I'd like to thank all of you for continuing to read and comment on this story. I wish you all a happy Yule/Christmas/whatever you may or may not celebrate and hope that this long chapter will bring you some happiness.
Some review replies for anonymous reviewers:
Panda: Thank you very much for the elaborate review, it is good to know that my writing improved over time. I'll try to keep all of the characters as consistently as possible, even if it it hard sometimes because Harry is bloody dense. About the nature of Harry and Voldemort's relation int he end... well, this story is labelled as Harry/Voldemort pairing for a reason :P I do hope that was clear enough. As this story will span a couple of years however, I'm sure I will have enough time to flesh everything out without forcing anything.
The image of Voldemort eating one of Dumbledore's socks will now haunt me for a while X'D thank you. Happy holidays!
Anon: Magic doesn't fix all problems. Magic only fixes conditions that would be life- threatening or that could become life-threatening over time. Being a Squib would not fall into that category. Besides that, Squibs do not have any magic that could fix any of their physical or mental problems in the first place. Hope that clears up some of your questions!
Fivefatducks: Thank you for reviewing so regularly, I always appreciate it even if I don't always reply like this :) Harry and Voldemort really are very alike in many ways, I imagine they would have butted heads a lot if they'd been the same age haha. They do seem a bit like one of those vampire romance novels indeed now. Not intentional but a humorous thought nonetheless.
Enjoy!
Chapter 27 - Mad Dogs
Hair flew everywhere as his paws landed on the white fields that stretched most of Hogsmeade's surroundings, snow instantly catching on the fur and weighing him down. It was ridiculous weather for March, even here in Scotland. Sirius sneezed loudly and shivered - perhaps he shouldn't have come in his Animagus form after all, he longed to have a thick winter coat now. Still, people could not always be trusted. He trotted down to the village, loving the attention as friendly passers-by pet him. Others might write it off as an Animagus' instinct that made him so craving for others to stroke his pelt. Sirius knew different, reluctantly admitting to himself how starved he had been for any kind of companionship in Azkaban and the year that followed that he'd relish in any kind of human touch. It was one of those things he'd never admit to another soul.
Longingly, he looked up through the storm to behold the silhouette of Hogwarts. Once, he'd considered it his only home, before moving in with the Potters. Now, he wasn't too certain how he'd feel, entering those walls again. Last year he'd been a trespasser, then he'd fled with the help of his godson and Harry's friends. To return now felt odd, even if it meant escaping the cursed house of his parents again. It felt like a prison to him, Dumbledore's arguments being the only reason why he'd given in. It was indeed the safest place he could be now, and if the Order of the Phoenix was to be revived at any point, there would be no better headquarters. While Sirius had not forgotten Harry's angry words about Dumbledore, he also did not see why he should instantly make Dumbledore an enemy without any proof.
He shivered again and ran for shelter from the snow, not entirely prepared yet to go. People hurried past, most not glancing twice at the large dog that hid under the overhang of a shed and watched them with intelligent eyes. People... even now, Sirius had to restrain himself to not panic every time he thought he saw someone who might recognise him. He longed to be a part of that world again, something that had almost been within his grasp. He still could not believe how it could all have gone so wrong. Pettigrew had been caught, he'd confessed to the Aurors, freedom had been so close before being ripped away again... A pained whine escaped him, being lost in the fluffy whiteness that kept swirling down on him. At least Harry knew, he thought, clinging onto that thought. And not only him: Remus believed him as well, and he was slowly being accepted by the Weasleys and a few other people, even if the prejudices that clung to him were hard to overcome for many.
If only the Aurors had been more careful, if only Sirius had taken care of Wormtail himself, if only the rat had not escaped on that fateful night... He still found it absolutely idiotic that the memory of Peter's confession didn't count since it had not been during a trial. Yes, of course memories could be manipulated, but of so many people? And so fast? And why had Wormtail not had a Mark?
Despite his best efforts, Sirius had still not come up with a proper explanation as to what had happened to the rat. None of it made any sense, from the Dark Mark disappearing - which Sirius was sure he'd seen on Peter's arm last year - to his former friend looking like he'd gotten the Kiss without any Dementors being there. The only two theories he currently had were that either one of the Aurors was a traitor who worked for Voldemort, or the Dark Mark held some kind of magic on its own that could do this to the bearer. He hadn't found support for either theory, not even after carefully trying to share them with Dumbledore.
He broke out into a sprint, energised enough now to face the biting, cold wind, running down the road he'd taken so often when he'd still been a student here during their trips to Hogsmeade. James had always been so cheerful during those, talking about all the items they could buy for their next big stunt, or, in later years, fretting over what gifts to get Lily. Back then, Sirius had always teased Prongs about the latter, only now could he understand how his friend must have felt. It was a good thing that it was harder for his eyes to tear up in his dog-form, for the road was suddenly filled with images of the past, Peter trying to pelt Remus with snowballs, who easily flicked them away with his wand, trying to redirect them to either hit one of the other Marauders or passing Slytherins. And there, wasn't that Lily, passing them and throwing a disdainful look as James tried to ruffle up his hair again as she entirely ignored him? Or there! Little Snivellus, hunched over the books he carried, hateful eyes hidden behind his curtain of hair, cautious for the next prank that would befall him...
Snow whirled and the visions fell apart, leaving Sirius confused and alone for a good few minutes until he recalled where he was. When he was. He continued down the road, mad at himself, growling and biting every branch in reach to have something to do, to feel the pain in his jaws and claws so he wouldn't fall back into the past, so the hallucinations that had kept him company in Azkaban so often would cease. As helpful as they had been then, they could no longer appear now, not if he wished to retain a semblance of his pride and self-sufficiency. Dumbledore may have forced him back into his ancestral home, Sirius would never allow another to take 'care' of him there or confine him to the house as the Headmaster had wanted.
He shuddered as his paws took him further down the road, any traces of the passing of time covered by a blanket. As crazy as it was, Sirius actually had come to like this kind of weather. At first, he'd feared that the iciness would remind him too much of his four prison walls and the Dementor's presence, yet that wasn't the case at all. That cold had reached deep within his chest and left him hollow. This cold was different, prickling on his skin, filling his mouth and nostrils, reminding him of deep winter nights spent at Hogwarts or with the Potters, of only going inside when his skin was completely red from the cutting wind, to warm himself. He knew that it wasn't healthy to let these thoughts in, to live with one foot in the past and another in the present, all the while trying to erase the time he'd spent in that dreadful place that had left him numb. There was no foot left for the future.
Finally, the iron gates of Hogwarts were visible, rising far above despite his size. Could he still fit in between the bars as he had last year? Kreacher avoided cooking anything edible without direct commands and Sirius wasn't good at it either, not to mention that after twelve years of only receiving scraps and weak soup, his stomach couldn't handle an awful lot of food anymore. Nonetheless, Molly Weasley had started to somewhat accept him, if only to give him food at every opportunity she could think of. After overcoming her initial suspicion of him, they'd developed a somewhat tentative bond since it was one of the few houses Sirius could safely go to that wasn't Grimmauld place, and the fact that the woman regarded Harry as family made for many a conversation over cups of tea. Not that Sirius entirely agreed with her views of his godson, she seemed to be under the impression that Harry was a polite young man needing shelter and protection. While Sirius could definitely see that Harry hadn't had the most perfect childhood and needed much love and understanding, he judged the teen to be a bit more capable than Molly seemed to. He was the son of James Potter after all, had faced Voldemort -or a version of him- three times already according to Dumbledore, and it now looked like he was dabbling in the more dangerous aspects of their world...
That last point was exactly why Sirius was here right now, in fact. Sure, he could have sent letters, but that didn't sit well with him. After Harry's open distrust of Dumbledore, Sirius didn't wish to give Harry the impression that their contact could in any way have been intercepted, even if personally he thought that his godson was a bit misguided when it came to the Headmaster. It wasn't as if he had full faith in Dumbledore, not anymore, not after the first war, the death of his friends and his own imprisonment. No, the old man had flaws like any other human, and motives that he wasn't prone to sharing very openly. And yet... and yet he could not be blamed for all that had gone wrong. Could Dumbledore have saved him Azkaban as Harry said? Perhaps. Should he have?
Personally, knowing what he did about warfare, Sirius didn't think so. He'd agreed to be part of something bigger when joining the Order, something he'd been willing to give his life for. Also, while Dumbledore may or may not have known that Sirius had not betrayed the Potters, even Sirius himself had fully thought that he'd at least killed Peter, making a life sentence in Azkaban deserved by law. That he was not guilty of betrayal nor of the death of those thirteen Muggles would not have diminished that sentence without proving that Wormtail had been a Death Eater. Why then, would Dumbledore stick out his neck and risk the position of himself and all Order members for Sirius, right after the fall of Voldemort, only to clear his name in two aspects? Even now, while Sirius had been hoping for freedom, that hope might actually not have come. Yes, he hadn't committed the crimes he had been accused of... but he'd still attempted murder. How that trial would have gone would've been questionable, his only hope being that Peter was a proven Death Eater and thus, by old laws, a free target by the Ministry.
It had taken a while to come to all of these conclusions of course, the first reaction after Harry's words having been a feel of betrayal by the head of the Order. And if James - no, Harry - was as stubborn as he'd always been -as his father had always been -, it would take an awful lot more time to convince his friend - godson! - of that Dumbledore's actions were understandable in this case. Not to mention all the other cases. Sirius wished that he could sigh as dramatically in his dog form as he usually could. Perhaps for the better, there was no-one around to admire it in the first place. He finally managed to worm his way in through a set of bars that were apart slightly further than the others - thank Merlin that this castle had been build ages ago and everyone in the Wizarding world liked that sense of uniqueness and authenticity that left room for non-standard fences- and soon after he was running across the grounds. His thoughts were still on Harry and Dumbledore. Sirius wondered if he should take up the role of trying to diminish Harry's animosity towards the man or let Dumbledore deal with it himself. It couldn't be a good thing for Harry to push the one man away who had taken a stance against Voldemort the first time around, even if Dumbledore certainly had done questionable things too.
More than a bit worried, he snuck over the bridge into a courtyard and went from there, finally transforming back to be able to open doors. Perhaps he should have been a bit more careful in choosing his attire before coming here. It was only now that he noticed that he'd grabbed a rather old, ragged robe that had lain around his parents' home, one of the few non-cursed items he'd found. Molly and Arthur had offered to help him clean up the house, which he'd refused. He'd been able to remove the most annoying objects from the rooms that he occupied and left the rest. Why would he care what man-eating vile things were lying in a back closet of his parents' bathroom? In fact, he'd only set foot in two of the four stories, mainly moving between living room, bathroom downstairs, kitchen and the largest bedroom, which he shared with Buckbeak, now named Witherwings. There was little use for him to go anywhere else, although he'd at least picked out a few interesting books from the small library that neighboured the drawing room with its hated tapestry of Black purity. Now that he was the heir to the Black family -funny, since he'd been burned off the tapestry he hadn't expected that to still work-, he did not need to heed childhood warnings about the library anymore, able to access any book he wished without consequence.
A few of those he carried with him now. It may be a stupid move, but if Harry was going to claim that the magic he knew from who-knew-where came from Sirius, he'd better have proof to back that up. Did he fault his godson for that lie? Perhaps a bit. Who knew how desperate the kid had been and what explanation he had for his actions. Sirius surely had gotten into enough trouble himself and had had to make up flimsy excuses on the spot to avoid being caught doing too illegal stuff. He may have hated all dark magic that came from his parents, that didn't mean that he and James hadn't used it to get back on people, nor had it stopped him from liking flashy, violent solutions. They'd been right bullies and he somehow still couldn't find it within himself to fully regret that when thinking of how fun it had been. They'd hid behind the idea of 'bullying bullies back', a motto that James had introduced to appeal some of their more questionable ideas to Remus and Peter. In short, it had come down to bullying Slytherins, but that hadn't stopped them from fully believing it themselves most of the time. And some of those gits had downright deserved it, Snivellus in particular, for being such a slimy two-faced bastard.
Upon finally entering the seventh floor, Sirius transformed back into his Animagus form, having learnt his lesson from last time he'd tried to force his way through the portrait. It was around seven in the evening now and students would soon be returning from dinner. If he waited here, Harry would definitely recognise him. He paced up and down the corridor, trying to find a shadowy spot where not everyone would instantly see he was there, glad for his midnight fur. He finally settled half-hidden behind an unlit stone torch and waited. Before any of the children came into view however, he heard a 'Stupefy' from behind him, which he only narrowly dodged. Hair on edge, he faced his attacker, growling.
Something had been in the air all day long that had made him nervous. Now, while he was nervous more often than not, it felt different and Barty sure wasn't stupid enough to ignore the feeling. It was true that 'constant vigilance' was a motto typical for Mad-eye Moody, but it might as well have come out of his own mouth. Ironically, Moody might have been created as the ideal role for him to play, so alike their characters were: rough, paranoid, prone to mood swings and fiercely loyal to their beliefs. If only they hadn't been on opposite sides in the last war, Barty thought he might have gotten along splendidly with the Ex-Auror. To be in Moody's skin was sometimes easier than being in his own.
It was thus hard to concentrate on teaching at the moment, and even harder to not try to check every three seconds on the child he'd sworn to protect. Finally giving in, he looked at Evan with both eyes, noticing that he wasn't the only one distracted. The kid looked positively exhausted, which worried him more than he'd ever show. Perhaps he should anonymously send some chocolate again from Honeydukes so Evan would at least get some sugar in his body. Not that there hadn't been plenty of opportunity to get a sugar rush. The boy had come to his office about a week after the second task, finally able to escape from all the social interactions. Apparently the other Champions had seen fit to throw a party each to celebrate, completely filling all evenings with either preparation or the parties themselves. Evan had divulged thatthe only good thing about all the gatherings was that his evenings were so occupied that week that Dumbledore had not sent an invitation for a second 'talk' just yet. Barty was actually getting rather worried about the Headmaster too after hearing what he'd had to say to Evan... especially now. It was nearing the end of the second week since the last Task and there still hadn't been word from Dumbledore. In fact, the man had been absent since last Saturday, it appeared, for he didn't show up at either breakfast or dinner anymore, his chair always glaringly empty. Barty had tried to ask the other members of staff, which he'd given up on after Minerva had huffed and told him this was 'one of those things that Albus just does'. Whatever the old fool was doing, Barty sure hoped that it didn't involve his Lord in any way.
Tapping his wand against his wooden leg, making a pleasant clonking sound that calmed him somewhat, Barty hurriedly instructed the students to practise on each other, leaving them to find pairs themselves for once. Normally he preferred to challenge them by making duel-matches between people who were on equal level. Today he wasn't in the mood for that, not able to keep his concentration to the required level to seriously assess each of them in detail. He returned to his desk, taking another sip from his flask -curse those double periods- and carefully withdrew a letter from the second drawer. It was a dangerous thing to do, keeping letters from the Dark Lord in his teaching desk... but now and then he needed to see the man's handwriting to ground him in the here and now.
It was a miracle that this correspondence went through, credited partially to his Lord's crafty spellwork and partially to Dumbledore's faith in his own people despite already having had traitors in Hogwarts multiple times. One would think that someone got more careful after finding one of the teachers with the allegedly slain Dark Lord on the back of their head... Barty wasn't one to speak about carefulness however. Only a few months ago, he'd been caught by Snape as he'd rummaged through the potion supplies when he was running low on Boomslang skin. He'd managed to nick some, but wasn't entirely sure if Snape had believed his story of sudden inspections. Then again, Snape wasn't acting very unsuspicious either, not even by his own doing, but because Karkaroff wouldn't stop leaving him alone. Changing the man's memories of his encounter with Harry hadn't diminished the paranoia, it seemed. Karkaroff being a known Death Eater, him hanging around Snape definitely raised enough distrust even among the rest of the staff that all had sided with Barty on the necessity of such inspections. The only negative consequence was that Severus now jumped at every opportunity to blame something on him, which was not the amount of attention that he could use right now. Snape's scrutiny made it much harder to invite Evan over as well.
He sometimes didn't really know what to do with the kid. Some days he felt a fiercely protective instinct, the next he wanted to bash Evan's head in for doing something incredibly stupid. No change from the very first day they'd met, all in all. To think that the boy shared the soul of the most amazing person on this world made Barty feel both envious, pitying and worried. Somehow, he didn't think that the kid could really live up to the duties it brought. Well, at least he'd managed to get through the Tournament 'till now. Granted, he'd had help from many people, Barty and even the Dark Lord included, yet he'd come up with some ideas on his own that others might have been stuck at. It was also wonderful to see how Evan had manipulated the Malfoy heir into giving aid, even if Barty still thought it questionable to say the least that Evan had gone around telling people of his true intentions. The methods used in the tasks themselves were another thing where Barty was baffled at times. To save a second hostage was not something that he would ever even have considered doing, yet it had entirely saved Evan's image after so blatantly using dark magic in front of everyone. If he hadn't checked on the other girl and decided that she needed help, Evan might be in an entirely different position now.
Class ended and Barty resisted the urge to call Evan back to invite him for later. As relaxing as their talks always were for the both of them, being able to completely drop their masks and talk openly, the boy definitely needed to get some rest. As such, Barty used the fifteen minutes until his next class -he had the sixth year students next and some of them needed to come all the way from the northern tower,- to unfold one of his Lord's letters. It was a slightly older one, a reply to his report on Evan's first task. He smiled down at the words. They were very typical, a short message that was entirely apathetic and consisted mainly of instructions on what to do next. Barty couldn't quite put in words why he kept all of these. He certainly wasn't infatuated with the man, no matter what some other Death Eaters had said during the first war. No, he'd leave that to more suicidal and masochistic people.
Like Evan, he added in thought, frowning as he folded up the letter again. Ever since he'd walked in on his Lord with glistening fingers and Evan's blushing face, Barty knew that something more had to be going on there. What was bewildering however, was that Evan acted completely clueless at any hints he gave to knowing about it. At first, Barty had thought the boy was lying, but over time he'd become convinced of that that wasn't it: The boy was just that dense. It had also made him evaluate the Dark Lord's stance. While it was incredibly clear that Evan became a blubbering mess whenever the Dark Lord came too close, the man hadn't actually reacted all that much apart from with amusement. Good. Regulus had already been a tad young at barely seventeen despite being technically an adult, Evan was definitely still a child and despite Barty's fierce loyalty to the Dark Lord, he would certainly be torn about supporting something like that. For his own sake, he hoped that his Lord, if at all interested, would leave such things for much later, else Barty would be stuck in an uncomfortable position.
The next class came and went, two hours filled with trying to cram mostly theory into the heads of his students. He always had mixed feelings about teaching the sixth years. On one hand, all of them had passed their OWL's with an E or higher, meaning that he had no students who weren't good or interested in the subject. On the other hand, the curriculum was controlled much stricter by the Ministry since he really needed to prepare them for the NEWT's, and most of their previous teachers had been shit. Even Quirrel had been despite being possessed by the Dark Lord himself, since he'd been trying to keep a low profile and been a mediocre teacher at best. As such, these students seriously lacked in theoretical knowledge about even the very basic concept of Dark magic and only knew the most famous dark witches and wizards from rare chocolate frog cards...
It was a good thing that he at the very least got the freedom to teach them in the way he wanted, using visuals and memories to show the class the work and inventions of previous dark mages. The infuriating thing was that he couldn't entirely clear up the misconceptions of dark magic, since he was still acting as a highly light wizard who supposedly hated anything dark and thus couldn't put any of it in good light. It was only a comfort that the real Mad-eye Moody would have been much harsher on it than he was...
He dismissed class a bit early when noticing that none of them were paying much attention during the last five minutes anymore, using it to clean up the classroom a bit. For once, Barty was happy at being listed for Patrols that evening, not having much else to do in his spare time at the moment. He couldn't well floo to Riddle manor directly from Hogwarts, Evan needed rest and the third Task hadn't been announced yet, giving him nothing much to do. Naturally, he was one of the few who already knew what was going to happen exactly, having overheard Bagman and Weasley Nr. 5 talking over details. Since the two Ministry employees were the hosts of the event, they remained on the castle grounds during all times, usually, with only Weasley Nr. 5 being such a stuck-up workaholic that he occasionally went back to the Ministry to work. What could one expect from a person who'd apparently worshipped the corrupt bag of slime that had been Barty's father? It was hilarious to see how the Weasley ran around telling people of the search party that he'd organised personally for Mr. Crouch. Barty sure wondered how long it would take for people to notice that their search was futile, just like it had been for Bertha Jorkins. There had also been talk of a third person missing, the reporter Skeeter. Not a large loss if she would also turn out to be dead, Barty mused. Would his Lord know more about that as well?
Having finished putting his classroom in order, he went to his office, still having to sit through a detention session with two students. Both were Ravenclaws who'd messed up in Potions Class and would have served it with Snape, had Barty not made it his mission to make sure to take over every detention from the bat that he could. First of all, it filled his own time and secondly, it was much better for the students to do something useful during their detention than being verbally bullied while they scrubbed cauldrons or cleaned up gross potion ingredients. Let Snape clean his own things rather than using the excuse of 'badly behaving students' who got detentions for small things like speaking without raising a hand or messing up their own potions when Severus failed to give proper instructions. If there was one thing that Barty hated as much as cowards, liars and traitors, it was teachers who didn't do their jobs. Snape happened to fall in all four categories of people Barty hated, thus it was his mission to make the man's life as much hell as possible. That included trying to more sneakily steal multiple ingredients out of the potion storage that he didn't even need, at times that no-one else could be around. Having Polyjuice potion to parade around as Moody did not mean that he ALWAYS needed to play Moody. He had quite a few stores of different hair from students by now that enabled him to enter places where even a teacher couldn't go, such as the Slytherin common room or Potions class.
Barty sighed deeply as he finally sank down on his office chair and could put up his leg, the one thing that he absolutely hated about playing Moody. If the man had been able to get his eye replaced by something useful, why walk around with a common, wooden leg? Sure, it looked bloody wicked with the claw at the end, but it wasn't practical. It wasn't even self-walking, needing to be dragged.
The Ravenclaw students came in soon, and after prying a bit, he found out what they'd actually done to warrant their detention. Both were partners in potions and one had gotten nervous when Snape had suddenly appeared behind them and dropped a wrong ingredient in the cauldron out of fright, while the other then had overlooked completely what a bloody bastard Snape could be and gotten angry over the detention the other had received, earning them another.
''Look Inglebee, I know that sticking up for friends is a sensible reaction to them being treated unfairly if you had been going up to a rational person. Everyone knows that Severus Snape doesn't react well to students acting in any way that displeases him though, and practically everything displeases him.'' The boy pulled a face while the other, Grant Page, just looked down at his hands.
''But it's unfair! Snape has always been this way, I know that, but that doesn't mean that we'll just have to take it, do we? It's entirely unfair to give Grant a detention just 'cause his hand slipped. 't was Snape's fault in the first place for startling him like that!''
''And what will going against him like this accomplish?'' Barty said, perhaps slightly louder than necessary, slamming his hand on the table. ''He's a teacher at Hogwarts, the only one who saw what happened. There aren't many potion masters out there and Snape happens to be pretty irreplaceable. You think that getting angry will impress him or make him change his ways? Or that you can go to Dumbledore or another staff member and he'll be forced to play nice? Of course not!''
''So what, this is a 'the world is unfair, deal with it' speech?'' Inglebee challenged.
Barty growled. ''No, the world is unfair and you have to think of different ways to change it than hurling yourself straight at the problem. Look, I will still have to punish you two no matter what, so I prepared some reading material on the potion you had been working on. Meanwhile, think of at least one method to improve Snape's classes without directly confronting him. Tell me after the next Defence lesson. If all people who get detention from him work together on this problem, we may well be able to do something useful.''
He smiled at the two looks of admiration he got. Sometimes he could clearly see why his Lord liked to gather people. The detention didn't take long and, having time to kill after, he decided to already start patrols, not having anything better to do. Stalking through the corridors, Barty took his time. Other than most teachers, he didn't need to lie in wait anywhere to see if he could catch any students doing illicit things. His magical eye could see into every classroom and broom closet without having to open any doors. Thus, he could leisurely pace through only the main parts of the floors assigned to him for the day, now and then looking left and right, sometimes up if he saw odd movements through the ceiling.
It had been peaceful until now... still, the jittering feeling he'd had all day only became stronger. Something would happen tonight, he was certain of it. Frowning in concern, he looked out of the window to the castle grounds. Had something moved there? No, it couldn't be, the image he'd seen had only been a figment of his imagination. It being March, the sun had already set hours before dinnertime, the grounds a mass of twisting shadows by now. Peering into the dark for too long would bring back views of a time long gone, of fluttering, robe-like folds of skin and rattling breaths. the Death Eater closed his eyes and steeled himself. That was over now, had been for more than a decade. There was nothing to fear anymore about Dementors, quite the opposite. They were - or would be again- some of the closest allies of his Lord.
Movement caught his eye that shouldn't be there. The students should all still be at the dinner he'd decided to forego in favour of searching the castle for threats. Of course, he couldn't be certain that there weren't one or two skipping meals, and yet, Barty tried to make out what he'd seen before as he went up a flight of stairs, eyes directed towards the ceiling. Had it been one floor up? Two? It was hard to tell in this darkness. There it was again, something large moving in the corridor that led to Gryffindor tower, something much larger than the average student lurking behind a pillar of sorts.
The man picked up his pace, enchanting the wooden leg so the sounds it made were muffled. Navigating through a secret tunnel that led from the sixth to the seventh floor, he managed to get to the seemingly dead end of Gryffindor corridor, behind the intruder, whom he now saw had taken a surprisingly familiar form of a gigantic, black dog. It was now and then impatiently looking past the pillar to the other, open end of the corridor from which the students would arrive later, not noticing Barty at all, who used the opportunity to draw his wand and shoot a quick stupefy. He cursed when it missed, the dog jumping out of the way. He had to deal with Black quickly, before people would return from their meal and intervene.
It was obvious why the man had snuck in, yet talking to Evan here could be dangerous, especially since the boy had pinned the dark magic he'd used during the Tasks on his godfather when Dumbledore had tried to find out. Besides, while the well-trusting teen may believe in Black's aid, Barty wasn't so sure. Sirius Orion Black had worked for both the Ministry and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. His best friend had died at the hand of the Dark Lord, and Black had fucking broken out of Azkaban, a feat never seen before, to off the one who had betrayed said friend. It wasn't bloody likely that someone like that would easily listen to the other side, especially since he'd rejected all that was dark before, when he'd grown up, fleeing to a light family. Evan was possibly a tad optimistic about fully having Black on his side. Well, Barty would definitely find out whether or not the other was a threat.
He dodged claws and fangs easily, having the major advantage in this fight, as the other would only be able to use magic again upon transforming back, which would take precious seconds in which Barty would most certainly stun the beast. Finally, one of his spells hit, the dog crumpling on the stone floor, just as a buzz of voices reached them. Wanting to stay out of sight, the Death Eater dragged Black with him to the false wall at the 'dead end' and disappeared with him.
A large, shimmering object drifted into sight as Sirius blinked slowly. He couldn't quite place it, staring at the vague shadows inside the depths. Looking around, many more items came into view that he recognised as having seen once, a long time ago. Yes, Auror Training! Sirius finally thought. They had been shown all kinds of magical objects to detect evil intent or dark magic...
A wooden leg landed in his view. With a painful neck, Sirius looked up from the floor, struggling against the ropes that bound him. He tried to sit up, all the while glaring at his capturer. Wasn't Moody an Order member anymore, or had Dumbledore not informed the entire group yet? ''Hold on Alastor,'' he groaned. ''We're still on the same side as last time. You're as paranoid as ever man, didn't you hear the news?''
The other replied with a short, hoarse laugh: ''Dumbledore did not inform me of anything regarding you, and how convenient that he isn't here right now.''
''I'm not only talking about Dumbledore, your whole bloody department knows that I didn't kill anyone. I just want to see my godson in private, Is that a crime?''
''You expect me to believe that an entirely innocent man happens to be the first one to ever break out of Azkaban after thirteen years of imprisonment, to be reunited with his adorable godson? I've heard several different versions of this tale yes, none of which paint you in good light. In each, you tried to commit the murder for which you were arrested in the first place. Not something one would do who wishes to live a new life with a clean slate, is it? What would Potter say if they put you back in Azkaban only because you couldn't resist getting revenge?''
Sirius blanched at the accusation. ''I thought Harry would want nothing to do with me then. It was him who convinced me to hand Peter over to the Dementors instead and look where it got us. The rat escaped not once, but twice after!''
''If you can call his state that,'' Moody commented. ''So, if it is true that Dumbledore is protecting you as you claim, why sneak into Hogwarts? Old habit?''
''None of your business.''
''I digress. Since the Headmaster is away, it puts me in a difficult position. Tell me your intentions or we'll go straight to the Ministry... which reminds me.'' Moody held something up and Sirius' stomach dropped. ''Neither the Ministry nor the Order would be entirely happy about you trying to sneak illegal books into Gryffindor tower. Who knows who could get a hold of them?'' the mockingly raised eyebrows made Sirius growl. ''Not to mention that I wasn't aware of a Sirius Black on the registration list for Animagi. So let's see... prison break, trespassing onto private property several times, unregistered Animagus, possession and smuggling of banned books and twice attempted murder. Pretty list you've got there, Black. Whatever could make me think that you may have ill intent? Surely even Dumbledore cannot let all of this slip through the cracks. I may owe that man, that doesn't mean that I have the same opinion where it comes to second chances.''
Sirius' throat had dried out as all his crimes were being listed. ''Please Alastor, I can explain...''
''Oh surely, I'd love to hear why you'd thought it a grand idea to visit the hero of the Wizarding world. Thought you'd be a good influence?''
''He's my godson!'' the man exclaimed, getting irritated. ''Now get rid of those ropes, I'm not going to fly at your throat.''
Moody ignored the last line, pacing up and down the office. ''Sure helped him loads, all that time you were imprisoned. I've picked up a thing or two about his home life. It would have helped him more if you'd broken out a bit sooner instead of only when you figured out that your murder attempt didn't succeed.'' Sirius bared his teeth and snarled, feeling pushed into a corner. He hadn't thought that Alastor Moody of all people would start berating him and taking a moral high ground. His guilt over leaving Harry with his Muggle family was already high enough without all of these details being pointed out. And it wasn't as if he'd known that Harry would be put with those Muggles instead of being taken in by a magical family. ''Now, I suppose it will be awkward when I will have to explain everything you've done to Dumbledore when we come back...'' something glittered in Moody's eyes. ''How about this, Black. You will stay here, unable to run, while I go and get Potter. I would feel muchsafer knowing that he is talking to a criminal in my office where I have a dozen instruments that would decapitate you if you would have any harmful thoughts towards him, and where I can overhear your conversation. If you truly are only here to talk to him, that should not be a problem. Naturally, I will confiscate these books.''
Sirius fidgeted, trying to look for a different way out, finding none. If it was either being thrown out of the castle after seeing Harry in a controlled environment, or not at all, it wasn't hard to pick. It completely negated his reason for coming personally however, since he'd been wanting to find out exactly Harry's thought behind his godson using dark magic and being angry at Dumbledore. None of these were topics that could very well be discussed in front of someone like Moody.
''Fine,'' he finally resigned, trying to come up with various different sets of plans to get back on Moody and also to ditch him during his talk with Harry. Fighting the crazed ex-Auror head-on wouldn't work. Tricking him however... well, he had plenty of time to set things up when Moody left and he could try some more extreme measures to get rid of these ropes. Without another word, Moody walked out of the office to get Harry. Sirius instantly set to work. Yes, it may be painful to break one's own thumb to get out of confinement, but nothing compared to roughhousing with a werewolf every month for a couple of years.
Harry collapsed in one of the chairs in the common room as soon as they got back from dinner, groaning at the pile of homework he still hadn't even started on. Bagman had announced at the very end of the second task that they wouldn't be getting any information on the third one for quite some time yet, leaving Harry with absolutely nothing to go on and, other than with the dragons, he'd heard from the other Champions that even the Heads of the schools were still not aware of what exactly it would be, Bagman and Percy organising something in secret. As such, while some of the teachers had been more lenient on him when he was stuck figuring out tasks, he had to do even much more to 'catch up' now that they knew that Harry wouldn't get a clue about it for a good while still. Combined with his self-studies on Runes, Arithmacy and whatever books Voldemort had sent him, he didn't have any free evenings anymore.
It was hard to believe it had only been two weeks since the second task. At least there had been the Champion parties, which had been both exhausting and fun, especially the one where Viktor had been allowed to invite a slew of people onto the Durmstrang ship that now lay empty on the lake. Not wanting to have any further awkwardness with girls, Harry haddragged Ron with all three times since Malfoy was too offended, something about his help not being needed anymore since he'd been replaced as a teacher. It was even funnier since Malfoy had no clue who he had been replaced with, he wasn't in on the fact that Moody was Barty. It looked like Voldemort hadn't seen it fit to reveal that to anyone.
Another bonus was that, since Ron had been part of the second task, Harry's best friend finally also got a chance to stand in the spotlight and took away much attention that otherwise would have befallen Harry, who preferred to get as little as possible. Instead, Harry could amuse himself with staying in the background, listening as Ron's tales got more and more extreme. Since he enjoyed it so much, Harry also pleaded with Hermione to not point out to other people that the only thing Ron had done had been sleeping. The girl had agreed reluctantly and only because she was getting so much support from Viktor, who felt horrible about the fact that Hermione was getting a lot of negative attention from classmates since she was what he had 'missed most'. At least Ron and Hermione were, despite Viktor, on amicable terms again now they'd shared the same experience in the second task. That saved Harry quite a few headaches he just knew he otherwise would have had.
In between partying and socialising, Harry tried concentrated on reading and learning, still determined to not slip into the habit of slacking off again. It was getting harder as time passed, he found. Even with the incentive of the third task on the horizon, he had always preferred more practical approaches to magic and his memories of summer were decidedly slipping away. Barty endeavoured to help where he could, but needed to be so careful that meetings were scarce, especially ones where they did more than talk and actually worked on magic.
After critically taking in the pile of work in front of him, Harry decided to get Hermione's help in organising it a bit. She was hesitant when he first asked, thinking he only wished to copy work from her, then relaxed when he made clear it was only her skill of planning and prioritising that he was desperate for. In no time at all, she'd created a list for him to work through, starting with a short essay on the care of flutterby bushes for Sprout, then his regular Divination homework where he made up what he pleased, and thirdly the tough task of filling out a potion identification sheet from Snape, where with only a few ingredients, they had to determine which potion was being brewed and complete the list and brewing instructions. It was, for once, an actual helpful piece of potion homework, although Hermione was quick to point out that several parts referred to potions that were most definitely above their year.
A ruckus at the entrance finally caused him to look up, surprised when seeing the intimidating figure of his Defence teacher stomping towards him. ''Potter. You're in deep trouble. Office, now.'' His first instinct was to think 'shit,' and look to his friends for help, then mentally slapping himself for not instantly realising that, again, Moody was only Barty in disguise and this was almost certainly merely a ploy to talk to him alone. Then again, Barty had never outright walked into the Gryffindor common room -since when did other teachers than one's Head of House have access to common rooms in the first place?- so there must really been something severe going on. He ignored Ron's whispered ''What'd you do mate?'' and hurried to pack his stuff together.
Shooting a look to the portraits left and right on the corridors outside, Harry decided not to ask anything until they'd arrived at Barty's office. The man seemed to have other plans though, for when they were on the fourth floor, Harry was suddenly pulled to the side into a storage room that was devoid of any possible listeners. ''Your godfather thought it was a great idea to break in here and talk to you in Gryffindor tower,'' Barty growled, his tone not a good sign.
''Sirius? Here? He didn't write me a thing.''
''It doesn't seem to go into his stubborn head that he cannot just walk about and that even his Animagus form would be suspicious. He smuggled a bunch of highly illegal books in too for you.'' Floored, Harry took in this information.
''But why-''
''No idea. He's out of trouble now, sitting tied-up in my office. Look kid, I know that he's important to you or something like that, but you should not forget that Black is not on our side, will never be on our side and is currently a criminal in more than one way, which I was sure to remind him of.'' The Death Eater grabbed Harry's shoulders and looked straight at him with both eyes.
''We'll see about that,'' Harry unwillingly spoke, not ready to give up on Sirius so quickly just because Barty told him to. ''That he's smuggling in books for me should tell you quite a bit. Do remember that I got away with doing Dark magic because I told Dumbledore I'd gotten it from Sirius. If he's going so far as to give me actual evidence on that, he can't be such a hopeless case, right?'' Barty let out a low snarl at that. ''Not sure if it was such a great idea to get him into your office either,'' Harry continued with uncertainty. ''True, it would have been very strange for a large dog to suddenly appear in Gryffindor tower, even more of a shock to all if he'd actually reveal himself, and yet, I would have been able to openly talk to him up at my room. Since you're impersonating Moody, one-hundred percent Dumbledore's man and Ex-Auror, he won't be so open about his intentions with you being there. Since he came alone without even a hint of it in letters and broke in here under cover of darkness, what he has to discuss has to be pretty secretive.''
''While that may be so, the alternative of it being discovered by anyone else that he did so would have been worse in the long run. He may have Dumbledore's hand above his head for now, he's still a criminal to the world. Also, if the old fool would find out that Sirius went behind his back to talk to you, you'll both be in a mess.''
''Which would only be a problem for Sirius, I don't see why you'd care about one of your enemies getting in trouble,'' Harry noted, then grinned. ''Are you jealous?''
''What?''
''You don't want me depending on Sirius, do you?'' Harry nearly laughed out loud at the look on Barty's face, who struggled to answer.
''Do not take this in any way as a confirmation of jealousy, but you are right in that I think it's very irresponsible to put your trust in Black. He's a convict, being hunted still by the Ministry since his innocence could not be proven. Other than that, he's notorious for ranging from 'general nuisance' to 'dangerous enemy' among Death Eaters. You never know what you get with Black, and the Dark Lord has a personal grudge against the man too.''
''He does?''
''Ask Him about it if you want, I'm not going into details there. The point is, Black is unreliable, even more so now that we've convinced you of our ideals, ones that he swore to destroy. He betrayed his family by running away, turned away from Dark magic and set out to fight against it. What do you think he is going to do when he finds out that you've done the opposite and turned away from the Light?''
''I'm sure he already did take up on some of the hints, he's not stupid.'' Harry protested. ''He is the only person who knows with absolute certainty that I didn't get those ideas from him and that my actual source needs to be bad enough for me to have to lie about it. And honestly, if even half of what Volde- our Lord, told me is true, then Sirius has every reason for joining us too. Dumbledore-''
''-managed to convince Black to return to the house that he hates just so that the Headmaster will have a place to resurrect his little rebellion group if he deems that necessary.'' Barty finished. ''If it hasn't already happened. Dumbledore isn't stupid either, and will have started taking precautions ever since the events after the World Cup. Black was influenced by Dumbledore before and will be again, you cannot convince me otherwise. I won't deny that Black seems to have a fondness of you, enough to try and cover your arse, but do not for one second believe that it means he will accept what you did. Most likely, Black will try to reason with you.''
''Sirius and reason?'' Harry laughed, thinking of how irresponsible his godfather's plan had been with Peter.
''Kid, you barely know the man. You've interacted with him, what, three times tops? Sure, he's your godfather and I know how tempting it is to find a parental figure who actually gives a shit about you, okay? I know. That doesn't mean that you can just drop your walls and happily tell him everything you've achieved until now.'' Harry looked away stubbornly, not wanting to believe that Sirius, the man who'd gone to the Goblins while he was on the run just to buy Harry a new broomstick, would do anything that would affect Harry negatively. So what if they hadn't actually talked all that much? Sirius cared about him enough to take stupid risks, only proven by the fact that he was at Hogwarts right now. Barty sighed. ''I'm clearly not getting through to you. Fine, you can talk to him, alone if you want to. Just promise me that you don't reveal what you actually did this summer, nor breathe a single word about our Lord's return.''
''I swear.''
An uneasy silence descended over them as they continued their way to Barty's office. Upon opening the door, they were met with a bright flash of light that blinded them both, and before Harry knew it, someone had grabbed his arm and started dragging him away. Mad laughter reached his ears and as much as he struggled, he couldn't get to his wand. In a fit of panic, Harry slammed a fist into whoever was holding him and was dropped to the floor.
''Ow, watch it! That was my face!'' he heard a very familiar voice whine.
''Sirius?'' he hesitantly asked.
''Hey kiddo, sorry for that spell, I meant to only hit Moody. Was a bit stronger than anticipated.'' As soon as the flecks in front of his face faded a bit, Harry narrowed his eyes to peer at Sirius' guilty expression. ''Are you okay?''
''Yeah... what are you doing here? Moody only told me that you broke into Hogwarts.'' The other scowled.
''Not here. Know any places we can talk in peace?''
''You created the Marauder's map, not me,'' Harry shrugged. ''You probably know this place a lot better than I managed till now. The only area I ever found that wasn't on the map was the Chamber of Secrets and I'd really rather never return there.'' He wasn't kidding about that either. Although he personally knew Voldemort now and had bonded a bit with Nagini, making him see everything Slytherin a bit more positive now, that didn't mean that he held any love for the cold, damp, deadly trap that Salazar Slytherin had created. The giant stone statue of the Founder and the lurking monster set out to eat those not 'pure' enough didn't make Harry very fond of Slytherin either.
''Okay then, let's see... definitely has to be a magically hidden room, Moody will soon catch up and should be able to see through all normal walls and most illusions. Ah, I know just the thing! Sorry to say, we'll have a bit of a climb ahead. Perfect place for... well, anything really.'' Curiosity piqued, Harry followed his godfather through sets of carefully hidden stairwells and narrow corridors between walls. As much as he loved the map, Harry had actually not had the time in the year he'd had it to explore its potential fully, mostly using it to see who was where. He mainly used a selection of routes to cut the time it took to go between classes or avoid certain areas where Snape often lurked. And of course, the passageways to Hogsmeade, which were no longer necessary since Sirius had signed his permission slip. Sirius finally stopped in front of a blank space of wall.
''Behold, the Miracle room,'' he proudly exclaimed, starting to pace back and forth until a door appeared. Walking in, Harry was awed to find himself inside of a gigantic room with a dome-like ceiling. A circular part of the floor was lowered, rows of dummies of sorts standing on one end. The walls were lined with bookshelves. ''Convenient place, it can turn into anything you wish for. Or rather, as James and I discovered after weeks of thorough investigation, it has a set of one hundred and thirty-six different rooms, changing into the one that most closely fits your description. My deepest regret is not finding it earlier, we barely had half a year left at Hogwarts when we found it. By the time that we figured out how it worked and wished to at least add the entrance of it to the map, our crafty invention had already been confiscated by Filch,'' he scowled, flopping down on a rather comfortable chair that hadn't been there before. ''All the rooms seem to be linked, you can wish for a particular item and as long as it is stored in one of its versions, it appears here too,'' he explained.
''That's... incredible. Does anyone else know of it?'
''Possible. I'm almost certain that the Hogwarts house-elves should know since they are bound to the castle, and I suppose Dumbledore is also aware as Headmaster of the school. As for others, since it appears when desperately wishing for something, I can imagine some would stumble in by accident but not know how to get back. We only found it since, even after the initial creation of the map, the marauders made it our lives' mission to map every part of the school. Our greatest failure was never finding the Chamber of Secrets, truth be told. I'm glad that Prongs' son was the one to get in,'' the man grinned. ''You never did tell me how you managed that, I'll be looking forward to that story. I only have a vague description of your adventures from Dumbledore.''
Harry nodded, a bit unsure. Him being a Parselmouth had been a Big Thing at Hogwarts, but did Sirius actually know of it? A couple of students might have told their parents, but so far it never leaked to the press. ''Sirius, not that I don't appreciate you being here...'' he started.
''Oh, right. You of course want to know why first... Honestly, you made me worry a lot more than I thought being capable of. When I told you not to put yourself in mortal peril, I really must wonder why I thought you'd listen.'' Sirius flashed a grin. ''Not that I would have passed up on the opportunity to sign up for this Tournament.''
''I didn't put my name in the cup,'' Harry sighed, tired of hearing it.
''Oh, really?'' the man frowned. ''That's surprising. Kind of a shame, that really kills a lot of jokes I had prepared about it.'' Harry smiled, not sure whether to be angry at the other for thinking he'd do such a thing or relieved for the fact that his godfather instantly believed his words, other than most. ''At least that does excuse some of your more radical ways to get through it I guess... which is really why I am here.'' His face grew more wrinkled than Harry had ever seen it. ''To help you, I need to know what is going on, Harry. A lot of weight was put on your shoulders that you shouldn't have to bear already. I really do wish to take some of that away, which I can only do if you tell me what you are thinking. We both know that I never told you a thing about obscure dark rituals, and your hostility towards Dumbledore didn't fall from the sky either. Who've you been really talking to?''
Barty's warning words sounded in Harry's mind again. ''I don't want to lie, not to you.'' Harry finally decided. ''So I cannot tell you anything.''
Sirius sighed deeply and leaned back in his seat. ''See, that puts me in a bit of a dilemma. I can't protect you if I don't know who has you under their influence.''
''I'm under no-one's influence,'' he protested. ''I finally got myself some answers and decided on my own what to do with those. Part of that was finding out that Dumbledore's been hiding a lot of important things and done a lot of wrong too.''
''If you try to appeal that idea to me again with the whole Azkaban-thing, I will tell you briefly how I see it. No matter my intentions, I committed crimes that I would have been convicted for no matter what. Whether or not I betrayed your parents was knowledge that would only save my pride, not relieve my sentence. I was arrested at the same day that Voldemort fell, it was a hectic time and people looked to Dumbledore for answers. There was no malicious intent on his behalf, it was him who saw to it that the Ministry did not fall into utter chaos and that you were taken care of.''
''But... he knew that Peter...''
''Yes, he cast the Fidelius on request of your parents and knew that Peter was the Secret Keeper. And? That Voldemort knew of the location of your parents could have been because of the information being tortured out of Peter. I only thought he was a traitor because I suspected an information leak for longer and turned out to be right. I also thought however, that I had killed the little bastard. What should Dumbledore have done for a murderer? Since I thought that the explosion really did blow him to pieces, there was no proof anymore of him being a Death Eater either.''
''Wait, you thought that you really did kill Peter? Didn't you see him cutting off his finger and transforming?''
''Not exactly. I was chasing him through the streets on a late October evening. There wasn't an awful lot to see. He ran into a dead alley and I thought I had him… he'd never been a good dueller. I completely ignored the Muggles around us, who were out trick-and-treating. Most likely, they thought we were dressed up as well, which is why they didn't move out of the way. Next thing I knew, the street was blown up. I honestly thought that Peter, in a last desperate attempt, tried to perform a spell above his level and destroyed himself in the process. As much as I later regretted the many other deaths and the fact that I would never be able to legally justify wanting to kill him since I couldn't prove that he bore a Mark, in the moment I was torn between delight about having gotten revenge and guilt over your parents' deaths. In short, the entire situation was a mess and I don't blame the leader of the Order of the Phoenix for prioritising the wellbeing of the entire country over a single member, especially when said member did a few questionable things in the rush of the moment.''
''It's not the only thing,'' Harry protested, foregoing his speech about Azkaban. ''Dumbledore has put me in dangerous situations before, even led me to them, all the while hiding the fact that I am supposedly literally destined to destroy Voldemort.''
''Whatever do you mean?''
''There... there is a prophecy about me destroying the Dark Lord,'' Harry said, unsure of how much he should tell, especially as this was one claim that he hadn't been able to verify by himself. ''I don't know about any specifics. Still, it was made when Dumbledore was present, the whole reason why he warned my parents to hide in the first place.''
''So that's why he went after James and Lily so fervently?'' Sirius muttered to himself.
''What?''
''Just a thought... For all of the horrors under Voldemort's twisted idea of ruling, he usually only disposed of his enemies in battle, as a sign of magical prowess and power. Only especially dangerous or influential individuals sometimes 'disappeared'. Hearing that he broke into their home definitely made me wonder for years why them, you know?''
Harry stored the information away in his brain on the list of 'Things Voldemort had spoken the truth about', a list that thankfully appeared to grow longer over time. ''So yes, Dumbledore knew of this whole thing and never once mentioned it, despite me asking him several times why I survived and why Voldemort is after me.''
''Harry, you're fourteen! What, you think Dumbledore would introduce you to the Wizarding World and instantly take you aside to tell you about how the gruesome fate of your parents' death was because the most evil wizard in history wants to see you dead? Worse, that he isn't through trying? That's what adults always try to do, protect the younger generation from whatever could hurt them.''
''He put me with the Dursleys!'' Harry exploded. ''He couldn't have done more to hurt me! And even though I asked to stay at Hogwarts over summer, he refused because of bloody wards that I'd never heard of before.''
Sirius got up and kneeled down in front of him, carefully ruffling his hair as Harry tried not to break down when thinking of the unfairness put upon him. Why couldn't Sirius understand? Why was he trying to defend the headmaster so much? ''They were your closest relatives. Dumbledore's single greatest flaw is that he puts faith in people to do the right thing. He honestly thought that they would care for you. I must disagree with his decision here, of course. It was well-known that Petunia hated Lily and anything to do with magic. It was just a disaster waiting to happen. Then again, he didn't leave you there completely unguarded. I met a few members of the Order, and one happens to be a Squib who lives a few streets down from the Dursleys and who has kept an eye out for you. Nothing too obvious, she didn't want to so noticeably like you that your family would keep you from visiting.''
''What? Who?''
''A Mrs. Figgs. Crazy lady, has a bunch of Kneazles and Kneazle-cat crossbreeds that spy everywhere for her. She ranted a bit to me about how awful the Dursleys are and how every time you were over to her place, she put strengthening and healing potions in your drinks and food so to ease your burden.'' Harry's head spun. Mrs. Figgs? The old lady in her home full of lace and the stench of cauliflower? That Mrs Figgs was a Squib?
''Why... why did she never tell me anything?'' he asked, completely thrown off. ''I lived my life there being unaware of who I was, thinking that I was an outcast who was better off not existing, so I wouldn't bother my family anymore. And right down the street was someone who could have shown me my world and just... didn't?'' he looked up into Sirius' pained eyes, looking for some sort of confirmation that his feelings were justified. ''Why?'' he whispered.
Arms enveloped him, and Harry clung onto his godfather. ''It wasn't the right decision, or fair,'' the man spoke. ''I'm really not trying to say that what happened in your childhood was good, Harry. I only want you to understand that no-one on our side, not Dumbledore, not Mrs. Figgs, acted the way they did to be evil or to cause you grief. The Headmaster thought it better for you to grow up around your relatives, who by all means should have cared for you, a helpless child. When I confronted him about it, he told me of that there are wards around that house than no other place will have, ones that protect you specifically from Voldemort, and will need renewal each time. And furthermore, he knew both James and Lily, and if you turned out to be in any way like your dad, giving you to a random Wizarding family would also not have been great. Imagine them treating you like those on the street: admiring you for something you cannot remember, something you didn't actively do. Being both feared and revered at the same time by the people who have to raise you...''
''Better than feared and loathed,'' Harry dispassionately answered.
''No-one could have foreseen that they would treat you as vile as they did. By the time that you went to school and Mrs. Figgs finally saw that what went on in that house wasn't normal, that the Dursleys spread rumours of you being insane and such... it was too late to place you elsewhere, not to mention those wards.'' Harry pressed his lips together, wondering how much Sirius actually knew if he could still stand here and partially defend Dumbledore's decision. Mrs. Figgs may have seen him weeding the garden or being chased by Dudley, he'd been treated much worse even when away from the prying eyes of neighbours.
Harry closed his eyes, feeling withdrawn and empty. So Barty had been right: Sirius would defend Dumbledore's actions no matter what then. Disappointment washed over him as he realised that the one person he'd thought would be just as angry at Dumbledore as he was, chose to ignore the grave mistakes of the Headmaster in this way. It took every ounce of self-control that he had to not scream at Sirius, shake his shoulders until he'd wake up and see Harry's points. Instead, he only said: ''Too bad about those wards then, I left Privet Drive only a few days after arriving there last July. From what I gathered, they would need a few weeks of me being there per year for them to be effective. They should be down by now.'' Which was true, but not for the reason Harry just stated. His shared blood with Voldemort and the depletion of Lily's sacrifice would have made any possible wards useless.
''That... Merlin, I didn't even think of that. You should tell Dumbledore!''
''No, I don't think I will. Last time I told him how I was being treated at the Dursley's, he thought I was exaggerating.''
''My offer still stands,'' Sirius spoke, taking one of Harry's hands. ''You can always come live with me, I'd love that.'' Harry gave him a shaky smile. It was still tempting, even now he was overcome with frustration over the man's trust in the Headmaster. It did, however, interfere with his actual summer plans. Then, an idea came to him. ''It'll be Easter holidays soon. Normally I always stay at Hogwarts but... could I come over then? I still have so many questions. About mum and dad, about your ideas and beliefs, about the previous war and more. I'd really love getting to know you a bit more. After that... we can see?''
Sirius' brilliant smile almost made up for all his previous words. ''Of course kiddo, you'll be more than welcome. I have to warn you that my house isn't the cosiest place though, and that my house-elf is a grumpy bastard who wishes death on my head and that of any and all of my guests.''
''I'll survive,'' Harry said, a twinge of hope in his heart.
''Maybe during Easter, you will tell me a bit more about why I had to become your scapegoat for your use of dark magic too?'' the man asked, raising an eyebrow, having Harry wincing.
''Sirius, I'm really sorry about that. I couldn't think of anything to tell Dumbledore at the moment, and then you showed up and I... I panicked.'' Sirius sighed and stood up. For a moment, Harry thought that he'd just messed up everything, until a pile of books was dropped into his lap, which he took with acted surprise, having been warned before by Barty. ''Circles of blood? Violet Night? How to use your local Muggle? Sirius, what is this?''
The man shrugged. ''You were right with your line of thought that I could have told you about all these things, I certainly have a large library of books on dark arts at my disposal. I figured that you might as well have some evidence to back that up. I will ask you to please not try anything of 'Your local Muggle', since I wouldn't be very happy with you if you suddenly decide that Muggles are merely potion ingredients.''
Harry scowled. ''Of course I would never! That I grew up with a couple of awful Muggles doesn't mean that I see them as a lesser species or whatever.''
''Good.''
''But why go along with my story?'' Harry asked hesitantly. ''If you are so hell-bent on trying to convince me that Dumbledore did everything for my good and the good of others... Besides, I thought you hated dark magic?''
''Those are some loaded questions...'' Sirius started.
''Please don't tell me I'm too young to know,'' Harry all but begged.
''No, I suppose you wouldn't be, having faced all that you have until now,'' the other sighed. ''It is clear that, wherever the hell you got it from, you have some knowledge of and opinions on dark magic already. As much as I myself dislike it, it's not up to me to decide what you wish to do with the powers you've been born with. Growing up in a dark household, I also know better than most of our society that it isn't all death and disaster. There are some pretty epic dark spells that don't do any harm. James and I actually experimented with some books that I nicked from my parents before I closed off that chapter of my life completely. What is most important to me, is that you don't harm yourself or other people. Beyond that, whether you get through life with light or dark spells, I couldn't care less about. Just... be careful. The reason so many dark wizards and witches went bad is because dark magic can take a toll on one's physique and mental health.''
''So you don't believe that all dark magicians are evil and all light ones good?''
Sirius barked out a short, sad laugh. ''Honestly kid, I would be the last person to say that. Remus is a werewolf, a notorious dark creature, and one of the kindest people I'll ever know, I'm sure of it. Your own grandmother was a dark witch -a Black, actually- and she was incredible, taking care of me like her own son. She never denounced my family's ideals and preferred type of magic. In contrast, Peter was a light wizard and turned out to be a piece of shit. And remember that I told you about Crouch, the one who put me in Azkaban without a trial? He was one of those people who were as light as they come in a bad way, going mad with the desire to hunt down dark wizards by any means necessary, giving his forces the right to torture and kill just as brutally as his enemies did. What makes up a person is their character and what they do with their power, not the type of power itself.''
Harry smiled at hearing a bastardised version of Voldemort's favourite line coming from Sirius' lips. ''Thank you. That is... relieving to know.''
''I'm not going to pry into your source more now, but I am curious about why you hang towards dark magic so much. You're not addicted, are you?''
Harry shook his head. ''No, I've got books on how to prevent addiction, no worries. I make sure to properly cleanse myself and everything. It's not so much the rush I get -although truthfully, that is nice too-, it's more... I can identify well with it. That maybe sounds ridiculous, they're just spells... Nevertheless, dark magic has always been pushed away in a corner, treated like some sort of dirty secret, you know? And yet so much good can come out of it. I found elaborate rituals and chants and such that are just so beautiful. I wish to... to share that with the world. Just like with Remus' condition, there's so much prejudice in the Wizarding world against things people don't understand.''
''Which dark spell do you like most?''
Harry honestly smiled at that, not having anything to hide there. ''The Patronus charm.'' Shock coloured Sirius' face.
''The... The Patronus?'' he spluttered. ''What do you mean? That's a light spell!''
''Not if you use it for its intended purpose, to ward off Dementors. The shield that is creates feeds off the happy emotions tied to the memories you use as soon as Dementors attack it. It's true that nothing will happen if you use it as a messenger, but with Dementors around, the emotions that you put into it are sacrificed.''
Sirius looked highly disturbed at that information. ''I honestly am getting more and more interested about your source. Merfolk rituals are one thing. This? On a whole other level.'' He then gave Harry a suspicious look. ''You chose the word 'sacrifice'...''
Harry shrugged. ''I know that's what dark magic really is. Any magic that uses sacrifices and requires more than mere energy and thought. It's one of the reasons why it was a lot easier for me to get over the whole stigma around it. My mother sacrificed herself to protect me. I'm literally alive because she used dark magic if you look at it like that.''
''That is certainly something to think about...'' the other admitted. ''Well then, I'm glad to hear that you know what you are doing. I only ask of you that you don't swallow anything they tell you without proof or another perspective. Your views on Dumbledore's ideas are too bitter and angry to have all come from you yourself. I am still putting my trust in that man, just so you know. He's the one who right now is trying his best to make up for letting Azkaban happen to me, and also who kept you - if relatively- safe over the years.'' Harry let out a disbelieving huff. ''I'm just saying, the first opinion is not always the right one. And while I was truthful in that I don't think everyone dark is evil, there is a disproportionate amount of nasty people on that side, not to mention the whole ideology of pure blood being very prevalent. Keep your guard up, always. Now, I really have to go. I'll pick you up in my Snuffles-form on King's cross on the first of April, okay?''
Harry nodded, then looked up in horror. ''Oh no...'' he spoke. ''The train goes on April's fools. Can I come a day later? Please?''
A wicked gin spread on Sirius' face. ''Absolutely not. I have years of missed April's fools' days to make up for.''
The teen just groaned miserably. What had he just signed up for?
So, a bit more insight into the minds of other characters. I hope it was a change that wasn't too odd i this story, considering I've only written from harry's perspective until now. If it's not your cup of tea, don't worry, it won't be a regular thing. Just wanted to write out both Sirius' and Barty's character a bit more. As my Bèta pointed out, they are rather alike in some ways, certainly now that they both try to protect Harry, and it's really difficult to write either of them sometimes.
On a side note, it might sound odd that it is continuously freezing and snowing in my chapters even as we are going into March and approaching April, but I delved into some preserved diaries of Scottish people in the 90's that were published online and the weather really was That Bad back then apparently.
Please Read and Review!
xx GeMerope