The Champion's Legacy

Chapter 11: The Order of the Phoenix – II


Author's Note: I struggled with this chapter just as much as I did with the previous one. I was stuck midway for a very long time, and only recently did I manage to achieve a breakthrough in writing it out. The lack of a proper chapter name sums up my difficulty with this one. I just hope you enjoy reading this.

I also hope you're all staying safe and healthy right now.

Many thanks to Dorothea Greengrass for beta-reading this chapter.


Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.


Previously on "The Champion's Legacy"…

Dumbledore had such a serious expression on his face by the end of his statement that Harry did not even consider asking him for a reason, let alone refusing to do so.

His response, however, was drowned by shouts from the middle of the room. He instinctively drew his wand, expecting an intruder, ready to defend himself –

and almost dropped it in shock at the sight of the newcomers.

'Dobby?'

It was indeed Dobby the house-elf, but he was not alone.

Lying on the floor beside him, her eyes closed, the right side of her face drenched in red blood, was Iris Parkinson.


For a brief shimmering moment, nobody moved or said anything. Then –

'Molly, Sirius, Remus,' said Dumbledore sharply, taking charge of the situation, 'please move Miss Parkinson to one of the bedrooms upstairs.'

The three of them immediately leapt forward. Mrs Weasley used her wand to siphon off the blood from Iris' face; Sirius conjured a stretcher and Lupin levitated Iris onto it. Then, the three of them hurried out of the kitchen, Sirius levitating the stretcher in front of them.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore quickly scribbled a note on a spare bit of parchment that Bill had, then muttered something under his breath. A moment later, there was a sudden burst of flame in the middle of the room, startling everyone. A soft musical note sounded out and quivered in the air as Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, appeared in the kitchen and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder.

'I need you to take this to Madam Pomfrey,' he said quietly, handing the magnificent scarlet and gold bird the note he'd scribbled. Fawkes let out another soft trill, took the note in his beak, and soared into the air once more. Another flash of fire, and the phoenix was gone.

'Kingsley, Nymphadora,' said Dumbledore at once, as though he had done something as normal as sending a letter by owl post, 'we need to find out if the Auror Office knows about this. Please go straight to the Ministry at once. Send word to me in the usual way after an hour. I shall meet you here after that.'

They nodded and left.

'Alastor,' continued Dumbledore, looking at the grizzled ex-Auror. 'The Parkinson family home, if you could –'

'I'm on it, Albus,' growled Moody. He stumped quickly out of the room.

'I will need to get word to Jonathan and Severus,' said Dumbledore. 'Especially Severus – it is essential that he is informed as soon as possible.'

'We'll go,' said Bill, indicating himself and Charlie. 'We'll tell Professor Snape about this.'

'I'll let Jonathan know,' said Mr Weasley, also getting to his feet. 'He must be at the Ministry now.'

'Excellent. Gather as much information as you can within the hour, then tell them to meet me here as soon as they are able to.'

The three Weasleys left. Now, only Mundungus, Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Daphne were left, along with Dobby, who was still standing in the exact place where he had arrived, twisting his hands anxiously.

'Mundungus,' said Dumbledore, after casting an eye over the kitchen's remaining occupants. 'Pick up what you can from your contacts. I need you back in an hour.'

'Alright,' grunted Mundungus, and he shuffled away, leaving behind the strong stench of tobacco mixed with sweat.

Harry had watched all of this in a kind of horrified daze. Seeing Iris like that, unconscious, with her face half covered in blood…it had shocked him. Not the gore itself, but the fact that of all people, Iris Parkinson was in this condition…

Who could have done this?

Daphne squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present. Dumbledore had stepped forward to kneel in front of Dobby.

'Dobby,' he said gently. 'How did you come by Miss Parkinson tonight?'

The elf's eyes swivelled from Dumbledore to Harry, then back again. 'Master Dumbledore sir, I… I…'

Dobby trembled slightly, then looked to Harry again, as though asking for permission. Harry gave him a nod.

'Master Dumbledore sir, Dobby was following Miss Iris Parkinson on Harry Potter sir's orders, sir,' said Dobby.

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore did not seem at all surprised at this news; on the contrary, he nodded and said, 'I understand. What happened tonight, Dobby?'

Dobby shivered again, but he raised his head a little higher and began his recollection of the night's events.

'Harry Potter sir had asked for Dobby's help in finding out what happened to Masters Adrian Pucey and Terence Higgs, and Miss Iris Parkinson last month. Dobby was told not to draw any attention to himself, and not to be seen by anyone, and Dobby followed all of these instructions!' His voice sounded quite proud as he finished, as though he wanted to leave no one in doubt that he always followed instructions.

'Very good, Dobby,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'And did you find out about them?'

'Masters Adrian and Terence are safe and well, Harry Potter sir!' said Dobby, turning to address Harry as a bit of his usual excitement returned to him. 'Master Adrian says that they had gone on holiday for two weeks, and after their return, Masters' owls were unable to find Master Wheezy. "Our owls came right back home", they says.'

Harry let out a sigh of relief, while Daphne whispered, 'Thank goodness.' Harry heard Ron mutter, 'I'm going to kill them,' but he too seemed relieved.

'Thanks, Dobby,' said Hermione, smiling tremulously. Dobby bowed deeply to her.

'And Miss Parkinson, Dobby?' pressed Dumbledore. 'Can you tell us what happened?'

Dobby's ears drooped, and his smile lessened slightly. ''Tis not good, sir. 'Tis a horrible tale, with very bad wizards, sir. Dobby wishes he could have helped Miss Iris sooner, sir.'

'We will do all we can to help, Dobby,' said Dumbledore. 'You did well in bringing her back as soon as you can, while following Harry's orders,' he added, and Dobby perked up slightly at the compliment.

'But you said bad wizards did this to her,' continued Dumbledore. 'Do you know who they were? What did they do?'

Dobby shook his head, his ears flapping about. 'Dobby does not know them, Master Dumbledore sir. But Dobby remembers the masks they were wearing, sir, the same masks that Dobby's old masters used to wear, sir…'

At this, everyone in the room exchanged quick but fearful looks with each other. Death Eaters?

'They had come earlier today, sir,' continued Dobby. 'Dobby heard them talking and laughing about it, even shouting at Mister Parkinson, sir. "You can't refuse us forever, Philip!" they yells, and Dobby hears Mister Parkinson shout back, "I don't care, I'm never joining back!" So they breaks open the front door, sir, and many, many bad wizards come in, at least ten sir. They fire spells at each other, and Dobby was almost hit sir, but Dobby moved away just in time. And then – and then…' He trailed off, shuddering, as he recalled what had happened.

Harry felt a sudden surge of dread.

'Missus Parkinson came downstairs, Master Dumbledore sir,' said Dobby, his voice now quiet and serious. 'Dobby saw her trying to help Mister Parkinson, but she was hit, sir, and she fell from the stairs –'

Daphne gasped audibly.

'And Mister Parkinson was furious; he screamed and shouted and yelled curses at everyone, but it was too much for him, and they – they…they killed him, Master Dumbledore sir.'

Harry wrapped a comforting arm around Daphne's shoulders, trying to control his own emotions. Poor Iris…

'And then, Miss Iris comes down sir, and she sees her mother on the floor, and her father dead, and she also screams sir, but they is taking her wand away, and they is torturing her sir.'

Hermione and Daphne had tears running down their cheeks. Ron, whose arms was around Hermione, looked pale and shocked, as did Fred and George. Harry knew what torture the Death Eaters would have subjected Iris to, and his hands clenched into tight fists. How sick could these people get, torturing a girl who was still at school?

'Dobby is thinking now sir – how does Dobby help Miss Iris? Dobby knew Harry Potter sir would want Dobby to come back with information, but Dobby could not leave Miss Iris alone there, sir –'

'You did brilliantly, Dobby,' said Harry, his voice sounding slightly constricted, and Dobby's eyes filled with tears of gratitude.

'Did anyone see you, Dobby?' asked Dumbledore patiently.

'No, Master Dumbledore sir,' said Dobby, sounding a little proud. 'Dobby was careful not to be seen by the bad wizards. Dobby waited for them to leave before going to Miss Iris, sir.'

Dumbledore smiled at the little elf, although his face still looked rather grave. 'You have done very well, Dobby. I have just one last question.'

Dobby nodded fervently.

'Did you hear anyone using any names, Dobby?'

Dobby's wide eyes swivelled from Dumbledore to Harry and Daphne, then back again.

'They is – they is using one name, sir.' He trembled slightly, and for some reason, Harry thought he looked apologetic.

'They is saying Magnus, sir.'


Madam Pomfrey arrived in the burst of flame within a few minutes after Dobby finished his story. Dumbledore told the twins to take her upstairs, just as Fawkes vanished once again; Harry presumed it was to inform Lupin, Mrs Weasley, and Sirius that the matron was on her way.

Dumbledore had sent Dobby back to Hogwarts, after thanking him for his help, and assuring him quite clearly that he had done exceptionally and that he was allowed to take two days off that month as a reward. Dobby had beamed at Dumbledore, bowed deeply at him and the others, hugged Harry around his knees, then vanished with a loud CRACK.

The rest of them had, on the Headmaster's insistence, retaken their seats at the kitchen table. Dumbledore, looking quite grave, turned to Harry first.

'It seems I am missing some information, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Perhaps you could help me understand what is going on.'

Harry launched into the explanation of their arrangement with Adrian and Terence to check on Iris, the worry they felt when none of the Slytherins had responded, and asking Dobby to help them find out what had happened.

By the time he had finished, Dumbledore was smiling at him.

'If not for the holidays, Harry, I would have awarded a lot of points to both Gryffindor and Slytherin for a remarkable display of inter-House unity, friendship, and camaraderie.'

Harry and Ron turned red at the praise. Hermione and Daphne beamed at them.

'I am proud of you, Harry, for taking that step.' continued Dumbledore. 'It is my belief, and this time I sincerely hope I am right, that such bonds will spell the downfall of Voldemort.'

Harry nodded. Then, his face fell slightly as he recalled Dobby's story of the Parkinson Manor assault.

'Sir, Dobby said one of the Death Eaters was named Magnus,' he said. 'Could it be – was it –'

He broke off as Dumbledore sighed softly.

'Yes, it is Cassius Warrington's father,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'Magnus Warrington was charged with being a Death Eater during Voldemort's first rise to power, but he was acquitted by the Wizengamot on the claim of being under the Imperius Curse.'

'Just like Lucius Malfoy,' said Harry bitterly.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'It is my guess that Magnus places the blame of his son's death at the feet of Iris Parkinson.'

'What?!' said the four of them, together

Dumbledore nodded. 'I noticed a very peculiar reaction when he met with Severus and me after the events of the Third Task. While his anger appeared quite justified, it did not seem to be directed at Voldemort. I believe he feels Miss Parkinson softened his son's resolve, and somehow convinced him to not join the Death Eaters' ranks.'

Harry exchanged incredulous glances with the other three. He knew they were all thinking the same thing: that reasoning was the most ridiculous one they'd ever heard.

'Doubtless, he felt it was his prerogative to exact some sort of revenge for his son's death. I believe that he would have volunteered at once to lead Voldemort's Death Eaters in their plan to eliminate Philip Parkinson. I would need to check with Severus on this, however.'

'Do you think Snape would have known about it earlier, sir?' asked Ron. The implied accusation was not lost on Dumbledore, who frowned slightly.

'Professor Snape, Ronald,' he corrected. 'I trust Severus completely. I do not think he would have withheld information about such an attack, had he known that it was to happen. Especially not one which involved one of his House's brightest students.'

Ron looked slightly abashed at his question.

'What's going to happen to Iris, Professor?' asked Daphne.

Dumbledore's eyes moved to the ceiling, where, a few floors above, Madam Pomfrey was working her magic on Iris' wounds.

'I do not know, Miss Greengrass,' he said, and he sounded graver than ever this time. 'I am confident that Madam Pomfrey will do the best she can. That said, I think it is best if she stays here and recovers at Grimmauld Place,' he added, returning his gaze to them.

Suddenly, for the first time since the Order meeting had ended, his eyes twinkled. 'I am sure our new Head Boy can manage without the Head Girl for the first few days of the new term.'

It took a few moments for them to process what Dumbledore said; then, slowly, a feeling of relief and happiness seemed to spread around the room. Harry was smiling again – he didn't know many seventh years at Hogwarts, but he was absolutely certain that there was no better choice for the role of Head Girl than Iris Parkinson.

Just then, a large silvery shape burst through the closed kitchen door, causing Ron to yell and Hermione to almost fall off her chair in alarm. Harry's hand flew to his wand in his pocket once again, but a moment later, he recognised the silver as that of a Patronus.

Gleaming brightly in the relatively dark kitchen, the silver lynx stopped on the table, directly in front of Dumbledore, opened its mouth wide, and spoke in the deep, slow voice of Kingsley.

'Auror Office aware of incident. Amelia Bones and Tonks involved in investigation. I am returning.'

The four of them continued to stare open-mouthed at the spot where the cat had vanished, even as Dumbledore stood up.

'Let us move upstairs,' he said. 'We can wait for Kingsley when he comes.'

They followed Dumbledore out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the dining room. They had barely taken their seats at the table when they heard footsteps in the corridor outside; a moment later, Kingsley walked in, sporting a worried look on his face.

'They were already organising teams when we got there, Dumbledore,' said Kingsley in his slow, deep voice, without preamble, as he joined them at the table. 'Scrimgeour and Amelia pulled Tonks in for the investigation at the Manor.'

'Would they know that Death Eaters were involved?' asked Hermione.

'I doubt it,' said Kingsley. 'Even if the evidence were pointing that way, Scrimgeour wouldn't want to believe it. He doesn't think You-Know-Who has returned, either.'

Harry shook his head. The list of people who didn't believe him or Dumbledore was getting longer and longer, and frankly, quite ridiculous. Voldemort would have an easy job of doing whatever he wanted to do if the Ministry continued to sweetly ignore his return.

'Did Amelia say anything, Kingsley?' said Dumbledore.

'Not directly,' came the reply. 'She gave Tonks and me a meaningful look when we arrived, as if she knew that we knew about this earlier. I think we need to speak to her as soon as possible, Dumbledore.'

Dumbledore nodded, but before he could say anything further, footsteps sounded from outside the dining room. A moment later, Mundungus returned, bringing with him his usual stench of stale tobacco and sweat.

'They got the job done,' said Mundungus, sliding into a chair at the far end of the table. 'Philip was to be killed, and they got it done.'

Hermione put a shaky hand up to her mouth.

'Was there a reward?' asked Dumbledore.

'None that I heard of, Dumbledore,' grunted Mundungus. 'But I did hear that someone wanted to curse the girl.'

Harry felt Daphne stiffen beside him. He met the others' gaze, and he knew they were all thinking of their friend upstairs.

'Thank you, Mundungus,' said Dumbledore quietly, and they fell silent.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Bill, Charlie, Mr Weasley, and Moody returned from their assignments. Dumbledore waited until everyone had settled down before asking them for their updates.

'Professor Snape says he had no news of the attack,' Bill supplied first. 'You-Know-Who had left him in the dark about this one. Only those who were to participate in it were informed of it.'

'I see,' said Dumbledore. 'I presume he also said he would speak with me after my return to Hogwarts.'

'Err – yes, as a matter of fact, he did,' said Bill with a sheepish grin. 'We caught him in his office, and I think he was busy. He wasn't too pleased to see us, to tell you the truth.'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'The last day before the new term begins is always a busy time for the Professors,' he said, his eyes twinkling. 'I do not begrudge his ire. Thank you, William and Charlie,' he added, and the two eldest Weasley brothers nodded.

The aged wizard turned to Mr Weasley next, who spoke without hesitation. 'Jonathan has been informed. He said he'll visit you at your office tomorrow morning; apparently, he has some business at his place tonight.'

'Very well,' Dumbledore said, and left it at that. 'Alastor?' he asked, turning his attention to the grizzled ex-Auror.

'House was empty when I got there,' said Moody, and Dumbledore's attention was piqued.

'Empty?' he said sharply. 'What about Viola?'

'Wasn't there, Albus,' growled Moody. 'I didn't see anyone on either floor of the manor.' Both eyes were fixated on Dumbledore's slightly concerned face. 'Was she supposed to be there?'

'Dobby said she had fallen near the staircase,' said Dumbledore, stroking his beard. 'I wonder…'

'Maybe the Death Eaters took her away after Dobby brought the girl here,' said Moody. 'We can't rule out kidnap.'

'Unless – wait, where was Pansy Parkinson?' asked Ron suddenly.

Everyone in the room stared at him.

'Good question, lad,' said Moody appreciatively. 'The younger girl, isn't she? Was she there during the attack?'

'Dobby didn't mention seeing her, did he?' said Hermione. 'Was she out when this happened?'

'And if she was,' growled Moody, 'did she know about it in advance?'

A very tense silence followed these words. Harry, whose mind had been diverted with Ron's question about Pansy, felt as though he'd received a sudden jolt to his midriff. Could Pansy have known about the attack in advance? Had Draco or Lucius Malfoy told her about it, and she'd sought to save herself? But why wouldn't she have saved her family, too? And where was she?

His musings were interrupted by a loud CRACK. They all turned to see Fred standing near the end of the dining table, opposite to Dumbledore. He looked uncharacteristically grim.

'Professor,' he said, sounding very serious and so unlike his usual self, 'it's Iris.'


It was the worst end to the holidays Harry could have ever imagined.

The euphoria from his acquittal by the Wizengamot, his burgeoning relationship with Daphne, and his involvement – however minimal – with the anti-Voldemort movement had been eradicated in a single, swift stroke with the news about Iris Parkinson. According to Madam Pomfrey, she had been exposed to the Cruciatus Curse for far too long, because of which her body and mind had reacted of their own accord.

'Her mind has effectively shut down,' she had informed him, Ron, Hermione, and Daphne in a soft voice when they had visited Iris last night. 'It's a form of self-defence, perhaps due to the pain she'd been subjected to…'

'Has she – is she –' Hermione seemed to falter in her words, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

'She is in a coma, Miss Granger,' said Madam Pomfrey sadly. 'As to when she will wake…'

Madam Pomfrey trailed off, a sombre expression on her otherwise kind and motherly face, and shook her head. Hermione's hand was on her mouth again, and she was leaning on Ron for some support. Harry had wrapped his arm around Daphne's shoulders; he could feel her trembling slightly.

'The Headmaster has asked me to visit her periodically,' she continued. 'It would be too risky to shift her to Hogwarts or St. Mungo's at the moment, given the Ministry's attitude towards this…'

They all nodded, realising what she was talking about. Tonks had returned from the Auror Office investigation a mere five minutes after Fred's appearance in the dining room, her hair a violent shade of red and looking extremely irate.

'Scrimgeour doesn't want anyone investigating the attack!' she'd burst out furiously.

A long string of cuss words later, and a few swigs from a Butterbeer bottle that they'd asked Kreacher to bring up from the kitchen, and Tonks had calmed down just enough to explain the situation to them. Apparently, Rufus Scrimgeour had directed the Auror Office to stand down from the investigations, saying that it seemed to be an internal pure-blood family conflict which the Auror Office would not concern itself with, unless a formal complaint was filed.

'I think he thinks Mrs Parkinson killed him, then fled,' she'd finished, her hair now a morose, mousy brown colour.

It did seem that way, Harry had thought, considering the circumstantial evidence that was present at the manor. For all they knew, the Death Eaters had probably planned it in that manner – it was just their luck that Mrs Parkinson had appeared on the stairs at the right time, and that she'd been spirited away by Merlin knows who.

All in all, it was clear that as far as the Ministry was concerned, there would be no investigation into the incident, which meant that Iris' treatment and recovery had to be undertaken in secret for fear of any retribution or backlash from any quarter. The possibility that Magnus Warrington would have an accomplice in the Ministry to pass on information about Iris's condition or her location could not be ruled out.

The fact that she was now safe did not improve the grim mood that had blanketed the younger occupants of Grimmauld Place that night, and indeed the next morning. It was clear that everyone was worried about Iris' recovery; to add to that, Harry felt a feeling of inadequacy and uselessness creep up on him. Despite his arrangement with Ron, Adrian, and Terence, Iris had still been attacked. And he could do nothing about it.

He'd had a restless night, tossing this way and that as he brooded and worried over Iris' condition and his incompetence. Even when he had gotten to sleep, he had been plagued with dreams about the same long dark corridor ending with the heavy black door that refused to open. Some part of his mind seemed to want the door to open, if only to find out what lay beyond and get done with the dream altogether.

His restlessness continued throughout the whole of next day, too. Madam Pomfrey stopped by for another visit but reported that there was no change in Iris' condition. Mrs Weasley had announced that they were going to have a celebration dinner for Ron and Hermione being selected as prefects, and therefore all of them had to finish their packing by that evening, while she went to Diagon Alley to pick up their new books and other items for their return to Hogwarts.

Having packed his trunk and other belongings before the Order meeting the previous day, Harry had nothing to do to work out his anxiety; he therefore took to pacing around his and Ron's room while the others scrambled to complete their packing.

It was in this situation that Sirius walked into his room.

'How're you holding up?' he asked, leaning against the frame of the door.

Harry, who had glanced up at Sirius on his arrival, shrugged and continued pacing.

'Yeah, I know,' said Sirius with a sigh. 'Sit down, Harry.'

Harry shook his head.

'You're making me dizzy with all your pacing,' said Sirius jokingly, crossing the room and sitting down on Harry's empty bed. 'Come and sit down, Harry.'

Harry scowled at Sirius but sat down next to him anyway.

'You're just like James,' said Sirius with a short, bark-like laugh. 'He used to brood this way too, pacing around the dormitory. Used to drive Moony and I mad. And Lily too, come to think of it…'

He trailed off, his glazed eyes telling Harry that he was reminiscing about happier times with his old friends. Harry didn't respond, but the familiar happiness at being told that he was like his father reduced his anxiety a bit.

'James and I were barely out of Hogwarts when we joined the Order,' said Sirius. 'At first, we were assigned simple missions – stakeouts, following Death Eaters, you know. Then, about a year later, we were given a more dangerous assignment: raid a known Death Eater hideout on the outskirts of Leicester. Two other members joined us – Caradoc Dearborn and Dorcas Meadowes. Old Mad-Eye was our handler.'

Harry watched Sirius as he spoke: a faraway look had come over his eyes once more, and he seemed to be speaking with a faint air of wistfulness. He'd never heard Sirius talk about his Order missions before – most of their conversations had been centred around the pranks and mischief that the Marauders had gotten up to at school. All of a sudden, Sirius seemed a lot less like Padfoot and a lot more like Sirius Black, member of the Order of the Phoenix.

'In theory, it was a straightforward raid,' he continued. 'Attack the hideout from two different ends and capture the Death Eaters. Mad-Eye would then take them to the Ministry for questioning and imprisonment. At least, that's what James and I thought it would be like, anyway.'

Harry had no inkling of where this story was going, and why Sirius was relating this to him in the first place. He didn't interrupt, however, not even when his godfather's face suddenly turned grim.

'The raid was a disaster. They knew we were coming – Peter, of course, had let them know – and they'd set up a counter-ambush. We were surrounded on all sides, and we were lucky to make it out alive.'

Harry noticed the way his godfather's countenance had darkened when he mentioned Wormtail's name, as also his apparent relief at having escaped the ambush without any casualties. His tone, however, seemed indicative – as though there was something he'd deliberately avoided to mention. Harry caught onto it at once.

'Make it out alive?' he repeated. 'None of you were injured?'

Sirius took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The memory of that night still seemed to be quite painful.

'Dorcas was caught in the crossfire of spells,' he said heavily. 'We were so caught up in battling the curses that were coming our way, we didn't see her go down to the first curse. But when the screaming started, we knew.'

Harry stared at him, a numb sort of feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

'My dear cousin Bellatrix, you saw her on the tapestry,' said Sirius, 'she was torturing Dorcas with the Cruciatus Curse for a long time. It was almost ten whole minutes before we could break through their ranks and get her out of there with us.'

Sirius' fists were clenched, the bed covers bunched up in his palms.

'Her mind had shut down on its own,' he continued. 'She was in a coma, and for a long time, we didn't know when she would wake up. We'd healed every other injury of hers, but this… We couldn't do anything at all to help her.'

And finally, Harry understood what Sirius was getting at with this story. His godfather heaved another deep sigh, then turned to Harry.

'James and I were probably the most affected by this,' he said rather seriously. 'Apart from the shock of realising that Voldemort had been aware of our raid, we were beating ourselves up with the guilt that we couldn't do anything for Dorcas. And that despite all our planning and training as members of the Order, we couldn't help her in time.

'Those two months was probably the worst time of our lives at that point. It took us a long time to get over the feeling of uselessness and guilt, even after she recovered and almost beat Bellatrix the next time they duelled. She was a fierce fighter, she was.'

He paused, his eyes on Harry's face, scrutinising his expression. Harry didn't know how to feel about it all.

They both looked towards the door as it swung open, revealing a flustered looking Ron carrying a pile of textbooks. He muttered a quick apology, dumped his textbooks into his open trunk, and rushed out again, shutting the door behind him. The empty portrait on the wall let out a huff of annoyance.

Sirius chuckled, but turned serious as he spotted the look on Harry's face.

'I know how you're feeling, Harry,' said Sirius quietly. 'There is no shame in feeling this guilt, but you must remember – it is not your fault.'

'I couldn't help her, Sirius,' said Harry bitterly. 'We did everything we could – everything – and I still couldn't save her from this.'

'And that's what I want you to keep telling yourself, alright?' said Sirius firmly. 'You did everything you could, and that's all that matters. Tell me, if you'd known about the attack, would you have actually charged off to Parkinson Manor to save Iris?'

Harry was on verge of stubbornly answering 'Yes', but Sirius' stern expression diffused that desire.

He shook his head.

'Exactly,' said Sirius. 'Dumbledore told us what you and Ron had done with Pucey and Higgs, and I could not be prouder of you, Harry. But that's all you could have done. You can't always take responsibility for the actions of others, you know that.'

Harry nodded, and was rather surprised to feel a slight prickling in the back of his eyes and throat.

'It's just…' he mumbled, looking down onto the bed. 'I mean, after the maze, I promised –'

He broke off, trying desperately to compose himself. He tried again.

'I mean, I promised myself that I'd do anything to help Iris with anything. Whatever she would need,' he said, and he was relieved to find that his voice didn't shake as much as before. 'And when I saw Iris downstairs, covered in blood, it just brought back memories of Cassius, and how I couldn't do anything to help him.'

Sirius did not say anything, but simply scooted over and wrapped his arm around Harry in a sideways hug. Harry felt himself relax in the comforting embrace, much like how he imagined he would have felt if his father had hugged him.

'I know exactly what it feels like to be responsible for someone's death, Harry,' said Sirius gruffly. 'There's not a day that goes by when I don't miss your parents, and when I don't blame myself for what happened. But I almost always tell myself that James and Lily wouldn't have wanted me to worry or feel guilty about it. They'd have wanted me to get over it and get on with my life while taking care of you.'

He released Harry and looked down at him.

'I couldn't do that for the first thirteen years of your life, but I intend on doing that now. And as part of that responsibility, I'm telling you to get over this guilt and move on. Because something tells me that neither Cassius nor Iris would be proud of you if they could see you now, all brooding and worrying.'

Harry scowled, but it was half-hearted at best. His guilt was slowly seeping away. Sirius was right – Cassius wouldn't have wanted him to mourn him for this long. He would have expected Harry to get on with his life, to stay strong and fight on for what was right, instead of taking the easy path and wasting away in guilt and worry…

He grinned at Sirius, who grinned back and ruffled his messy hair.

'Good to know that you can still smile,' he joked, and promptly received a pillow to the face from Harry.

'Okay, I deserved that,' admitted Sirius, his hands raised in surrender but still chuckling.

They watched Ron dash into the room again with an armful of socks before hurrying out at top speed.

'These Weasleys really need to get a grip on their packing,' commented Sirius wryly, shaking his head.

'It's an annual occurrence. I learned after last year that it's best to pack early and watch the fun.'

'Smart plan.'

They sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the occasional running of feet and the distant shouts of people outside the room.

'Dumbledore told you about Umbridge, didn't he?' asked Sirius, breaking the silence.

Harry nodded.

'I'm not going to tell you that it's going to be easy and fun, because it isn't. Umbridge is a foul woman who will stop at nothing to get her share of power. She will try to discredit you and Dumbledore as much as possible.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry. 'Dumbledore told me to keep my head down and keep working on my studies and Occlumency practice.'

'This time, I agree with him,' said Sirius. 'Although, as a Marauder, I'd be lying if I said you shouldn't give your own back to her. I'm sure Prongs and Moony would say the same thing, too.'

Harry grinned at that. 'I promise I'll do what I can to infuriate her without being caught.'

'Couldn't have asked for anything more,' said Sirius with a wide grin. 'And to that end, I want you to have this.'

He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small square package wrapped in muddy brown paper. Harry took it, feeling the insides with his fingers.

'What is it?' he asked.

'Go on, open it,' said Sirius.

Harry pulled off the paper to reveal a small, square, hand-held mirror. It looked very old; it was quite dirty, but apart from that, it seemed rather ordinary. He stared at the glass, his own reflection blinking back at him.

'What is it?' he asked again, examining the reverse side now.

'Say my name into it,' said Sirius with a smirk. Harry glanced up and saw that Sirius was holding a mirror of his own.

His eyebrows raised sceptically, Harry held up the mirror in his hand to his face and said, 'Sirius.'

For a moment, his breath misted the surface of the glass; a second later, however, the fog faded away as his reflection rippled, to be replaced with the face of Sirius.

'Alright, Harry?' said Sirius, grinning. Harry heard his voice normally from where he was seated right next to him and through the mirror as well.

'Wow,' Harry breathed, and his voice echoed softly in Sirius' mirror. 'What is this?'

'These are two-way mirrors,' explained Sirius, cancelling the connection with a tap of his wand. 'James and I developed this in our fourth year. We used to use these to talk to each other when we were in separate detentions.'

'These are brilliant!' exclaimed Harry. 'Would these work between here and Hogwarts?'

'I think so,' said Sirius, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 'I've reapplied the charms on these so that they don't fade too soon, so I think they can work for that distance. Can't hurt to try though, can it?' he added, grinning at Harry's delighted expression.

'Definitely!' said Harry, his spirits lifting. He had been worried about Sirius being alone here at Grimmauld Place; with this mirror, though, he could now converse with Sirius as often as he wanted. He also had a funny feeling that he'd definitely need it this year at Hogwarts.

The door banged open for the third time, revealing Ron once again, carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper and an ecstatic expression on his face.

'Mum just got back from Diagon Alley – look!' he said excitedly. He dropped the package onto his bed and unwrapped it, revealing the new Cleansweep Seven he'd been gifted by his parents as a gift for becoming a prefect.

'That's brilliant, Ron!' said Harry happily.

'Nice one,' agreed Sirius.

'Thanks,' said Ron, grinning at them. 'Blimey, I can't wait to fly this at Hogwarts…'

Sirius got up from the bed and stretched languidly.

'I expect Molly will be up soon to get you all downstairs for dinner,' he said. 'I'll see you there, Harry, Ron.'

Ron waved vaguely at Sirius, still examining his broom. Harry watched Sirius cross the room and open the door, then a sudden idea occurred to him.

'Sirius, wait a moment.'

Sirius turned around, looking curiously at Harry, who'd come to stand next to him.

'I want – I mean, could you make another pair of these mirrors for me, please?' he asked.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. 'For whom?'

'Err – well, I was thinking Daphne and I could use it…'

Sirius' smirk was too knowing for Harry's liking. He felt himself going red.

'Just to talk, you know,' he added hastily, wishing his face would stop burning. 'I mean, she's in Slytherin, and it'll be difficult to talk to her outside of classes…'

Sirius considered him for a moment – a moment that seemed to stretch for a long while in Harry's opinion.

'I'll see what I can do,' he finally replied, grinning broadly. Harry could tell he was thoroughly enjoying stalling on this.

Harry glared at him, but Sirius just laughed, ruffled his hair once more, then left the room.


To be continued…