Chapter 37: Little Lion Man
Harry woke the next day, numb and confused. He had no love for the Dursleys but that did not mean he wanted them dead. They were murdered, brutally, by someone trying to get to him. He felt no remorse for them but still was saddened that they died the way they did.
Thinking about the Grangers, he just couldn't stop thinking about the danger they were now in; all because of him. Sitting up in bed, Harry put his head in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw images of Hermione petrified. That shifted to images of the Grangers dead. Rocking slightly, Harry tried to make the images recede.
"Hey kid," Harry looked up to see Richard leaning on the doorframe. "What's going on?"
"I'm fine," Harry deflected, turning his head away from the doorway.
"You've been distant with me since you returned. As if you're ashamed or embarrassed."
"I failed," Harry said in a quiet voice. "Hermione was hurt; she could have been killed. I promised to keep her safe."
"You know," Richard sat down on the bed. "When Hermione was born and I held her for the first time, I promised I wouldn't let anything ever happen to her. I swore to protect her. Then, she started to walk and I followed her. I didn't want her to fall and hurt herself. Every time she almost fell, I stepped in. One time, I was on a call and I wasn't watching as closely as I usually do. She walked into the kitchen and fell. She cried and I dropped the phone to run to her. When I got there, I saw she had a small bump and you know what she did? She cried for a while and then she picked herself up and kept walking.
"That day I realized two things: One, I am not always going to be there for her and that's okay and two, if I keep anything from happening to her, nothing will ever happen to her. Yes, she might get hurt but she will learn how to pick herself up and persevere.
"My princess is the strongest girl you will ever find; she gets that from her mother. I've learned to step back and let her live her life. If she misbehaves, I'll correct it. If she's hurt, I'll try to heal it but I won't hover over her to keep her from all harm because that's just not possible. That's what it is to be a father: to worry that they'll get hurt but also to smile as they learn to thrive and endure.
"I know you're beating yourself up about her being petrified and you think you let me down but let me tell you this: you have made me more proud than I thought I ever could be. You have helped her come out of her shell; you've given her a place where she belongs. Yes, your letter terrified me but I also knew that my daughter was happy and a good bit of that is due to you."
"But I have so many people after me. What if they come after her? or Helen? or you?"
"You can't control that and you can't try to prevent everything bad from happening. Listen: you faced off with a gigantic snake, according to your letter. You stepped up to find the culprit who attacked my daughter and ensured nobody else would be hurt. That's exactly what I would have done.
"I am not upset with you, Harry. I am quite proud. You grew up in the harshest environment I could ever imagine. Most children who do become hard and aloof. Being denied love that long, they have no idea how to show love themselves. But you love with every fiber of your being. That's why Hermione being attacked was so hard for you and why you can't bear to see any of us in harm's way.
"You know, Hermione wrote us a letter a while back. She told us about the incident in Potions. She told us how you read to her to calm her down. You responded to her needs the way a true friend would. I'm proud of you, kid."
Tears welled in Harry's eyes. He had never heard that growing up. Sure he had heard that his parents would be proud of him but nobody had said that they were. Abandoning all control, he threw himself at Richard and hugged the man.
"I've never said this aloud," Harry said into Richards's shoulder. "But I love you guys. You've become so much more than I ever could have dreamed of than I ever hoped for. I'm sorry Hermione got hurt but I'll never be able to push you away, as much as there's a part of me screaming to do so. I wouldn't be the same without all three of you. Thank you."
"The feeling's mutual, kid," Richard squeezed Harry tight.
Hermione looked on from the doorway with a smile. She was passing by when she heard the last part of what Harry said and she felt the same.
"Richard always wanted a son, I think," Hermione turned her head to see Helen patting her eyes with a handkerchief. "He didn't show it much but he was saddened when the doctors told us we couldn't have another kid. Now, he's got the son he very much wanted."
"I've never seen Harry break like that," Hermione said. "He's always been strong, like a column that holds up the Acropolis."
"That's how he's had to be. Except now he realizes he's not holding up that building alone. All the other columns are taking the weight off him, so he doesn't feel like he's got to do it himself. When you lift that weight, it's amazing to see the changes it brings."
Helen watched Harry separate from Richard and stepped into the room.
"Alright, everyone. We need to leave within the next hour if we're going to make it to the goblins on time."
Harry nodded and got out of bed. A shower and a change later, he descended the stairs when a photograph caught his attention. On one of the bookshelves was a photo of Harry and Hermione in the Hospital Wing. There was a book open in Harry's lap and Hermione was tucked into his side. Hermione was smiling with tears in her eyes as Harry was caught mid-gesture.
"Your friend Colin sent that to us," Helen came up next to him. "He took that surreptitiously and thought we would like it. He even got Hedwig into delivering it somehow."
"It's a great photo," Harry was enamored. "Colin is an amazing photographer."
"He just sees the world differently. I'm glad he does."
Helen ran her hands over the picture frame. Harry moved along to get something to eat but Helen just stared at the photo for a while longer, wishing and hoping that she would soon hear the news that Harry was dating Hermione. Most young romances don't survive the test of time but she had a feeling this one would.
After breakfast, which Dobby prepared, the family piled into the car, heading for Diagon Alley. Before Harry knew it, they were standing before the bank. Walking in, they saw that the bank was not busy in the slightest. Stepping up to a teller, Harry bowed.
"May your battles be as legendary as your hoard," Harry said, making the goblin chuckle.
"Gripclaw is waiting for you," the teller gave his best goblin smile. "You remember the way?"
"If I get lost, I'll scream for help."
"Just be sure you don't wake the dragons when you do," the goblin retorted.
"If I do, please send your slowest goblin to help," Harry said. "I'll need to have someone I can outrun."
The teller laughed. It's nice to see a wizard understand our humor, he thought.
Harry led the Grangers back toward the office and knocked. Gripclaw bade them entry and Harry walked in.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Gripclaw shook his hand. "I've been told you have work for us."
"Yes, Gripclaw," Harry said. "I fought and killed a Basilisk last term and I was hoping to hire the Nation to render the carcass down."
"About how big would you say it was?"
Harry told them how big it was from his memory.
"That large? Would you mind sharing the battle with us?" Gripclaw dove into his desk and pulled out a gold orb. "This is a memory orb. We use it to save and view the memories of our best battles. Would you be willing to share it with me?"
Harry nodded and Gripclaw placed the orb on his temple.
"Now, I want you to recall the battle with the Basilisk in as much detail as you can."
Harry brought up the memory of Tom, of the Basilisk, and felt a pull on his forehead.
"Excellent!" Gripclaw ran a nail over the orb, to play the scene.
"Is there a way you could broadcast that?" Richard asked. "I would be curious to watch as well, if possible."
"There is a way but usually we only do it among the Nation. However, this one time, I think we can allow you to watch, so long as you don't tell wizards about this. They would undoubtedly try to steal it again. They tried a while back and all they got were prophecy orbs which are a pale imitation."
"I swear not to divulge the secrets of the Nation," Richard bowed as Hermione and Helen nodded.
Gripclaw took out a black basin with a clear liquid in it. He immersed the gold orb inside and then ran his palm over the lip. Light shot up from the liquid and the scene started to play just as Harry opened the chamber.
It was fascinating for Harry to watch himself fight the creature. When the Basilisk was revealed, Harry felt pressure around his hand. Looking down, he saw that Hermione had latched onto his hand, squeezing for all she was worth. Despite the pain, he found he enjoyed the sensation. The Grangers gasped when Harry faced off against the snake. Richard smacked him on his shoulder when Harry chanted "Kamehameha," smiling at him. When none of the attacks worked and Harry was forced to use the sword, Helen gasped while Richard cheered. Hermione kept her silence, though she did mold herself close to Harry. Again Harry appreciated the closeness but he wasn't about to say that aloud.
Hermione sobbed loudly as Harry lay on the ground spasming in death. When Fawkes came and flew down to heal Harry, she wrapped her arms around Harry and squeezed tightly.
I almost lost him, she thought. The thought worked her way through her entire body as she pulled him tighter. She wasn't sure what she would do without him and that thought in and of itself was brutal for her.
As the scene ended with the diary getting stabbed, Gripclaw pulled it out of the basin and cleaned it off.
"Most impressive, Mr. Potter," Gripclaw folded his hands on his desk. "You fought with honor, bravery, and pride. I am curious about the sword."
"According to Professor McGonagall," Harry said. "It is the Sword of Gryffindor which, according to the Sorting Hat, I am the most direct descendant."
"Fascinating," Gripclaw drummed his fingers on the desk. "Ragnok the Magnificent, the goblin from whom our current king is descended, crafted the sword for Gryffindor. We had an agreement from Gryffindor that he would use that sword for his lifetime and then return it to be displayed in these halls. However, when Gryffindor passed, the sword could not be found."
"The sword is currently on display in the headmaster's office," Harry said. "Do you need us to return it to you?"
"Out of respect to you and your battle here," Gripclaw gestured toward the orb. "We will extend the same offer to you that we did to Godric. Though upon your death, we would like to display that weapon here."
"I have no issue with that," Harry said. "I might need that sword again. Voldemort is clearly not gone and is hype focused on me. Should he return, it might serve the Heir of Gryffindor to fight the Heir of Slytherin with Gryffindor's sword."
"Back to business," Gripclaw said. "We would be honored to render the Basilisk for you. A snake that size would probably generate three million Galleons when rendered down to all the usable parts. Do you want anything held back?"
"I'd like a couple of fangs that I would like made into daggers with the venom imbibed into them. I would also like some of the hide, in case it can be made into battle robes or something similar. As spell resistant as that hide is, it would be useful.
"I also would like to give a stipend to Argus Filch, Colin Creevey, Cho Chang, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hermione Granger, Severus Snape and Ginny Weasley. I'd also like to give one to the family of Myrtle Warren, as well as to Nymphadora Tonks and John Dawlish who were injured when investigating the Chamber."
"Harry," Hermione nudged him. "I don't need…"
"You were a victim of this thing and as such you deserve to be compensated just like everyone else who was a victim."
"How much would you like the stipend to be?" Gripclaw was busy taking notes.
"You said this carcass would net three million Galleons?" Gripclaw nodded to the question. "500 Galleons per victim sounds fair. What will the goblins take be?"
"If you allow us to take all the meat, Gringotts will take 30 percent of the profit," Gripclaw said.
"20 percent," Harry knew enough about goblins to know this was a negotiation.
"25." Gripclaw countered to which Harry smiled and agreed.
"When would you want to complete this?"
"We could do this after your return from France which, speaking of," Gripclaw withdrew a folder. "Your travel and accommodations have been bumped up as a thank you for agreeing to return the sword."
"You already knew about the sword," Harry said. It wasn't a question.
"We heard a rumor from your Professor Flitwick that you used a gold sword with red rubies to slay the snake and there is only one sword that matches that description. Filius also told us you were a man of honor and would act and negotiate with honor. That's why our take is down to 25 percent when usually it is 40."
"Master Gripclaw," Helen spoke up. "We recently were made aware of a threat upon Harry's life. Would it be possible to add another person, Nymphadora Tonks to the itinerary?"
Gripclaw pressed his forefinger to a spot on the desk and another goblin entered the office.
"Daggermouth," Gripclaw addressed the goblin. "Would you please add Nymphadora Tonks to the travel itinerary we just bumped up?"
The goblin nodded and slipped from the office.
"Thank you, master goblin," Helen bowed.
"No need to be so formal. Gripclaw will do just fine," Gripclaw gave her a slight inclination of his head before turning back to Harry.
"With your permission, I would also ask if I could share this memory orb with the Nation. We goblins still have our warrior roots and we love to see battles like this one take place. I would like for the Nation to be able to view it."
"Sure," Harry's lips curved into a shrewd smile. "For a sickle per individual to view it."
"Of course," Gripclaw loved wizards who knew when to negotiate. "That is our standard fee to view something like this. You'll get 40 percent of the profits."
"30," Harry shocked Gripclaw. "I am doing nothing while you are doing everything. You deserve 10 percent for yourself."
"Oh, I like you," Gripclaw leaned forward, giving Harry a contract to sign. "Sign here to agree to have the Nation render the Basilisk and that you agree to the stipulations we have discussed."
Harry took the quill on the desk and signed before inhaling in pain. He looked on the back of his hand to see his name appear there lightly.
"That's a blood quill," Gripclaw says. "We only use it for contracts like this one. To use one for anything else is highly illegal. Put this cloth over your hand. It is covered in murtlap to help you heal."
"Thank you, Gripclaw," Harry rose with the Grangers and bowed. "I hope the gold of your earnings dries up the blood of your enemies."
"Until next time, Mr. Potter," Gripclaw stood and bowed to the family.
"You don't do normal, do you kid?" Richard asked.
"Not since a certain bushy-haired witch walked up to me and became my friend, at least," Harry nudged Hermione as he spoke. "I'm sure normal would just bore me."
As the Grangers exited the bank, Tonks fell into step a comfortable distance behind. While the Grangers were heading home, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was on a boat, approaching his destination. He bundled his cloak around him and busied himself with the paper. He was still aghast that they had a werewolf attack and such a public one too. It had even made the front page of the paper, on the column next to the story of the Weasleys winning the lottery.
It was Fudge's regular check-in with Azkaban; the most hated day of the year for him. Today he had to have extended exposure to the Dementors, the gliding wraiths whose job was to haunt the prison Azkaban. He had to account for every prisoner and ensure they were all having their basic needs met.
The boat stopped abruptly as it arrived at the monolithic structure. Wizards either built Alcatraz or they based Azkaban off it. The walls were a vanilla yellow, and getting yellower with each year. Moss covered the grounds around the island. Fudge walked up toward the gates which swung open to meet him. Crossing through them, the coldness of the air became suffocating. Quickly, Fudge walked row upon row in the stacks, checking off every inmate. Once done in the stacks, Fudge walked into the spiral staircase that led to the maximum-security wing. Every single occupant here was a follower of the Dark Lord.
"Ah Minister," Bellatrix greeted him as he ascended to the level. She gave him a manic look and licked the bars of her cell. "Come to get me out? I've been a very, very good girl… or would you prefer I be a bad girl?"
"Get back, witch!" The Auror who was part of his guard snapped at her, making her turn her back to the bars and slide down to the floor, cackling all the way down.
"Too bad," she spoke to the opposite wall. "If you had let me go, I would have seen to it my master spared your pitiful life. Oh well, what can you do?"
Fudge rolled his eyes and walked through the ward. Aside from Bellatrix, none of the other inmates talked to him. They stared at the ceiling or rocked themselves on their cots. Until he got to the end.
"Good day, minister," Sirius Black looked out through the black curtains of hair that hung in front of his face. "How is the rest of the wizarding world today?"
"Why don't you see for yourself," Fudge threw the paper at him. "Look at all the joy that's in our world since your lord vanished and we locked you up."
Sirius was going to retort until he saw the picture on the front page. Waving to him from the paper was a family of seven redheads all waving excitedly with a pyramid in the background. Next to it was the article on the werewolf attacks.
"Do you mind if I keep this?" Sirius asked, trying to keep his voice even.
"I was done with it anyway. Just as I'm done with the lot of you for another year," Fudge fastened his cloak in front of him and walked out of the ward.
Sirius never registered him leaving. First, he read the article on the werewolf attacks:
Werewolves Attack Muggle Family
By Rita Skeeter
Tragedy has struck a muggle family as the remains of two individuals were found in Surrey yesterday morning. The muggles, who this reporter has learned were named Vernon and Petunia Dursley, were brutally murdered and dismembered inside their own home.
Citizens will remember werewolf attacks were common during the previous war but have ceased for some time, thanks to the actions of the Boy-Who-Lived. Officials of the DMLE would not comment on the story, only to say that it is an ongoing investigation.
Interestingly, the intrepid reporter discovered that Petunia and Vernon were to be tried in the upcoming Wizengamot session. Court records are sealed but one clerk, who asked to remain anonymous, has said it had to do with the abuse of a magical minor. Digging a little deeper, this reporter has discovered that the werewolves left a message that said "Touchable" and, according to DMLE officials, also indicated their next target is Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived himself.
Were the Dursleys targeted by the minor as a means of retribution? Did someone hire the werewolves to keep them quiet? What does Harry Potter have to do with this? This reporter is on the case and questions will be answered.
Petunia and Vernon leave behind a 12-year-old son named Dudley, records say. What will happen to the boy? Will he be the next to be attacked?
"Wasn't Petunia the name of Lily's sister?" Sirius whispered to himself. "What in the blazes would a werewolf be doing unless… oh no. Hagrid told me Dumbledore was taking Harry to his relatives. Oh, I've been so stupid; they probably did something to Harry. Lily always claimed Petunia was the worst person to raise a puppy, let alone a child."
"So Harry will be in danger from the werewolves but he should be safe in the castle." His eyes returned to the photograph that first caught his attention. There, sitting on the shoulder of the smallest boy was a fat rat, a fat rat he had not seen in over a decade. A rat missing a toe. "Except he's not. I should have known he didn't die, the bloody rat. He's at Hogwarts! He's at Hogwarts! He's at Hogwarts!"
His mind was clearer than it had been in years, Sirius transformed into his dog form, slipped between the bars, and sprinted from his cell that night when everyone was sleeping.
I'm coming, Harry was the only thing Sirius focused on as sprinted down the lawn and swam across the channel. I'm coming.
(A/N: So when I started this fiction, I thought it would be my only one, that I would stop there. However, I've since had two ideas pop into my head that I'm working through. I'll probably keep finishing what's on my plate before starting a new one but my next fiction is very much in development. Thank you everyone for your follows, favorites and comments. I didn't think I would write again but this has helped rekindle my love of it and a good bit of that is thanks to you so you all have my gratitude.)
