Harry was awoken a few hours later to the sounds of his remaining roommates scurrying around, finishing packing anything they might want over the next fortnight outside the boundaries of the school. As Harry sleepily climbed out of bed, he received questioning glances from the other three boys, all clearly curious as to why Ron was suddenly absent.
Harry was nervous - the emotional stress the Weasly's were under would more than likely make any odd behavior on his part pass by unnoticed. However, Snape would be looking for any reason to punish Harry, and though his visits were infrequent, Harry had no doubt that he would be forced to see the Potions Master at some point over the holidays. More worrisome however were Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore - any discrepancies in either his story or actions would be disastrous.
Cursing the newly deceased Mr. Weasly for making the holidays so damned difficult, Harry walked through the corridor, coming for the second time in just a few hours to the entrance to Dumbledore's office. With a sigh, he asked for entrance, and soon came face to face with Dumbledore himself.
Dumbledore's face was weary, his eyes lacking any sort of twinkle. With a quick good morning, he ushered Harry to the hearth, and with a flash, Harry tumbled out of the grate into the living room of Grimmauld Place.
It was, as far as falling-on-your-ass-landings go, a rather solemn affair. Ms. Weasly immediately ran out of the kitchen and pulled Harry into a hug, fighting hard to control her sobs. After a long silence, Ms. Weasly spoke. "Harry dear, you're alright."She paused, as if searching for the right words. "The others are upstairs...Arthur...Arthur."
She broke down, unable to hold herself back against such fresh wounds. Harry thought back to the beginning of the summer, when Ms. Weasly's greatest fear was revealed to be the dead bodies of her family.One man's poison.
Suppressing a shiver of joy at such sick irony, Harry hugged the poor woman back. "Mrs. Weasly...I'm so sorry.""Nonsense dear...," she tried again, "Arthur wanted to see you but...all of us want to let you know we don't blame you dear...Thank you for doing what you could."
Finally unraveling himself from the Weasly matriarch, Harry excused himself, saying he'd like to check on Ron. Mrs. Weasly gave a quick nod, before returning to the kitchen.
Harry made his way up the stairs, and quickly found the four youngest Weasly's in the twin's bedroom, all with tear-stained and sleep deprived faces.
"Ron...Everyone." Harry was unsure how to continue the greeting,Good Morningdidn't quite seem appropriate.Though really, good mourning couldn't fit better.Ignoring the cruel voice in his mind, Harry entered the room, where Ginny immediately flung herself into his arms, all shyness and jealousy forgotten.
Harry patted her awkwardly on the back for a few moments before she let go. With a brief one-armed hug to Ron and a nod to the twins, Harry stepped back, unsure how to progress.
"Harry, I'm sure mum mentioned it..."
"But really, we don't want you blaming yourself..."
"Like you do for just about everything..."
The twins stopped, unable to keep up the lighthearted tone they were aiming for in light of current events. Harry nodded, accepting their words nonetheless.
The moment quickly became awkward, and Harry excused himself, telling the mournful group to call for him if they needed anything at all. Turning around, Harry headed towards his room, eager to hold an impromptu chat with Kreacher.
I locked the door to my room as soon as I entered - I've got some rather precarious things to take care of, and I need them well in place before Dumbledore or Lupin come around snooping. Sirius will be asleep for another few hours, and anyway he's not about to believe anything off putting about me, and the Weasly's are far too upset to notice as well.
"Kreacher", I hiss. In an instant, the little vermin is standing before me, bowing so deeply I can't be sure it isn't mocking. Have to punish him for that...later though, things to do now.
"Kreacher, I presume you followed the contents of my letter." He looks up, eyes filled with misplaced smugness. Really, I can't wait till I order him to chop off his own head.
"Yes, Master Harry. Box from pretty Lady Flint is waiting you in the library." I have to stifle a laugh - nothing short of Amorentia could make Flint remotely good looking...just shows you how idiotic elves really are. When the time comes, I'm going to have to find something else to do my menial tasks - bloody elves would feed their masters poison if they thought it was what was in their masters' interests.
"Excellent work Kreacher, our noble task is close to completion." Utter bullocks. "If no one is around just now, I'd like to finally see the esteemed library of the House of Black." Kreacher grins, a nasty upright slit across his grubby face. "No one around that will notice. Follow me young Master."
The library is on the fourth floor, far above where everyone is sleeping or moping. He stops outside of a portrait depicting a group of wizards sitting around a table full of fruit. On the ground at one of the wizard's feet is a humanoid dog - what I suppose passes as artistic representation of muggles, eating from a bowl on the floor.
Kreacher stops, and with another gruesome grin whispers as if protecting a great secret - which, in a way Isuppose he is. "The password for Master's library isToujours Pur/." I roll my eyes, /how original.Still what it lacks in creativity it makes up for in obscurity. I can't imagine any of the current inhabitants of this house roaming down the hallway spouting off the Family motto.
I dismiss Kreacher, and walk up to the painting. It's quite humorous up close - some rather funny details. The muggle only has three fingers per hand, and the wizards keep looking down at him with glares of disgust. Yes, humorous.
I say the password aloud and the wizards look up, giving me a look over before nodding curtly. One of them kicks the muggle, who stands up, hunched and wobbling towards a rope in the corner. He pulls it, and I'm rather impressed as the painting begins to move upward, as if the muggle is truly forced to lift the entire room he's in. Though it wouldn't surprise if the magic in the paint made him do just that. Spiteful bastards, purebloods.
The library is impressive -hundreds of years - seven centuries according to Kreacher - of Black knowledge stored in a single spot. It has a nice stereotypical air to it - dark corners, dusty walls...an oppressive gloom hangs about all over it. No time for it now I'm afraid, I risked a fucking Unforgivable and have waited bloody months to glean the secrets of the box that sits in the center of a low table just ahead of me.
Sitting down, I remove the lid, pulling out the first of scores of dusty parchment.Tell me Headmaster, just what kind of nasties do you hide in your school.
Harry sighed. Three days, three bloody days he had been sorting through his new finds in the hidden confines of the Black Library. It had been tedious work, broken by long periods of talking with Sirius and comforting the Weasly's. Even so, he had spent far many more hours than he had intended searching through mindless notes of gossip and minor pranks - notes that were charmed to sting those not intended to read them or quills whose ink smelt of dung bombs.
That first day, Harry had endured abiting hex and an itching curse before unleashing a storm of curses and summoning Kreacher, demanding the elf remove all hazardous jinxes whilst noting what curse was used on each document.
Now, Harry sighed again, laying his head into the deep chair he was reading in. It was Christmas Eve, he could not continue much longer before his presence would be wanted in the living room. Despite the somber mood, Sirius seemed determine to spend each evening talking to Harry about the most trivial matters he could muster. Harry couldn't hold it against him, must be dreadful to be forever a prisoner in his own home...Yes, Harry could relate with that.
Opening his eyes, Harry looked down at the handful of papers in his hand: a note that was jinxed with a compulsion spell that forced the bearer to shout the contents of the message. Clever, had it been something more meaningful that "Professor Mortimer smells like dragon shit."
The next page had been torn from atextbook, and was covered in long lists of numbers, the word Emergency scrawled across the top. Filch probably took it as a curse creation attempt.Ah no, here's a gem, thought Harry sarcastically,seems Benjamin Smith professed his love for Sally Johnson in the great hall...yes very dangerous...]
Harry grumbled. Filch was simply aparanoid shit, plain and simple. Course, he was currently under /Imperio, so perhaps it was justified. On that comforting thought, Harry left the library, returning to the somber circus that lived below.
Christmas day was in its own way worse than the beginning of the holiday - the lack of Mr. Weasly was felt throughout the house, and Ron could not keep himself from muttering angrily that perhaps Harry could have been faster, and his father would still be alive. It was for this reason that Harry now found himself idly wandering through the house, lost in thought.
"Alright there Pup?" Harry turned around to see Sirius standing behind him, his hand coming to rest on Harry's shoulder. Harry gave a quick smile, "Yeh...I suppose...You know I would have been faster if I could..." Harry took a deep breath. "Harry, no one blames you - it's just difficult for Ron to cope right now." Harry nodded, turning back around to gaze at the wall.
The wall in question was in fact covered by a giant tapestry, outlining the Black Family and winding back for generations. "Where are you?" Harry asked absentmindedly, trying to redirect the conversation.
"Ah...not on there anymore - got kicked off when I ran away." Sirius chuckled, "I take it as a good thing - not many Blacks on that bloody thing ever became half-way decent."
Sirius moved closer, bringing Harry with him. "That's Phineas Nigellus Black - worst headmaster in Hogwarts history. And that's Cassiopeia Black - had a hobby of confounding muggles at weddings - making them marry the wrong people. More recently, my charming cousins - Bellatrix and Narcissa, the latter which spawned your pal Malfoy.
"And this" Sirius added with a puff of pride. "This scorch mark is me, got thrown out for telling the lot of them to bugger off." Here Sirius paused, as if in deep thought. "Suppose not every Black here is a bastard - that's Dorea, married Chesper Potter - your grandparents."
The two stood in silence for a moment, Harry lost in thought and the shock of for the first time, having tangible evidence of his grandparents, from either side of the family. /Real tight group, we Potter's are. And all the Evan's I know are a capitol lot too,Harry thought bitterly. Something however, didn't quite click.
"Sirius, if you er...told them to bugger off...how is it possible that we're all here, in this house?" Sirius barked a mirthless laugh. "Not much gets past you these days does it Pup? We're here because my mother was a loon, the original ward casters never imagined that the last surviving Black would be exiled from his own home."
"Exiled...so you're not a Black?"This, Harry decided, was quickly becoming a worthwhile conversation.
"Only in name Pup. Hell, through Dorea you're legally more of a Black than me. Well...after Malfoy, that little prat." Sirius grimaced "Sorry you have to live with that connection."
Harry nodded, but said nothing."It's all very confusing" Sirius sighed, "and to be honest, I never really paid attention growing up." Harry snorted, muttering "sure that's changed?"
Sirius chuckled, then continued his explanation. "Best we can work out, I can't access the Black Vault or take control of the house - believe my I've tried more than once, as much as it disgusts me. Dear old mum's banishment can't be undone, and when I die, Malfoy or, if the little git kicks it, you as the closest living Black relative can claim the position of Head of House."
This revelation was shocking, and Harry began to shift his priorities. Draco, in an instant was promoted from minor pain in the ass to enemy number one. Harry turned his attention back to Sirius. "...so as the last Black alive, I have right to live here, but legally, Ican't do anything. Just a place holder."
Sirius sighed, then attempted to lighten the mood. "Still, you can take over, and then I'll ask you do me the favor of spending every bloody knut on Muggle sweets and Playwizards. Let them roll in their bloody graves."
The two shared a laugh. The somber mood broken, the two walked out of the room, leaving the tapestry behind and aslightly happier atmosphere grew between the two.
Boxing Day, Harry woke late, spending much of the night coming up with methods to rid himself of the first heir to the Black wealth. Yawning, he stumbled into the kitchen, expecting to slip in unnoticed in the bustle of breakfast. Instead, he found a white faced and silent crowd, staring at the day'sProphet.
"What's the tossrag tossing today?"Harry asked, though inwardly cringing at what could have everyone so shocked.Surely they're not putting Weasly all over the paper...
Everyone jumped at the unexpected intrusion and Remus, grim faced, slid a copy of the paper towards Harry. Grabbing it, Harry only had to read the headline to understand the seriousness of the situation.
Mass Breakout from Azkaban!
Harry didn't bother reading the article - as usual it would be nothing but nonsense, no doubt claiming Sirius to be the mastermind of the breakout. Instead, he turned his attention to the photographs under the headline itself. Dolohov, Rockwood, Lestrange, Lestrange, Lestrange...Harry stopped, rereading the last name before staring at the photo. No, not Lestrange,Bellatrix.
Harry paused, trying to remember where he had seen her before. Sirius had mentioned her the day before, but the face...this was not the first time he'd seen it. It came to him in a flash -Dumbledore's pensive - this woman had tortured Neville's parents into insanity.
Harry compared the image before him with that in his memory. He recalled Bellatrix as beautiful, dark black hair and a cat-like grace and pride, even when shackled and found guilty before the entire Wizarding world. The picture on theProphetwas obviously far more recent - her face was pinched, practically a skull. Despite the size of the image, it was obvious that she was covered in grime and dirt, her hair wild and unkempt.
The eyes though - the eyes were the same. Other than himself, Harry would grant her the title of most distinguishable eyes - doorways to a corrupted soul. Her eyes held an insanity, a zealous devotion to her cause, something that her time in Azkaban had only intensified.
Harry shuddered as a bolt of pleasure thrummed through his scar. How he wished he could meet this warrior that stared back at him!
Remembering he was not alone, Harry looked up, noticing with relief that the others had taken his visible shiver as revulsion and not excitement and anticipation. Having nothing to say, he simply handed the paper back, masking his face with mild disgust and anger.
"I suppose" Lupin began slowly,"that even if their accusations are misplaced, this can only help the Order's recruitment drive." Ms. Weasly nodded, though she was visibly shaken. "If it's Order Members you need" began George, "Then you could have two more - easy as stealing a toilet..."
"No!" shrieked. Attempting to calm herself she paused before continuing, "You two will not be joining the Order...too young, all of you...too young." The twins looked away, and no one spoke. Truly, there was nothing left to say.
The tension was only lightened slightly that afternoon, when an escorted Hermione Granger arrived at Headquarters, immediately flinging herself into Ron. "Oh Ron, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" she muttered into his shirt. Ron blushed brilliantly, awkwardly returning Hermione's fierce embrace.
After breaking apart, Hermione turned to Harry. "Harry...after the news this morning I've been doing some thinking. Do you think we might go upstairs." At Ron's gaping look, she amended"/all/ of us...Honestly Ron..." though her chastisement had no sting.
Ron blushed, but followed the two to the room Hermione and Ginny shared. "Before you say anything...Harry, I'm sorry about my outburst yesterday. I know it's not your fault. S'just hard you know? Bloody hell and to think I've spent a good bit of the last five years jealous of what you've got...I'd imagine you'd trade it all in a heartbeat, yeh?"Ron finished with a weak laugh.
Harry nodded and returned that empty chuckle. "S'alright Ron - no hard feelings. I'd have to be a real twat to hold things against you right now." Crisis averted, the two turned towards Hermione. "Right well..." Hermione stuttered. "I was thinking that it's obvious the Ministry isn't really going to do anything and...well even at Hogwarts the Defense isn't really /defense /is it? It's just...well it's more Awareness against the Dark Arts..."
"Hermione" Harry interrupted, "your babbling." Hermione nodded, and after a deep breath began anew. "Harry Ithink...I think maybe you should teach a class to some of the students...a more practical class."
"Errr...I'm not really fit to teach Hermione.Stupefy and Expelliarmusaren't anything new to anyone over third year."And I'll Diffindo my left nut if I'm sharing anything stronger with you lot.
"Harry! You bloody well are better than that." Ron seemed enthused at the prospect, though whether due to his father, this morning's news, orperish the thoughtHermione, Harry wasn't sure. Regardless, he closed in on Harry with a rarely seen passion. "You did a bloody Patronus years ago - and you've fought You-Know-Who personally loads of times. Blood hell Harry, just bloody do it!"
Harry paused, thinking about this sudden proposition. He had no true desire to make amends with his friends, but such 'friendship' would be useful in maintaining normality - how he'd managed to avoid suspicion from McGonagall or Dumbledore was beyond him...though perhaps he simply wasn't privy to their thoughts...yes, too much too soon could be disastrous.
As for the Defense Group...it presented an interesting opportunity. Even if he only taught 'light' spells, it would give him a rather good idea of who amongst his class mates could make for good soldiers. Even in his own head his future inner circle was incomplete - it would not do to have those closest to him weak and worthless. Perhaps Hermione had unwittingly handed Harry an important piece to the puzzle before him.
"Who did you have in mind." Harry asked, curious as to how far Hermione had thought this through. By the way she beamed back, she had anticipated his acceptance.S'what I get for being led around by the nose...
"I've made up a list of all the older years. I thought we could invite say thirty students, ten from each house if we could manage it." Hermione pulled a number of sheets from a muggle notebook out her pocket, shoving them at Harry. "Here's what I've gathered so far."
Harry gave the list a cursory glace. /Katie Bell, Terry Boot...Colin Creevy/. Harry suppressed a snort, obviously this was not a final listing.Gregory Smyth, Alexander Thompson, Lisa Turpin. The list was a wide selection of upper years, but sorely lacking in one particular house.
"I think we should invite some of the Slytherins" Harry said, looking up from his reading.
"What! You...you can't be serious?" Ron's asked in a tone of complete surprise. Hermione was more compromising, though just barely. "Who...who do you have in mind?" she asked, though her voice only thinly veiled her distaste at the idea.
"I was wondering about Zabini -I've worked with him and he's decent enough...well maybe not decent but he's not one of Malfoy's cronies. Maybe those two he hangs out with - Greengrass, is it?"
Ron was clearly not pleased with the proposal, and Hermione for all her talk of putting aside stereotypes seemed fairly against the idea as well. /Cauldron calling the kettle black, /Harry mused.
"Harry...I suppose if you want to try we could at least invite them...if they try to sabotage..." "If they act out of line I'll throw them out myself." Harry interrupted in a tone that brokered no argument. Hermione nodded, seemingly satisfied that she had gotten Harry to agree so quickly, even if he was not following her idea to the letter.
The motion settled, the three moved on to happier topics, and for the first time in months, the golden trio returned, and for a moment they could pretend everything was fine.
Last bloody day until its back to Hogwarts. When it rains it fucking pisses. After the Azkaban breakout and meeting up with Hermione, it's been one tossing charade after another. Honestly, why Ron can't go back to spending hours alone in his bedroom...or at the very least Hermione, bloody girl used to live to spend time alone with abook.
And now, to be truthful I'm almost regretting getting Arthur killed. I can't take credit for it technically Isuppose, but that bit of fun is taking its toll. Oh, it was fine when the Weasly's wanted to have a good private cry in a corner, but now it's a constant family hug - something I never got when my parents died. Honestly, let's see how Ron would do being sent to the Dursley's...bastard'd be dead in a week. It's why I'm stronger than they are.
And if the sickening display of Weasly lovy-dovy soppiness isn't enough to cap off my holiday, today's paper just had to insert itself a little further up our asses. Seems the ministry, after Sirius broke out a gang of insane murders and murdered anunnamed government employee- right like no one noticed Mr. Weasly just pissing off...well perhaps not when I think of it...
Anyway, the ministry has decided that to ensure the safety of the wizarding populace of Britain, a ministry official is to be posted at Hogwarts to 'guarantee the protection of our wizarding future." Bad enough, the result is Hermione prattling on to anyone who's around that it's just a scheme to shunt Dumbledore aside. For fuck's sake, does she really think that when she's in the library the rest of us are eating chocolate frogs and wanking off to the Weird Sisters? We're not /all/Ron.
With everything going on, I haven't seen hide nor hair of anyone remotely interesting. Shame - I was planning on seducing Tonks. Well, not seducing so much as whacking her with the magical bonds and then fucking her senseless. Naughty ideas - I haven't had Lavender or Daphne in over two weeks - be nice to make Tonks change into both. One day I'll have to discover how many forms I can shag Tonks in during one sitting.
But for now, pipe dreams - only things that qualifies as shaggable are Ginny and Hermione - and that's only because they have the right bits...well Ginnyprobablydoes. Not that desperate though. Best not to think about it.
I've got to plan for Malfoy though. Dripping twat needs to be killed sooner rather than later. Sirius isn't renowned for making reliable, well-thought out decisions. Only a matter of time before he does something stupid. Depending on just how large the Black vault is, something drastically stupid may have to find him. I love Sirius truly but...well Dumbledore says it best,for the greater good.
Harry was lost in thought as he lay in the Black library, enjoying a small respite from the constant yammerings of the Order's Headquarters. Hermione had finally left him alone, determined to do some study before returning to school. Ron had rolled his eyes at her proclamation, arguing that as they had just taken exams, there wasn't anythingtostudy.
Hermione had huffed, claiming that wasn't the point. Ron had thus joined the twins in a Weasly variant of Gobstones, an invitation which Harry had declined. Now, he was alone, preparing to return to Hogwarts.
Rousing himself, he returned to the task at hand, going through the last of Filch's contraband. Thus far, it had proven to be a futile task, and Harry was becoming increasingly angrier at both Filch for being such a paranoid git and Flint for fulfilling such a useless task, even if it had been his idea.
With another weary sigh, Harry rubbed his eyes and pulled out the next bit of parchment. Odd, it was heavier than most of the others. Turning it over, Harry was surprised not to find another curse protected note or petty prank. Rather, it was a photograph, though unlike other wizard photos Harry had seen, this was taken on what appeared to be normal parchment.
Harry found himself transfixed by the image before him. The room was the Slytherin common room Harry realized, recognizing it from his brief foray into the room in second year. There were seven students within the photo, all with solemn faces, a happier image would merit the word 'mournful'.
In the center was a girl standing tall, a prefect's badge clearly visible against her dark green robe. This girl...woman had plagued Harry's thoughts since Christmas - she might be far younger than he had ever seen her, but there was no mistaking her for anyone but Bellatrix Black.
Next to her was a smaller girl, though their looks were similar - the primary difference being this other girl's bright blonde hair. /Narcissa/? Harry wasn't sure - Bellatrix had another sister - Tonk's mother - and as Harry had never met her nor seen Tonk's true form as far as he was aware...it could of course be someone else entirely. Bloody purebloods...
To the other side was the spitting image of Malfoy - no doubt this was Malfoy Sr. Four other boys were in the photo as well, though Harry had no knowledge as to who they might be. The tallest boy, a sickly, sallow skinned fellow with a deep scowl was the Head Boy- it shouldn't be too hard to narrow down who he was with the right resources. All were Slytherin, and by what little he knew, it was a reasonable bet most of this group ended up serving the Dark Lord...course many of these could be dead now.
Harry shrugged, he would learn nothing new from this photo right now, however interesting it might be. The documents before him were an obvious dead end. Packing them back into the box, he placed them within a cabinet located along the side wall of the library. Without asecond thought, he placed the photo into his pocket, idly deciding to hide it amongst his supplies.
With a final look behind, Harry left the library, heading down for a final dinner before returning to Hogwarts.