Chapter Two
Up in the sky, the moon and the setting sun battled for who would supply more light to the small meadow. Inevitably, the moon won as the sun sank behind the mountains in silent defeat. Crickets started chirping, their song no longer drowned by the birds, who were too tired from the day's activities to chirp their own songs.
Yet the song of the crickets was interrupted by a rushing sound in the night. With the sound came a flash of light into the meadow, and from that flash of light, two figures emerged. Briskly, they walked a well beaten path up the slope, towards the house on top of it.
"Wow," the younger one said, "the air smells great. I see why you like it here, Sirius."
"What makes you think I like it, Harry?" Sirius asked.
"You, settling down," Harry said. "It's either the place, the woman, or Azkaban."
"You're right," Sirius said. "It's the place."
"So, there's no woman?"
"Not that I haven't tried-"
"What happened to all that 'Sirius Black charm' of yours," Harry asked, having to struggle the habit of putting his tongue in his cheek.
"I couldn't lie to her," Sirius said, solemn and serious for once.
Harry didn't know what to say to that.
"Keely," Sirius called.
"Yes, master Sam," asked the elf that appeared immediately.
"Get me the pouch on the kitchen table, please," Sirius said.
As the elf disappeared, Harry grinned.
"Say, Sirius, have you ever fired a gun," he asked.
"You mean those muggle things? No. Why ask," Sirius asked, bewildered.
"Oh. It's just that your name is both Sirius and Sam now. It really is a shame that you hadn't."
"I don't follow," Sirius said, his brow furrowing.
"I'm sure you don't," Harry said, his grin widening.
Sirius shook his head, but didn't have the time to further question Harry, as Keely popped back, carrying a rather large brown pouch.
"What's in the bag," Harry asked as soon as the elf popped back to the house.
"What do you think genius? Money for your papers and your wand," Sirius said, stashing the bulging thing into an inner pocket of his robe. Grabbing Harry by the shoulder, he closed his eyes and disapparated.
They apparated between two red brick walls in a dark, narrow alley, wide enough for only one man per column to walk. Sirius started walking towards the darkness, the mud slapping under his boots. Harry followed in his wake, turning his head back then up every now and then to see if anyone was at the mouth of the alley or on the rooftops ahead. It was a perfect place for an ambush.
But no ambush came, from behind or above. They reached an old, metal door, rusty where the metallic paint had peeled off. Lifting his hand, Sirius started banging on it in a complicated rhythm, pausing between repeating. After he finished the third repetition, there was a click, and then another one and another one, before the door swung open to reveal an old man with short, snow white hair and the thickest pair of glasses Harry had ever seen.
"Ah,HerrDunham. So nice to see you again. And you must be the customer. Come in, come in," the old man said in a thick German accent.
"I see you've brushed up on your English, Reimer" Sirius said as he stepped inside. Harry stayed silent and followed him.
The room was definitely not what Harry had expected. The walls were covered with wallpaper that had faded with age, leaving only grease stains to decorate it. On the right side of the room, several shelves were stacked full with folders, each identical to the next; on the other, a large desk was propped against the wall, parchment, quills, empty inkwells, bits of wood, sawdust and sealed jars littering its top. Against the far wall was an old, large cupboard, the wood scratched and chipped in places, carton boxes instead of china peeking through the cracked glass. In the middle of the room stood a simple white round table, made of plastic, four white plastic chairs strewed around it.
"I was forced to," Reimer said. "You wouldn't believe the number of Britons fleeing their homeland, seeking a new life."
"Oh, trust me, I can," Sirius said, taking a seat in one of chairs. "Half the country's gone."
"Now, let's see what you look like. Stand under the light,bitte," the old man said, putting his hands on Harry's shoulder and positioning him under the light. Harry shot Sirius a look, and the latter grinned.
"Sehr gut, sehr gut.I have something that would suit you perfectly," Reimer said, moving towards the shelves. Harry turned around.
"Do not move,Junge," Reimer said as he heard Harry turning around.
He did as he was told and turned around, glaring at his godfather, who wore a shit-eating grin on his face.
"You know, I once metdie großeGrindelwald himself. Hmmm. I was in my first year inDrümschtrangwhen they expelled him for… erm…Unzucht. With the daughter of the Headmaster no less." Reiner laughed, a wheezing sound that only got on Harry's nerves. Sirius seemed to stop breathing in order to prevent himself from laughing out loud, if the reddening of his face was any indicator.
"That's… erm… that's good to hear," Harry said, casting a murderous gaze at Sirius.
"Well, here we are," Reiner said, before clearing his throat. "Harold Devereaux, born nineteen seventy eight, son of Sophia CharlestonundHenry Devereaux. They divorced soon after his birth, dumping him backundforth until he went to school. He graduated, with above average grades, from Beauxbatons, after which he travelled the world for a couple years, before disappearing mysteriously in two thousandundone. His last known place of residence was near Melbourne, Australia."
Reiner handed Harry the file.
"You have to bekiddingme," Harry murmured under his breath. Sirius jumped from his chair and got behind Harry to look at the photo in the file.
From the photo, stapled to a blank page in the file, seventeen year old Beauxbatons graduate Harold Devereaux smiled. Like Harry, his hair was black, his skin was pale and his eyes were green. Even his height was just a fraction of an inch above Harry's. The main, glaring difference though, was the weight.
"You look like the love child of Maxime and Hagrid," Sirius said, his barking laughter echoing in the small room. Harry growled and punched Sirius in the nether region. The latter curled up, his laughter dying in his throat.
"For the record, I look nothing like Maxime and Hagrid's love child," Harry said while Sirius crouched and hissed like an angered snake. "I know that because I've seen her."
"So," Reiner asked, observing the byplay between the two.
"We'll take it," Harry said.
"Wait what? How are you going to explain…" Sirius asked, waving his arms about, before pointing at Harry's stomach, "that?"
"Well mate," Harry said, adopting an Australian accent, "the weather's downright cruel in Australia this time of year. I swear, kilos just sweat right off you."
"Sehr gut," Reiner said. "Now for the photo."
He picked up a rather large and ancient looking camera, before pointing it at Harry. Thinking about his godfather's crushed genitalia, Harry smiled and waited for the camera to puff that all familiar purple smoke. Once it cleared, the camera coughed up a dozen small copies of his picture in one long string.
Taking a pair of scissors, Reiner cut one of the pictures off the string and used his wand to stick it to an identification card with all the right information, but without a photo.
"There."
"What? That's it," Harry asked.
"I don't think you fully understand the work involved into actually findingundobtaining the details involving your newest identity," Reiner said with a frown.
"Why don't you enlighten me," Harry said.
"That,Junge, would be giving out trade secrets," Reiner said. "But you are right. It's not over yet."
He opened one of the jars on the desk, and using a pair of pliers he submersed the identification card inside the clear liquid. Quickly, he pulled it out, setting it on the table, before scratching the surface of the card with the sharp tips of the pliers.
"It has to look worn, you see," he said, using the pliers to submerge the card in the jarful of liquid again. "People get suspicious when they see aganz neucard."
He pulled it out again and wiped it with a tissue, before handing it to Harry.
"Impressive," Harry said, observing the worn corners, the random scratches and small air bubbles under the plastic.
"You are too kind," Reimer said. "You wanted a wand as well?"
"Yes."
"Hmm," Reiner said, sizing Harry up. "Your last wand was, what, eleven inches?"
"Eleven and a half, to be exact," Harry said.
"I see." The old man moved to the cupboard, opened it and pulled out a large box, before setting it on the desk.
"What was the core of your wand," Reiner asked, digging through the box.
"Phoenix feather," Harry replied. Reiner's head shot up.
"Phoenix feather? Hmm, curious."
Harry prepared himself for a 'you're destined for great things' speech, but it never came. Instead, Reiner dug through the box and came up with three wands.
"These are all the wands with a phoenix feather core I have. I hope one of them suits you… it is not an abundant material," Reiner said, handing Harry one of the wands.
The thing felt dead in his palm, and Harry handed it right back. The next wand he received, however, instantly gave a response. Multicoloured sparks flew from its tip, lighting up the darkened room like it was Christmas. He instantly felt a primal connection with the wand, something that he wasn't able to describe even with all his knowledge on magic.
"Wunderbar," Reimer said, clapping his hands at the display, before he opened one of his drawers. From within, he pulled a wrist holster and handed it to Harry.
"Here," the old man said, "this concludes my end of the bargain."
Sirius stood up and retrieved the pouch from his inner pocket before handing it to Reimer. The old man took the pouch and hefted it, before nodding.
"Good," Sirius said, "well then,Harold, I think we're done here. Let's go."
"Sure thing,Sam," Harry said with a grin while tying the wand holster around his right forearm.
With that they left the small, dingy room and the satisfied forger with his two hundred galleons, and with identical pops, they disappeared from the muddy alley.
The sun poked through the window and woke Harry up the next morning. Knowing that if he tried to go back to sleep he'd only get a headache, he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and grumpily got out of bed.
Finding the bathroom in the house was a bit frustrating, but it paid off as soon as he walked through the door.
"Oh yeah," Harry mumbled, taking in the sight of Sirius' bathroom.
A tub large enough for Hagrid to bathe in was against the far wall, which was covered completely by one giant mirror. A large shower stall with multiple nozzles stood to the left, a toilet, a bidet, a towel rack and a sink to the right wall.
"This is gonna be great," he said to himself, quickly taking off his clothes and turning all the bathtub taps as far as they could go. Getting inside the bubbly bath, he dunk his head under the water, scrubbing his greasy hair as hard as he could. After several minutes of intensive scrubbing, he let himself relax.
He noticed a metallic box on the surface between the bathtub and the mirror, and his curiosity getting the better of him, he reached out and opened it. Inside the box, lined in a perfect row were half a dozen Cuban cigars, a lighter resting on top of them.
As soon as the lid hit the hard surface, a small scale illusion of a woman flickered into the vapour filled air. Soft, slow, sensual music came from the cigar box, and the woman slowly started dancing to it, touching herself in the most inappropriate places.
Taking a cigar and putting it between his teeth, Harry took the lighter and lit it, taking a slow drag while watching the performance of the illusionary woman. He had enough after she took her bra off, and so he flicked the top of the cigar box closed.
"Sirius, where in Merlin's name do you get these things?"
Half an hour later, feeling refreshed and a totally new man, Harry emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and a half burned cigar between his teeth. Checking Sirius' dresser, he stole some clothes before he headed down on the ground floor of the villa, ready to make himself a hearty breakfast.
A strong reprimand and fifteen minutes later, he was treated a breakfast worthy of a king. After the meal he leaned back and took a deep breath.
"Master Harry."
Harry looked down towards the voice, finding Sirius' house elf, Keely, standing with a piece of parchment in her hands.
"What is it Keely?"
"Master Sam tells Keely to be giving Master Harry this," the small elf said, thrusting the parchment in Harry's lap. Unrolling the small scroll, Harry's eyes travelled the lines of the familiar handwriting.
Harry,
Someone has to put food on the table, so
I'm off to Japan, meeting some eggheads.
I'll be back in three days.
Sam
P.S. Don't do anything stupid,
like going after Voldemort.
Harry grinned. It seemed that despite everything, no one ever told Sirius not to give Harry ideas.
And Harry Potter had an idea.
Rain pelted at the large windows of the Dunham villa, the wind howling and causing ripples in the grass on the small meadow in the front. Down the narrow muddy path, a louder whooshing sound came, accompanied by a white flash. From the light stepped out a man, the owner of the house, Samuel Dunham, obscurely known as Sirius Black.
Despite the dreadful weather, the man seemed to be full of cheer, as he practically skipped the rest of his way toward the main entrance of the villa. Throwing the door open, he ducked inside and shook his coat in the hallway, before taking it off.
"Keely," he called, and instantly, his house elf materialized before him.
"Take this coat," he said, tossing it on the ground, before he bent down and took off his boots, "and these boots, and have them cleaned."
"Yes, Master Sam," the elf said, picking up the coat and the dragon hide boots from the floor.
"So, what's Harry been up to while I was gone," Sirius asked the house elf.
"Master Sam, Keely is meaning no disrespect or nothing," she said, before glancing about herself, "but Keely is thinking that Master Harry has been losing his mind."
Sirius' eyebrows shot up.
"What makes you say that," he asked.
"Well," Keely whispered, before leaning in closer, pushing herself up on her long toes, "Master Harry does not come out of the drawing room. He is throwing papers on the floor, glues pictures to the wall, draws on the table, puts muggle toys in the corners. He drinks all of Master Sam's firewhiskey and didn't sleep and eat nothing since Master Sam is leaving. Keely tried once to clean the room, but Master Harry shoots Keely with spells. Keely is sorry Master."
By that time, the house elf had tears in her eyes.
"Don't be, Keely, you did nothing wrong. I'll go upstairs and see what's going on," Sirius said, stabbing his feet into a pair of flip-flops and trudging up the stairs. The closer he got to the drawing room, more certain he was that he could hear music.
"That be the music," Keely said from behind him, hiccupping all the way. "It be playing over and over."
"That's the third movement of Summer by Vivaldi," Sirius muttered to himself. "What the hell..."
He opened the door of the drawing room to see it in shambles.
It was precisely as Keely described it, photos and newspaper articles hanging on the walls, scrolls, folders and plastic soldiers littering the floor. And in the middle of the mess stood Harry, a half empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand.
Sirius immediately moved to the gramophone in the corner of the room and pulled the needle off the record.
"What- Sirius... I mean,Sam," Harry exclaimed, walking towards his godfather and giving him a hug. "You're back!"
"Yes, yes," Sirius said, patting Harry's shoulder and twitching his nose. Apparently, Harry also neglected to bathe during the time he was away. "I'm back. Now, do you mind explaining what the hell you've done to my drawing room?"
"Oh, wait till you see this," Harry said, moving through the scrolls and picking one newspaper article from the wall.
"What's this?"
"The beginning and the end! Nebuchadnezzar's Archway. The Veil, Sirius, the Veil," Harry said, excited for a reason Sirius couldn't fathom.
"Yeah, I can see that. So?"
"It was only discovered six months before you went through it. You're one lucky guy, Sirius."
"Still, I don't think that's a good enough reason to wreck my house, Harry."
"Look – forget the house, a repairing and some cleaning charms will fix it in a jiffy – look, here, here," he said, dragging Sirius to a folder on the ground.
"Look, they still don't know what it is," Harry said, leafing through the pages in the folder. Sirius noted the Unspeakables' crest on the corners of each page. "They decoded some of the symbols on the arch, but that's as far as they got."
"I still don't-"
"Oh, Merlin! Do I need to spell everything out for you?" Harry shouted in frustration. "This is our exit strategy, Si- Sam! This is our way out! Don't you get it? We can go home now. We canfindhome now."
"Harry,thisis home now. I've lived here for tenyears," Sirius said.
"No," Harry said shaking his head. "No, I refuse to believe that. You love her, you – no, you love her."
"Love her," Sirius asked, his brow furrowing. "Love who?"
"That woman. The one that you didn't want to lie to," Harry said, "Well you can meet her now, somewhere where you're not a mass murderer, or a dead sycophant."
Sirius sighed. "Harry, maybe you need to get some rest, eh? We'll talk about this in the morning. When you're not drunk."
"No! No, I'm not drunk. I mean... Yeah. Yeah! I am drunk. Positively pissed! Sloshed!" Harry exclaimed, patting Sirius on the shoulder. "Right you are, S- Sam. Right you are."
He stood up, swaying a bit.
"The solution became the problem, but the problem will become the solution," Harry muttered to himself, before raising his voice. "I'll take a sandwich from the kitchen and head straight for bed." He raised a finger, dangerously close to poking Sirius' eye. "But wewilltalk about this in the morning."
He moved to the door, but then stopped and turned around.
"You! And you," Harry said, pointing a finger at Keely and Sirius, making the former jump in fright. "Don't touchanyof this," he said, waving his hands about. "I don't know if I'll remember it all tomorrow."
With that, he left the room, leaving a shaken house elf and a concerned godfather behind.
When he awoke, he awoke to pain. A massive migraine seemed to claw through his brain like a goblin through earth.Opening his eyes only made it worse, but he spotted someone holding a vial in front of his face. A vial filled with black bubbling liquid.
He grabbed the container greedily and chugged in one go, swallowing before his taste buds could register the taste of the vile potion. His migraine settled down to a dull throb, and after the same person put a pair of sunglasses on his face, the pain disappeared completely.
He looked up to see the face of his godfather.
"Hey... Sam," he said, yawning.
"Why, hello there Harry. Mind explaining why my drawing room is a complete mess?"
"Yeah. Sorry about that." He scratched his head. "I guess I got a little carried away. What time is it?"
"Two P.M."
"I could really use a bath right now," Harry said, sniffing his armpits. "And a meal. I'm starving."
"Don't let me stop you," Sirius said. "But after that meal, you owe me an explanation." He got up from his chair and left the room.
Harry sighed, thinking about the best way to get his godfather to agree with his plans. It wasn't going to be easy, especially after his performance from the night previous.
Slowly, he got up from his bed and dragged himself to the bathroom. He didn't open the cigar box, seeing as he was not in the mood for a cigar, nor striptease. He stayed there for half an hour, scrubbing himself clean from all the grease that had accumulated from him sweating due to intoxication.
Feeling a little lighter, he quickly put on the clothes Keely had left him in the bathroom and went downstairs, into the kitchen.
A warm meal consisting of several dishes awaited him downstairs, on the kitchen table. Under the neutral gaze of his godfather, he gingerly took a seat. He waited for a moment, knowing that Sirius had many questions for him, but after the latter voiced none, he dug into the food. Ten minutes later, he pushed away the empty plate and sighed in content.
"Now," Sirius said, leaning forward, "about last night..."
"Yeah," Harry said, shifting in his seat, feeling like fourteen years old again, "well, I suppose it's best that I start at the beginning."
Setting himself in a more comfortable seating position, he cleared his thriat.
"Well, after you fell through the veil, I was angry. So chased Bellatrix up to the Atrium and used the Crucatius Curse on her," he said.
"Wow. Harry I..." Sirius said, taking a moment to consider his words before continuing, "I'm touched... Now tell me... Did you fry her brain?"
"It only lasted for half a second or something," Harry said, "it didn't work. Then she turned on me, using the Crucatius, but before she could do much damage, Dumbledore showed up and blasted her off her feet. Next thing I know, Voldemort appears and starts fighting him, bringing down half the Atrium in his attempt to kill us."
"Wow... Dumbledore and Voldemort going all out... I wish I'd been there."
"I wish I wasn't. Seeing that he was on the brink of losing, Voldemort tried to possess me, but failed again, and then Fudge showed up."
"The pig with the medal? Oh, this is precious," Sirius said sarcastically.
"Yeah. And hestillneeded convincing that the Voldemort that destroyed half his Atrium wasn't some illusion Dumbledore had cooked up. Anyway, we took a portkey to Dumbledore's office and then he told me the prophecy. Suffice to say, I was so mad at him that I destroyed his office without lifting my wand."
Sirius whistled.
"Yeah. He forgave me though. He must've known how I felt."
"Okay. Then what happened?"
"Well, the next year..."
And so Harry recounted the details of his adventure, not leaving anything behind.
"... but his spell flew back at him, because the Elder Wand wouldn't kill it's own master, unless he wanted to die."
"That's just... convoluted," Sirius said, shaking his head.
"Hey, don't look at me, it was Dumbledore's plan," Harry said, shrugging. "but the important thing was that it worked. Frankly, that's good enough for me."
"Yeah, but... the Deathly Hallows? Come on, Harry, that's a children's bedtime story. They're a myth! They can't be real."
"If they weren't, I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you."
"Okay. Your story was good to know and all that, but what's it got to do with what you did upstairs," Sirius asked.
"Well, Voldemort is sitting on our way out of here. So – and I think you'll agree with me – he has to go."
"Harry, why are you in such a rush to get away," Sirius asked. "I don't understand you. Voldemort does have Britain, but this is France. There's no war here."
"But there will be. If I know Voldemort, the world won't be enough, let alone Britain," Harry retorted. "And I don't know about you, but I'm not content to spend my life under the name of an ex lard-arse called Harold fucking Devereaux."
Sirius sighed.
"Harry, this is not our fight. France has Aurors. The ICW has Hitwizards. There's no need to get involved in this," he said.
"Look, I know all that. But still, Britain had Aurors, statistically the best in the world. And look what happened there."
"Okay. Let's say he takes France. We'll just move to Germany," Sirius tried to reason with him. "Heck, we'll move to Japan. We have the money for it."
"I don't know about you, but I don't speak Japanese, and my German is rusty as hell," Harry said. "But if you think running is a solution, you're deluded. You're going to die on the run, either by his hand or of old age. And that doesn't sit well with me."
Sirius remained silent, milling over Harry's words.
"The choice is simple, Sirius. Fight, with the possibility of dying, or run forever, with the possibility of dying," Harry said, leaning back. "My choice stands. With or without you."
After a long pause, Sirius opened his mouth.
"Alright. Show me this plan of yours," Sirius said, before noting Harry's grin "and I'llthinkabout it."
Silently, they stood up and walked upstairs to the drawing room, where Harry's plans and ideas were locked, waiting to be executed.