Chapter Two - The Grim
"Time to get your wand now, Mr Potter. Ollivanders is just across the street."
"Great, Professor," Harry said, distracted. His eyes were locked on the dog who hadn't moved a muscle since making eye contact with Harry.
"A wizard's wand is his most powerful tool, Mr Potter. This is the most important part of our trip today, and I should like to see you treat it with the appropriate gravity."
Harry turned to Snape at his sharper tone, "Yes Professor, sorry. I was distracted for a second." Harry turned back to look at the spot he'd just seen the dog, but it was gone.
Snape cleared his throat, presenting Harry's cauldron. "I have placed a weightless charm on this cauldron. Take it in your hand."
Harry reluctantly looked back to Snape and grabbed the handle, barely noticing any weight at all. "Wow, that's amazing, Professor." He feigned some excitement.
"Yes, yes. But what do you think will happen if I drop your books here in the cauldron? What would you feel?" Snape relieved Harry's other arm of the stack of books and hovered them above the cauldron with a raised eyebrow.
Harry snorted. "I would feel nothing, of course."
Snape raised his other eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
Harry nodded.
Snape dropped the pile of books, which landed with a thud in the cauldron.
Harry didn't react at all, being quite familiar with the feather-weight charm, and honestly a bit confused about what was happening.
"Correct, Mr Potter. And why did you think that? Most muggleborns, or muggle-raised like yourself, find such a thing quite counter-intuitive."
Harry looked down at the cauldron thoughtfully, trying to think of a reason other than 'because I've studied magic for five years.'
"Uh, because the spell wants to make it weightless, whether there's books or not?"
Snape looked, dare Harry say it, satisfied.
"Bordering on correct. If you had said I, rather than the spell, had wanted to make the cauldron weightless you would have given a rudimentary, but essentially accurate description of intent. I would award you house points if you were sorted."
Harry was in shock. House points? From Snape?
"I tested you here, Mr Potter, so that you would have in mind the beginnings of an understanding of magic. The wand that you are about to purchase will open up ways of thinking that are alien to what you have thus far been used to."
"However," Snape conceded, "it seems you do possess some modicum of magical intuition. Perhaps you will prove to be a teachable student after all. We shall see." And with that, Snape gestured to the doorway of Ollivanders, expectant.
Harry blinked away his befuddlement with a final look to where he'd seen that large black dog. Had that been Sirius or were his eyes playing tricks on him? With little choice, Harry reluctantly walked into Ollivanders.
"Ah, Mr Potter." Ollivander whispered in his ethereal tones from behind the counter. What was it, Harry thought, with old wizards and that phrase? "Welcome. Welcome. And Severus, I hope you are in good keeping. How is your wand serving you? Thirteen inch rosewood with dragon heartstring, surprisingly flexible, as I recall.
Snape nodded. "As reliable as ever."
"Good, good…" He trailed off looking at Harry. "I am curious, Mr Potter, which of my collection will be suited to you. The wand chooses the wizard, after all, and knowing what I do about my wands, it tells me a great deal about the wizard."
With a flick of his wand, a tape measure was sent flying over to Harry, which went ahead and measured Harry of its own accord, including strange proportions such as the length of his ears and even the bridge of his nose.
Without seeming to take any notes, Ollivander wandered out of sight into the library of wands behind his counter, muttering to himself, "Interesting, interesting."
The first few attempts went as Harry had expected — some felt as lifeless as a twig and others he dropped, too hot in his hand. Harry wished he could just speed up the process and tell Ollivander which wand was his.
Ollivander eventually brought out a very familiar wand, muttering again, "I wonder… holly with phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple."
Harry took it gently, anticipating the intoxicating feeling of warmth. He waved it and a stream of weak sparks drifted on an invisible wind. He felt nothing but a slight jolt.
Ollivander snatched the wand from Harry's hand, humming to himself. At Harry's look of shock Ollivander laughed. "Have patience, Mr Potter. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard, not the wizard the wand."
Harry fought the urge to tell him the wand had chosen him already. Ollivander was wrong, that was his wand.
Harry fumed as Ollivander shuffled back out of view. After a short moment, in which Harry tried to suppress his anger and ignore Snape's raised eyebrow, Ollivander returned from the stacks. "Perhaps… Try this for me please, Mr Potter."
Harry waved the wand, casting a silvery mist that decayed into twinkling light, like a curtain of falling stars. Ollivander sighed with satisfaction. "It is intriguing that you felt an attachment to the previous wand. So I wondered, perhaps not the brother, but something still similar."
"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, frowning down at the unfamiliar wand. "What is it made of?"
"This particular wand is an unusual pairing. One I've sold only a few times before. Yew with dragon heartstring, twelve inches. A powerful wand in the right hands. I knew, after your reaction to the holly wand, that you might be chosen by this one. The previous wand was paired with a phoenix feather that came from a unique bird, a bird that has given to me only once before, to the wand that caused you that scar on your head."
"And this wand, sir?" Harry asked, wary.
"Yew," Ollivander intoned, deeply, "hewn from an equally unique tree. Only one other branch was taken and used to create another wand, the wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Great," Harry said. Feeling slightly hollow inside as he stared down at the alien wand that looked so much like that of his nemesis. It seemed he couldn't escape whatever strings of fate tied him and Voldemort together. He felt the loss of his old wand keenly, like the death of an old friend. With all that was strange and unwelcoming around him, it would have been nice to have it back.
Snape surprised Harry by chiming in, "The wand might choose the wizard, but the wizard chooses how to wield it. Don't be intimidated, Mr Potter. Many wizards have used powerful wands to do nothing more than household charms. You are the master of your destiny."
"Well said, Professor," Ollivander bowed his head. "The wand is an expression of potential, not an arbiter of the inevitable. But, still, the Dark Lord achieved great things — terrible things certainly, but great. I am not the only one, perhaps, who will see the potential for greatness in you, Harry Potter."
With a muted thanks and a simmering annoyance at the dark turn in his thoughts that Ollivander had facilitated, Harry paid for his new wand and quickly left the dusty confines of the shop. Snape, probably sensing Harry's dour mood, suggested a break for lunch, despite the fact that they were nearly finished.
Harry agreed, thankful, and walked with Snape back down the street until he realised, in a sudden panic, where they were headed. They were walking towards the Leaky Cauldron and to Quirrell.
"Uh, sir, I'm not sure I'm hungry enough for lunch yet. Could we get an ice cream instead?" Harry cringed at asking Snape, of all people, to take him for an ice cream. He could see the gears turning in Snape's head as he figured out the most conclusive no in his considerable vocabulary.
"I'm feeling a bit strange after talking to Mr Ollivander," Harry said, "and I could use something nice to cheer me up. I promise I'll eat a sandwich as soon as I get home. I won't skip on my meals or anything."
Snape seemed to battle furiously with himself for a moment. "Fine," he ground out, "but one scoop only, and I'll not have any complaints about being hungry in half an hour. You'll wait until you get home."
Harry was relieved to be avoiding the Leaky Cauldron, though the alternative of ice cream with Snape was hardly appealing. Had Snape even eaten ice cream before?
Harry sat down at one of the tables while Snape went off with Harry's order of Fig 'n Fudge Fantasy. Harry sat waiting, observing the passing crowds. Once again a strange feeling passed over Harry. His eyes snapped to his right to see a large black dog, tail wagging, at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The dog took a cautious step towards Harry.
Harry stared, heartbeat climbing. That was definitely Sirius.
Being much closer than before, Harry could now make out the recognisable features of Sirius' Animagus form, including the conspicuously intelligent eyes.
As the scruffy looking dog padded closer, Harry started making a shooing motion. The dog paused at first but soon continued, slower than before. Harry panicked and looked around for something to throw. He couldn't believe Sirius would be stupid enough to walk up to him in broad daylight. Snape was just inside, for Merlin's sake. He couldn't bear the thought of Sirius being caught and shipped back to Azkaban, or worse, kissed on the spot, just because he couldn't wait to find Harry in a more secluded spot.
Harry picked up a small stone and threw it towards the dog, careful to avoid anyone walking in the way. Sirius side-stepped, looking up, clearly shocked.
"Harry!" Snape snapped, moving over to their table, ice cream in hand. "I am disappointed I have to tell you this — it's unbecoming to throw stones at stray dogs."
Harry wanted to scream, baffled at how this situation was real. "I'm sorry, sir, I— uh, I'm just scared of dogs. My aunt's Rottweilers once chased me up a tree for a whole evening. I just wanted to scare it away."
Snape frowned, but no longer looked like he was going to tell Harry off further.
"Dogs can be feral creatures if not properly trained, but most dogs are gentle unless provoked. You'll be introduced, at some point I'm sure, to Hagrid's boarhound. It's best if you start learning to deal with your fear."
Snape looked towards the dog, plucking a chunk of mango out of his ice cream and offering it to Harry.
"I want you to feed that dog and let it come up to you. If you feel like flinching, take deep breaths and try to empty your mind."
With unwelcome flashbacks to his Occlumency lessons, Harry held in his grumbles and took the offered mango. He turned to Sirius, who had been staring at Snape with undisguised distrust. Harry bent down, feeling like an idiot, and proffered the chunk of slimy mango to Sirius. "Here boy, do you want some mango from Professor Snape?"
The dog cocked his head and sniffed the air, as if suspicious of the offered treat. He soon began moving closer though, until his nose was right in Harry's palm.
"There's a good Padfoot," Harry whispered gently, looking Sirius in the eye with a significant twitch of his eyebrows.
"He doesn't seem to want it, sir," Harry said, turning to Snape to avoid laughing at Sirius' slack-jawed dog expression.
Sirius quickly lapped up the mango from Harry's palm and started wagging his tail madly, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
"He seems to have enjoyed it just fine," said Snape. Sitting down at the table. "Off with you now, mutt," he said with a wave of his hand. Sirius trotted over to Snape and began slobbering on his foot.
"Oh. That's revolting." Snape grimaced down at his foot and shifted away. As he reached for his wand, Sirius quickly moved away towards Harry and rested his head on his knee.
Harry laughed, even as his leg got damp, and Snape grumbled, "Well, I'm glad to see you quickly master your fear," but Snape did not seem very glad.
"Can I take him home, do you think, Professor? I reckon the Dursleys would love him back in Little Whinging, Surrey." If Snape found it strange that Harry felt the need to insert everything short of his postcode into that sentence, he didn't show it. But Sirius certainly noticed. Without wasting any time he whipped his head from Harry's lap and bounded away down the street.
Harry was glad that Snape was too busy wiping his shoe to think about the dog's strange behaviour. They finished their ice cream in what Harry thought was as close to a companionable silence as was possible with Snape. When Harry had finished the last bite of his cone, Snape got to his feet. "Don't forget your new belongings, Mr Potter."
Harry carefully picked up his things, avoiding looking at his new wand, even stored in its box, and made his way over to Madam Malkin's with Snape.
Fortunately, since Harry and Snape were in Diagon Alley a bit earlier than Harry had originally been with Hagrid, there was no sign of Draco Malfoy or his parents as they were welcomed into the store. Since Snape had begun to treat Harry with something resembling friendliness, Harry half expected him to insist on Harry getting robes pre-trimmed with Slytherin Green. Fortunately, he seemed as uninterested as Harry was with the idea of robe fitting and had already relegated himself to the waiting area. Harry endured his fitting with unease, watching for a flash of gelled white hair or the phrase 'my father will hear about this!'
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the shopping trip came to its conclusion at the Magical Menagerie next door. Snape began a reluctant explanation of the various types of magical creatures that wizards made their pets but Harry quickly pointed to a beautiful white bird, "That one. She's mine."
Snape seemed to not care either way, and, once again, left Harry to it as he cooed over Hedwig and purchased all her things. As Harry's payment was being handled, he watched, eyes narrowed, as a pair of rats scurried around the bottom of a small cage. A good reminder. Harry's own rat problem would need sorting soon.
Hedwig's cage in one hand and cauldron in the other, Harry followed Snape over to an alcove in between two shops. Snape gave a very lacklustre explanation that left Harry woefully unprepared for the dizzying experience that followed. Only Snape's firm grip on his shoulder kept him from landing on his face as they Apparated to Privet Drive.
It had been nearly a year since Harry had been back here and, even five years in the past, it looked the same as he last remembered — clean, quiet, soulless.
They walked down the road towards number four, and Harry knew Petunia would be furious when she realised he'd walked in plain view of the neighbours with a cauldron and an owl. He made an effort to meet the eye of every neighbour he could.
"I would like a word with your Aunt and Uncle, before I leave you, Mr Potter," said Snape.
Harry nodded, a look of confusion on his face, "Sure, Professor."
After a moment of silence Harry had a thought. "Is this about my clothes?"
"The clothes, yes, Mister Potter, but not only that. I've taught enough students to know the signs of an— unpleasant upbringing when I see one."
Harry felt his cheeks redden. He hated people bringing up the Dursleys, and Snape, of all people…
Snape continued, "I once knew your Aunt, when we were both children. My familiarity may help, and hopefully not hinder. However, your aunt has always been a bitter and unpleasant woman so I will make no promises that I can help you. Professor Dumbledore is the one you should talk to if you need it."
It was more than any adult had done for him, so Harry wasn't going to object. The fact that it was Snape, however, was quite strange. Sirius, of course, had described very specific examples of revenge he had in mind, but this was a first in practice.
They reached the front door and Snape gave three smart knocks. After a moment, Aunt Petunia's face appeared in the crack, and, upon seeing Harry, she curled her lip, as if smelling something awful. "So they brought you back. I suppose you should come in, before the neighbours see."
Too late for that, Harry thought proudly.
"Petunia," Snape intoned. She looked at him for the first time, as if she hadn't even registered Snape as a person before. After a moment of casual disdain, her face alighted to shock.
"Severus? Severus Snape?" Her face morphed to an ugly scowl. "You turn up to my doorstep after all these years, my sister's son burdened with these freakish things. Was it not enough that you took Lily away to that awful castle up in who-knows-where. Leave my property immediately."
"What's going on, Petunia?" Vernon appeared, having apparently been roused by the angry tones of his wife. He stopped behind her as he saw Harry and Snape standing outside. With a scowl he turned back around and disappeared, muttering to himself.
Snape looked at Petunia with a stormy expression. "You loathsome woman, talking about Lily as if you cared about her for a second. You always were jealous." He turned to Harry, barely restraining his anger, "I do apologise, Mr Potter. I think it best if you head in while your Aunt and I have a few words. If you have any problems, you will owl me."
Turning back to Petunia, he spoke quietly, dangerously, "If you thought nobody would notice the signs of mistreatment on this child, you are more of an imbecile than I thought. You should have known I, of all people, would notice." He turned to Harry again and motioned him in. "Please, Harry, take your things inside. I will see you in a months time, and I expect to see you dressed in better clothes at the station than the tattered rags you came in today." Harry didn't know whether it was fate, skill, or luck that caused his clothes to de-transfigure at that exact moment, but it made Aunt Petunia shriek.
Harry skirted round his aunt with a muttered thanks to Snape and walked slowly up the stairs. He tried to catch the rest of Snape's soft tones but one of the neighbours was mowing their lawn, and the sound drowned it out.
Sighing, he walked to Dudley's second room, which, just like the first time, had been set aside for Harry. He could tell by the fact that half of Dudley's 'broken' toys had been removed, Dudley not being able to stand the idea of Harry using even his castaways. Harry placed his stuff down and flopped onto the bed. He stared at his ceiling and groaned. The last twenty-four hours had been completely surreal. Time-travel; Sirius escaping Azkaban again — but at the wrong time; Snape taking him to get ice-cream and now putting the fear of God into Aunt Petunia, and it was barely half-past two.
Harry pulled out his first-year potions textbook from his cauldron with another sigh. May as well get started on this while he waited for Sirius to turn up. He didn't know whether Sirius had risked Apparating or had decided to run all the way to Surrey, so he could be waiting a while.
It was late, and Harry was sneaking back to his room from the upstairs bathroom, rubbing his eyes and trying to stay awake. As he closed the door behind him he paused, thinking he'd heard a noise. After a moment he heard the sound again as something hit his window with a slight tap.
Rushing over, Harry fumbled a bit with the latch and opened the window. An acorn smacked him right in the forehead. He heard a wheeze from below and he could just make out the figure of Sirius crouching next to a bush and waving.
Harry tried to indicate that he was coming, but Sirius made no sign that he understood, so Harry quickly shut the window. He paused briefly to grab a blanket, then sneaked out of his room. With five years of late-night exploring under his belt, Harry easily went unseen despite having no cloak. He grabbed a key as he passed the front door, picked up some chocolate biscuits from the kitchen, and headed to the back garden. Since it was about eleven-thirty on a Sunday, his uncle was snoozing in his chair while the other two Dursleys were asleep upstairs. Harry made sure to open the back door quietly on his way out.
Harry turned and was immediately embraced by Sirius. They stayed that way for a little while, Harry ignoring the smell and Sirius ignoring the damp Harry left on his chest.
"It's good to see you, Sirius." Harry said, quietly.
Sirius took Harry's face in his hands. "You're so young, Harry. I almost didn't recognise you."
Harry laughed quietly and Sirius dropped his hands to Harry's shoulders. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"
Harry nodded, noticing for the first time the deep bags under Sirius' eyes and the slight shaking of his legs. He guided him to the back of the garden until they made it to the shed. Harry shimmied the bolt open as quietly as he could and closed the door softly behind them. There were no windows, so Harry switched on a small lamp, hoping the dim light didn't leak out of any cracks.
Sirius let out a long sigh of satisfaction as he relaxed into one of Uncle Vernon's beach chairs. "Whispering 'Padfoot' was a stroke of genius, Harry," he chuckled, "I was starting to think I truly was dead when I saw you and Snape eating ice-cream together."
Although Sirius had laughed, Harry could see the shaking of his hands, and the way his eyes never left Harry, as if looking away meant he'd disappear.
"Me too," Harry smiled ruefully, "I was thinking of all sorts of theories until you showed up."
They fell into silence, and Harry would have thought Sirius had fallen asleep in that moment if it wasn't for the sound of slow munching.
Sirius covered a quick burp, "Pardon me," and after a pause, "So we're in the past then."
Harry nodded, "Yep. Seems so."
Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I assume you fell through the veil after me."
"Well," Harry said, scratching the back of his own head, "Not so much 'fell' through as 'jumped', really."
Sirius smiled. "I did wonder. Doing foolish things like that's part of your inheritance. I—" He paused, licking his lips, "I realise I called you James, just before Bellatrix cursed me in the back." He leaned forwards, "I'm sorry about that, Harry, in the heat of the moment it just reminded me—"
Harry shook his head, looking away. "No, Sirius, it doesn't matter. Really."
Sirius leaned back again with a sigh. "Good, good. I am sorry though, Harry, I truly am, about what happened in the ministry. I knew that death was a possibility when we stormed the ministry, but this…"
Harry once again shook his head and looked away, hands clenched. "No, Sirius. Really, that was entirely my fault. If I'd just listened to Hermione, if I'd just listened to you even, used your mirror to check if you were okay." Harry shook head and put his face in his hands.
Harry felt hands on his shoulders as Sirius knelt in front of him.
"Oh, Harry, please, don't blame yourself. You were incredibly brave. You did more to fight Voldemort, with a bunch of school children— sorry to call you all that, but its true. A year we've known Voldemort was back and what did the Order have to show for it? Arthur in St. Mungo's and a few whispered words to the Auror department." He shook Harry's shoulders gently.
"You must not blame yourself, Harry. Older and wiser wizards failed in a great number of ways for you to end up in the situation you have."
Harry looked up through his fringe, giving Sirius a small, if fleeting, smile.
Sirius sat back in his seat and started to devour the rest of Harry's biscuits.
"I heard it, by the way." Harry said softly.
Sirius took a moment to swallow and brush the crumbs away. "Heard what, Harry?"
"The Prophecy. Before I dropped it, I heard it whispered in my head when I picked it up. It said—"
"Not now!" Sirius growled.
Harry stopped immediately.
"Sorry, Harry. I know it's very unlikely we'll be overheard, and you're probably dying to get this off your chest, but it's too important. The last time this prophecy was spoken out loud, someone listening in caused all this." He gestured around them.
Harry nodded his understanding. "Then when?"
"I'm sorry to ask you, Harry, to stay with the Dursleys a little longer. Grimmauld Place is unfit for human habitation. I'll need a little while to make sure its safe and set up the right wards, and right now…" he gestured to himself with a wry smile, "I'm quite unfit myself. I need a few weeks before I can get you out of here."
Harry had been nodding along, "I get it. It's fine. I've managed the Dursleys my whole life, another few weeks is nothing if I get to never see them again," he swallowed, "and move in with you."
Sirius gripped Harry's hand with his own. "Thank you, Harry, you'll be out of here in no time, and those stupid muggles can go and spread their unpleasantness somewhere far away from you."
Harry grinned, and it transitioned into a yawn.
Sirius snorted. "I think we're both a bit conked after the last couple of days, eh?"
Harry laughed. "I don't know if I've ever been this tired in my life. Oh!" He exclaimed. "I brought you a blanket. I hope you don't mind—"
"This is five star accommodation for Padfoot, don't worry about me." Sirius winked at Harry. "Now get yourself to bed, I'll send over Kreacher or an owl or something to let you know when I'm going to be arriving. I can already think of a few pranks we can pull for the good old Dursleys."
Harry's smile stretched to match Sirius', "Sounds good to me."
Like most nights in the month since he'd arrived, Harry slept like a log. However, this time, he actually did have something to wake up for and was nearly late. He lurched out of bed and stumbled around his room getting dressed.
Uncle Vernon was still at home, since he never worked in August, which was great for Harry. What was about to occur would require all of the Dursleys present for the greatest effect.
Harry gathered all his things together, which had been mostly packed up and ready for the last week, in case Sirius finished up earlier than planned. Harry made sure to give Hedwig a bit of time to drink her water and eat some food pellets before he lifted her cage and shuffled out the room, dragging his trunk with his other hand. He put everything down at the top of the stairs and quietly made his way down. He stood in the open doorway to the living room. The Dursleys had their backs to him as they watched the ten o'clock news, as per usual.
Harry cleared his throat. His Aunt and Uncle turned their heads and looked at him. "I'm leaving now," he said in his small voice.
Vernon snorted. "And wander the streets like a hooligan, besmirching our good name. I don't think so, boy."
The sound of breaking news drew their attention back to the TV. Ted, the grey-haired presenter, was warning the public of a dangerous escaped convict. Harry struggled to control his mirth as a picture of Sirius' face appeared on the screen.
They were interrupted again by a knock on the patio window.
Aunt Petunia screamed and Vernon lurched to his feet.
Slouching, forehead pressed against the glass doors was Sirius. A wand fell from his sleeve into his hand and he took a step forward and began to wade through the glass as if it were jelly, and into the room.
Aunt Petunia seemed close to fainting and Vernon had stumbled behind his arm chair. "Stay away, you freak! I will call the police if you come any further," he bellowed. Dudley hadn't moved from his chair and watched in horrified fascination, continuing to eat his popcorn.
Sirius regarded Harry's Aunt and Uncle darkly. "My name is Sirius Black. You may have heard of me." He cocked his head towards the television, which was currently doing its job of spreading caution admirably. "I am Harry Potter's godfather and I've come to take him away."
Vernon blustered, "I refuse to be intimidated by your kind—"
"Oh but Dursley," Sirius snarled, "you will be intimidated." He raised his wand and Vernon flinched. "If you breathe a single word of this to anyone, I will know. If you mutter so much as an angry word about Harry ever again, I will know."
He waved his wand and with a bang, the door to the cupboard under the stairs flung open, a pulsing light shining out. "I should already curse you for keeping my godson locked up like a house elf, but out of respect for Lily, I will leave you only with a promise. If Harry says the word, I will not hold back."
The Dursleys looked over at Harry in fear. Harry looked to Sirius, "Will you put me under your stairs, sir? I don't want to go back there."
"No, young Harry. You are my heir, and thus inheritor to my fortune and many mansions. You will never be mistreated again."
Harry decided to wrap this up before Sirius went any further off script. He turned to Vernon.
"I need you to take me to the station on the first of September, Uncle. I think Sirius will struggle getting through security, for obvious reasons."
Vernon cleared his throat as he looked between Harry and Sirius. He nodded haltingly.
"Excellent," said Sirius with a clap of his hands. The cupboard door shut with a slam. "Good riddance, Dursleys, and remember, I'm listening." He tapped his wand to his ear and side-stepped out the room.
Harry scampered after him. "My things are at the top of the stairs," he whispered, and Sirius levitated them down for him with a flick making Hedwig yelp in surprise. They Apparated in a crack of displaced air.
They appeared in the spacious downstairs living room of 12 Grimmauld Place.
"That was fun, Harry. You should let me do that more often."
"That did feel pretty great," Harry said, "but I don't think bullying muggles is a habit we should get into."
"It's justice with those particular muggles," Sirius muttered.
"Well anyway," Harry said, "I think they were actually more intimidated by Snape than by you. Aunt Petunia didn't even look at me for a week after he visited."
Sirius blinked, "When did Snape scare the Dursleys?"
"When he dropped me back from Diagon Alley." Harry said, taking a moment to look around the familiarly gothic room.
"Well I imagine they were intimidated, Snivellus does have a scarily poor manner, not to mention his hygiene."
Harry gave him a look. "He was actually surprisingly un-Snape like. I think this version of Snape likes me, a bit."
Sirius looked sceptical, putting Harry's luggage down. "If you say so."
Sirius clapped his hands. "Right then, enough talk about Snape and the Dursleys. I'll show you to your room in a bit, but I think its probably time we had a proper chat about some important things, don't you?"
Harry followed Sirius to the so called 'thinking corner', though it seemed to Harry to be more of a 'drinking corner' from the vast array of wizardly beverages lined next to two cognac chairs.
Harry grew nervous as they both sat down. His thoughts, which had previously been merrily abuzz with his departure from the Dursleys, now turned sour.
Sirius flicked his wand and a slight hum invaded the silence. "Muffliato charm," Sirius explained, "I'd rather not have Kreacher listening in, even if he can't do anything."
Harry nodded, collecting his thoughts.
"Do you want me to start with the prophecy? Or, shall we talk about…" Harry trailed off, gesturing to himself and Sirius.
"Lets begin with the prophecy," Sirius replied. "As strange as our current situation is, it doesn't make the prophecy any less important."
Harry nodded. "Alright. Well, I guess I better tell it to you. I didn't dare write it down anywhere just in case, but I'm certain I've remembered it right." He took a deep breath.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not."
Harry swallowed, his mouth dry.
"And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…" Harry avoided looking up for a few seconds, but when Sirius was silent, he glanced up at him. Sirius' face was grim. He clutching at the crystal glass in his hands with white knuckles.
"Lily and James are such bastards," Sirius groaned.
"Sirius?"
Sirius looked up at Harry, his eyes pained.
"They never told me there was a prophecy, Harry, only that something meant Voldemort would target you. I feel so stupid, they were reassuring me that they would be alright, but they must have known... There was no way Voldemort would ever let them live."
His hand reached out and grasped Harry's own.
"Listen to me, Harry. We'll get you through this. You've already come this far with so little help." He shook his head. "I should have been here all these years, protecting you, helping you prepare, tracking down Voldemort—"
"No, Sirius. You can't blame yourself, please." Harry implored, shaking Sirius' clenched hand. "You're here now. We've got this— this advantage now. I mean, maybe this is the 'power' the prophecy was referring to, maybe us ending up here, back at the beginning, is what will let me defeat him."
Sirius released a long breath and straightened slightly. "Yes, perhaps, Harry. I wouldn't be surprised. You're right, I'm sorry. You're so like your parents, I should be the one reassuring you." He chuckled darkly. "I'm still not in my right mind, fully, even though my time in Azkaban was brief this time, and being in this house… there are a lot of memories I'd rather forget."
Harry shifted in his seat, "Hopefully, we'll make some new memories here, better ones, I mean."
Sirius smiled at him, a genuinely happy smile for the first time that day. "I like the sound of that, Harry. Now, if only we can find a silencing charm strong enough for my dear mother, that would be quite a start."
Harry grinned.
"There's always incendio if that doesn't work," said Harry.
Sirius laughed. "Now that's an idea."
They settled into a happier silence.
"I need some time to think this over, Harry. Prophecies are treacherous things," Sirius murmured.
Harry nodded his agreement. He'd been thinking of little else these past weeks and felt no closer to understanding what it meant.
Besides the prophecy, though, there were a few other things he'd been thinking about. "Sirius, do you have a paper from the first of this month?"
Sirius hummed. "Should do, Kreacher's been bringing them to me since I arrived. Hold on a second. Kreacher!"
A small pop heralded the arrival of the decrepit looking house elf.
"Kreacher, bring us the paper from the first of August."
Kreacher looked confused and started rubbing his ears.
"I think the charm is blocking him." Harry said.
"Oh, of course." Sirius flicked his wand. "Bring us the paper from the first of the month, Kreacher."
Kreacher heard this time, bowing to Sirius and eyeing Harry with a look of distrust. "Of course, Master."
As Kreacher popped away, Sirius eyed the place he left with a look of disgust. Harry had a hard time feeling any different, his thoughts turning to a conversation he had with Kreacher the night he'd gone to the ministry. Kreacher had clearly lied to him about Sirius not being in the house, and if it weren't for that, everything that happened after could have been avoided.
But as he watched Kreacher return, and saw the way he was dressed, and the dismissive tone of Sirius, Harry felt he could hardly blame the elf. Looking at Sirius' face, though, Harry thought it unwise to verbalise his thoughts on the subject. Maybe Hermione could get through to him eventually.
"So explain this to me, Harry," said Sirius. "My memory of current events in nineteen ninety-one is, perhaps, understandably, lacking," Sirius said.
"Where to begin," Harry replied, sitting back.
Sirius flicked his wand and the newspaper drifted into Harry's lap. Harry looked down at the front cover with a relieved breath.
GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST - SIRIUS BLACK'S FIRST TARGET?
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts last night on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of recently escaped master criminal, and You-Know-Who's right hand man, Sirius Black. Gringotts goblins have today insisted that nothing was taken. The vault in question had in fact been emptied the very same day.
Harry lowered the paper. "You remember the story I told you of us stopping Voldemort from getting the philosopher's stone? Well things started with this."
Harry placed the paper on the table between them.
"In my first year, I was with Hagrid when he took the stone from a vault at Gringotts, though it wasn't until later that we figured that out. Hagrid, or someone else, I guess, must have still emptied the vault yesterday, despite not going with me. I was worried that, because of your escape, Voldemort would get his hands on the stone."
Sirius whistled, "That would have been bad."
"I'm glad it's safe, for now at least," Harry continued, "but we need to prevent Voldemort from getting the stone again."
"So the stone is in Hogwarts right now?" Sirius asked.
"Right," said Harry, "and like before, Quirrell will try and get the stone from under Dumbledore's nose, and if things play out anywhere close to last time, it'll be up to us to stop him."
Sirius started to object but Harry waved them away, "I can't exactly tell my Professors about Quirrell, can I? I'm not meant to know anything, and even if I did, they didn't listen to me last time."
Sirius settled down at Harry's explanation. "I suppose that would raise some unwanted questions, and beyond even the question of wisdom, I fear you're right; even trying to explain our situation to anyone right now would be an exercise in futility." He gestured to them both. "An eleven year old and a convict; hardly the most credible of sources."
Harry nodded, but looked uncertain. "I know. I'm just worried that we're going to mess things up."
"And even more importantly," Sirius said softly, "if this 'power' the prophecy speaks about is truly this time travel business, the last thing we want to do is give the game away."
"You're right," Harry said, "I hadn't thought of that."
"And it's not that I don't trust Dumbledore," Sirius waved his hand, "but we can't afford any mistakes. For now at least, unless you are in real danger, I think we must keep this to ourselves."
Harry agreed. He really wanted to trust Dumbledore, but what happened with the prophecy and the department of mysteries had been playing in his mind since his arrival. Dumbledore had withheld the prophecy from him, he'd failed over and over again to keep Harry safe, and honestly, Harry's last year, being kept in the dark about all that was going on, was one of the most frustrating experiences of his life. Wasn't Harry the one who had faced Voldemort over and over and survived? Wasn't Harry the reason, even, that anyone knew Voldemort was back? The fact that Dumbledore knew all that but still treated him like a useless child made Harry furious. If Harry told Dumbledore everything now, he knew Dumbledore would do the same again, and that was something Harry couldn't bare.
"I agree, Sirius. I don't think Dumbledore would be the worst person to tell, but at least for now, until we can get a better handle on things..."
"And your friends?" Sirius asked, looking at Harry gently.
Harry clenched his fists. "They're not my friends yet, I guess. And they're really only eleven year olds. I— I don't know what I'm going to do." Over this, Harry was truly torn. Unlike Dumbledore, Harry's friends had trusted him, and been by his side through everything Harry had faced. On the other hand, though, when it came down to it, it was always Harry and Voldemort, alone, and it was almost better that way. Harry had the opportunity here to not get them involved, and keep them safe.
Sirius leaned forward and put his hand on Harry's arm. "They're still your friends, Harry. I spent enough time with Ron and Hermione to know that they are the sort of friends that even time can't undo. The nature of your friendship may change, and they won't be the same as you remember, but I have no doubt that they'll love you one day just as much as they did before."
Harry nodded stiffly, taking a moment to compose himself. "I hope so." He looked up. "What about you? Are you going to contact Professor Lupin?"
Sirius sighed and leaned back. "I will, once my name is cleared, I think. I can't face Remus with the hatred he has for me right now. We bonded over cursing Peter last time, and that's unlikely to happen again. However," he said, voice low, "this time Peter won't escape justice. I'll make sure of that."
Harry frowned. "Sirius, are you mad? You are not getting yourself caught going after Wormtail again."
"Harry," Sirius implored. "We've got the jump on him this time. If you help me-"
"No. Sirius, I mean it," Harry tried to convey the panic he was feeling. "We really can't afford to risk you getting sent back to Azkaban. I really can't risk it, Sirius. I need you to be safe. I didn't jump through the bloody veil just for you to get yourself killed some other way."
Sirius calmed down slightly and sighed, "It's not your job to protect me, Harry. I can't just let you do it yourself. Peter might be a cowardly rat, but he's still a trained adult wizard. I can't let you put yourself in danger for my sake."
"I won't be in danger, Sirius. I promise. I've already thought of this and I've got a few ideas for how to expose him safely. Nobody will even know it was me. Please, it's just too risky for you to do anything. If you end up in Azkaban again, who is going to help me with everything else?"
Sirius deflated into his seat. "Fine, but I get to put my foot down if I think a plan is too risky, and I reserve the right to sleep in the Forbidden Forest again if there's even a hint of you needing my help."
Harry smiled, "I suppose that's okay, though if I have it my way, I won't have even made it to Hogwarts by the time Wormtail is caught."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, giving Harry a speculative look. "I'm intrigued."
Harry responded with a conspiratorial grin, "Well, I'll need your help learning a certain spell, but it'll go something like this…"
