room that they were in, and came to settle down around them.
"And so, to protect you, the Fidelius Charm was to be cast," Sirius continued. His avoiding the question caused Harry to purse his lips in a very McGonagall-like action. "The Fidelius Charm can be cast on a household, causing it to be unseen and so that no one could locate it. The only one who would know the whereabouts would be the Secret Keeper, and only the Secret Keeper would be able to tell people where it was. Without the Secret Keeper telling you, you wouldn't be able to find the house. Voldemort could have been pressing his nose right to the window and he would have never known.
"I – I was supposed to be the Secret Keeper. Just listen, please." He looked at Harry with such pain, that Harry didn't try to attack or hex the man in front of him. "I was supposed to be the Secret Keeper. I was James's best mate. We were closer than brothers and we trusted each other. He knew it, I knew it, and unfortunately, Voldemort knew it too. I convinced James to make Peter the Secret Keeper however.
"Peter was small and weak. No one would ever suspect such a pathetic being to be the Secret Keeper. That way, Voldemort would be after me, thinking that I was the Secret Keeper, when in reality, Peter would be the one with the secret. It was the perfect plan, and no one knew about the switch other than me, James, and Peter. It would have worked… if Peter didn't betray us." Harry froze. His parents died because of their friend?
"Peter apparently, was on Voldemort's side some time after we left Hogwarts. It must have been his greatest moment: selling the entire Potter family to his master. James. Because of him, James died. My best friend died because of him. James and Lily died because of my mistake. My stupid, stupid mistake." Sirius laughed insanely, his voice cracking at the very end.
"It all happened barely a week later. It just popped out of nowhere. I went to check up Peter like I was supposed to, every week. The day I visited, he wasn't there. Something was up. Peter would have been too frightened to even look outside. He was a coward like that. Why wouldn't he be inside? I got to the house as fast as I could… but not fast enough apparently." He looked furiously down. What he was looking at, Harry didn't know. Maybe he was glaring at the memory. Maybe he was glaring at Pettigrew in his mind. Or maybe he was glaring spitefully at his own reflection in the clean mahogany wood of the table.
"James and Lily were dead. I saw their bodies, left as they were when they were dead. James… he fought without a wand, the stupid git." He smiled bitterly. "It's so like him though, to forget about himself to save his loved ones. Lily, she was on the floor. If her eyes were closed, it would have been like she was only asleep. It might have been a bad dream that she was having, but she didn't look dead. And Voldemort was nowhere to be found. Peter wasn't there either. The coward fled.
"I tracked him down and found him the next day. We were on a Muggle street. I was just approaching him. I was just furious and wasn't thinking straight. I should have went to Dumbledore first. I shouldn't have done it in public. But I did it anyway. I was just so angry. My best friend was dead because of something that I decided on. And Peter… he framed me. He yelled out for the entire street to hear, asking me why I betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort. He made it out to be that he was confronting me rather than vice versa.
"Then… then he cast a curse, killing twelve nearby Muggles, cut off his finger, and transformed. That finger was the largest part of him that was ever found. He escaped in the chaos, leaving me there to take the blame. And I went to Azkaban for the death of twelve innocent Muggles whom were dead only because they were at the wrong place, at the wrong time."
Harry stayed silent. He shouldn't believe a murderer! The man in front of him was a murderer! But… if his story was true… then Sirius wasn't a murderer. "But… if your story's true… why did you escape now? If you could have always escaped, then why wait for thirteen years to pass? And where is your proof for this story?"
Sirius chuckled, reaching into his robes. Harry tensed, but all he pulled out was a scrap of paper. He flattened it out on the table, not that it did it any good, being as wrinkled as it was, and turned it to face Harry.
Harry's breath caught in his throat. There, in front of him, Ron was waving furiously up at him. The entire Weasley family was there. They looked so happy together in Egypt, as a family, that Harry was forced to remember what happened to his own. Shaking his head, he recognized the paper to be the clipping from the Daily Prophet that Ron sent him in his birthday card, the very same clipping in his trunk right now.
"How is this proof?" Sirius jabbed at the rat on Ron's shoulder with a dirty finger, the nail looking as though it had been bitten off.
"Scabbers? What does Scabbers have to do with anything?"
"Everything. This 'Scabbers' is Peter Pettigrew."
Harry stared at Sirius. "You're mental! There's no way Scabbers could be Pettigrew! He's Ron's pet. And there's no way a human could be so… useless. The only thing Scabbers ever did was bite Crabbe's finger on the Hogwarts Express."
Sirius laughed out loud, the sound piercing the silence of the house that they were in. "Then that just may as well be the most productive thing he's ever done. Peter's Animagus is a rat. When I said that the four of us, James, Remus, Peter, and I, used to be the best of friends, I meant it. We all became Animagi together in fifth year. I was the dog that you saw earlier, James was a stag," Harry quickly absorbed that fact. "And Peter… Peter was a rat."
"All right, if Peter was a rat, then how do you know that he's Scabbers? You could be mistaken. Scabbers could just be a regular old rat." Despite saying this, Harry didn't quite believe that he was saying.
"I told you. Peter cut off his finger when escaping. That was the largest part found. Well, actually, it was the only part found. And this 'Scabbers' – "
"Is missing a finger on his front paw." Harry breathed out, staring fixedly at the rat on Ron's shoulder that was squirming to get out of view. "Ron told me that he's had Scabbers for twelve years. Rats don't live that long, do they? Scabbers should be dead. But he's still alive. And my parents have been dead for twelve years." Harry clenched his fist, before falling quiet at this new revelation.
Sirius coughed awkwardly. "Harry, did you know… that when you were born… your parents made me your godfather?"
Aaaannndddd, we're done with the explanation. Sort of. Thanks for all the reviews (Well... the reviews I received for the original chapter two).