Chapter 38: Close To Home - Summer 1994
While Hermione knew that she and Percy Weasley had differing views on many topics, he was still a good source of information. She talked to him at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Percy, do you remember Barty Crouch Senior? He was arrested a year or so ago."
"Yes. Funny, that. He and I chatted briefly just before then, since I have Ministry aspirations. But dad warned me off him, saying there was something shifty about him despite his very clean-cut sensibilities. I hadn't made up my mind either way about taking the job I have now, with the Department for International Relations. Next I heard, the man was in Azkaban!"
"Wow."
"You know, my father has quite the nose for people," Percy subtly bragged. Hermione found it endearing.
"Right. Well, I was wondering what happens to the elves that belong to families… like his."
"Ah, yes. It's a tricky subject. Since he's been given a life sentence, his living assets have been sold off. There's an appeal timeline…"
Once Percy's long-winded explanation came to a close, the witch asked, "Are buyers recorded?" Hermione tacked on some lies and flattery to make her question seem more innocuous.
Percy offered to check.
A week after the Cup, he sent Hermione a short note saying that Winky was purchased by a wizard named Bartholomew Bowdon. Hermione sent back a note of thanks to Percy.
The witch noted, Bartholomew Bowdon name sounds an awful lot like an alias for Bartemius Crouch, father or son. She sighed dramatically in the privacy of her own room. Ron would have picked a name that was much cleverer.
Harry startled when he saw Cedric Diggory at the portkey to the Quidditch World Cup. Harry felt grim at the reminder of a person he still needed to save but tried to keep it off his face.
Harry was glad that Ron had unraveled the mystery of the letter from Lily-as-Snape. The green-eyed teen had been confused in a blank sort of way about the note.
All told, the Quidditch World Cup had been fun for Harry even though the game played out exactly the same.
Harry waited contentedly for Sirius at the Burrow the day after the match.
Sirius arrived promptly at the arranged time. However, Harry's serenity was punctured by Sirius' grim expression.
"What happened?" Harry asked when they made it home.
Sirius ran his fingers through his own hair. "I don't want to be a downer right away, but Acturus doesn't think that he has much time left."
"Er." Harry had suspected that Sirius skipped the World Cup to take care of his grandfather. Neither Petunia nor Remus were interested in quidditch, hence why Harry went with the Weasleys again.
Sirius said, "He'd like to see you this morning, if possible."
"Of course." Harry set down his bag and followed Sirius to Acturus' room.
Acturus wasn't in his bed, but Harry still walked in.
There was a creak of a floorboard behind the green-eyed teen. He cast the first spell that came to mind wordlessly.
Acturus vanished the rooster that Harry had just conjured. "Have my grandson teach you better spells than that, boy."
Huh, I had forgotten that I even knew that spell. The man must have disillusioned himself where he was? "Wait, I thought…."
"I may be dying, but I can still do magic. I wanted to see if I could get the drop on you." Acturus' speech was slow and rasping. "Your reflexes are good."
"Thanks," Harry said lightly. He suppressed his embarrassment at his panicked conjuring. He resolved do some drills later to be more prepared for this year's plots. Harry asked Acturus, "Is there anything I can get you?"
Acturus grunted. After he waved the door closed with his wand, he said, "Take a seat."
The old man said, "I have a favor to ask. You see, my grandson can be something of a knucklehead."
Harry defended Sirius. "He's been great so far."
"Good to hear. But he's an asshole like me. And he's got a mean streak a mile wide. Don't think for a second that he wouldn't 'a killed that rat if you hadn't stopped him."
"I don't think that makes him… a terrible person or anything."
Acturus snorted. "I think that makes him a good person, and a good friend to your father. But that's neither here nor there."
Acturus took a few slow breaths before continuing, "You're mature for your age. Sirius is immature for his. I hope that you can keep relying on each other. My godson… doesn't have many people around right now. I think that's why he has so many roommates right now." He put extra emphasis on the word "roommates" but Harry wasn't sure if it was intentional.
Harry said, "Of course. He's family."
"That's a good lad." Acturus gave Harry some more advice about school, life, and love. Acturus championed forgiveness, connection, and speaking one's mind. In a wry tone, he said, "Sirius knows you hate his nickname for Petunia. He's trying to get you to express your thoughts and feelings, son."
After a half hour, they said goodbye.
Acturus passed away that evening.
The atmosphere of the house was somber. Sirius brought out whiskey for himself, Remus, and Petunia. Dobby and Harry drank butterbeer.
Harry noticed a sense of peace in the adults that didn't quite touch him.
Harry had never been around someone who died for reasons other than war. It's still tragic, he reflected, even though I didn't know him all that well. Dumbledore's remarks about the "next great adventure" had never felt so hollow.
Despite his grief, Harry had a task to complete.
One month from his last visit, Harry returned to Gringotts bank. As expected, no one had contested "Sirius'" claims on Hufflepuff's cup.
However, the object was known to the Gringotts goblins. A goblin sneered at Harry, "I do not believe this is a Black family heirloom. The Smiths would have you believe it's theirs."
Ron had coached Harry on this scenario.
Harry told the bank employee, "They can contest it from me, through the courts, if they insist. But who's going to tell them?" Harry dropped a small sack of galleons from up his sleeve on the desk as he reached for the cursed cup. The fewer questions, the better.
The goblin's features shifted, then he pointed out that the object is goblin-made.
Harry was again nonchalant. "Fine work it is, too. Thank you for your assistance."
Harry noted that this approach was less dramatic and less immediately gratifying than the previous timeline's heist, but it paid off.
Ten minutes after he had left the bank, Hufflepuff's Cup was a shriveled hunk of soulless metal.
Harry made his way back to Grimmauld Place very indirectly. He reflected on Acturus' final words as he apparated, took the London Tube, and walked.
Acturus told Harry to stay connected to Sirius. Despite having Sirius' blanket permission for "something I can't explain, but need to use your identity for", Harry felt a little guilty. It was like Dobby all over again.
However, Harry thought he might be a bit tougher, more willing to withhold information from those he cared about. Well, that and Ron and Hermione made him promise point-blank to keep some "forever secrets", such as time travel and Voldemort's second defeat.
It was ironic for an adventure that had started as a search for truth to involve so many lies. Yet Harry had made reluctant peace with that.
Still, Harry tried to take Acturus' advice to heart. Harry thought long and hard about if anything pertaining to Sirius or his new home was bothering him.
After a little mental preparation, Harry approached Sirius at the dining table as he was reading with a cup of tea. "Hey, is now a good time to talk? It's nothing urgent."
"Yeah, now's great!" Sirius set down the newspaper immediately and gave Harry his full attention, which was surprisingly intimidating.
"Er, so. Hmm. I didn't actually plan out where to start."
"Is this about the household? I've been expecting some complaints, being honest."
Harry was confused. "What do you mean?"
Sirius tapped the table lightly. "Nuh-uh. You talk about whatever you'd like. We can come back to what I was expecting later."
"Well, I find the household pastime of picking fights sort of annoying. But no one else seems to mind."
"You're right. We don't. However, I sensed that it was bothering you."
"I know I can leave, but—."
"Do you? Obviously this is your home more than any of ours, so I'm not trying to run you off. But you can certainly leave if you need a break. I get the impression that you enjoy some solitude. This house is big, but not comforting." Sirius ran with that thought, "We can change that, too. Or make improvements to your bedroom. Or set up a separate office for you."
Harry bit his lip in thought. "Can I switch to a different bedroom?"
"Yes! We can take a tour of the house when we're done talking. You can have any room you like, even mine, Remus', or Petunia's."
"Let's look next summer. I only have a few days left." Harry knew from when he lived at the house in the other timeline that he wanted a particular, unused room at the front of the house. It was smaller than his current bedroom, but he liked the view of the square outside and the proximity to the front door.
"Whatever you like. This is our home. But, getting back to what I was saying earlier, don't feel like you have to have a specific reason to leave the house. And you don't have to ask; you can just tell me where you're going and when you expect to be back."
"So I could Floo to Diagon Alley to browse the shops alone?" Harry tested Sirius with an idea that he'd considered.
"Yeah, I think you're old enough for that. Snape told me that Pettigrew is gone, so I also think you'll be as safe as anyone."
"Cool." Harry didn't unpack that Snape and Sirius were still in contact. Nor did he point out that Pettigrew being gone wasn't much of a boon to Harry's personal security — there were still other threats.
"I'll admit that I don't… quite know how well I'm doing as a guardian. Your face is like James', yet his never carried your burdens. Your eyes are like Lily's, yet hers were full of cunning rather than wariness. After Azkaban, everything seems a little… surreal. I don't feel emotions like I did."
Harry shifted in the wooden chair, which creaked. "You're doing well in my book. And obviously Acturus' passing has affected you."
"Still, I want to be there, for whatever you need. Even… even if I'm not sure that you need anything from me."
"I do need you, Sirius. More than you know. I've never had an adult who's taken care of me like you have." And it was true. Even though he was secretly in his early twenties, Harry knew that he still needed the support of Sirius and other people who cared, both peers and adults. They kept the hard times, like Acturus' passing, from swallowing Harry up.
The pair got up from their chairs for a hug.
As he pulled back, Harry said, "Oh, and stop calling my aunt 'Tuney'. It's really awful. You know that, right?"
Sirius grinned widely. "Her given name doesn't inspire great nicknames. We call her Tulip when you're not around."
Harry made a face and went to offer Dobby help with dinner.
Harry set the table while Dobby conducted an orchestra of knives, vegetable peelers, and cooking spoons as he made roast beef with three side dishes. Harry wasn't going to tell his friend that it was probably overkill.
Harry got the feeling that Dobby was faking smiles after Acturus' death, but each day since they felt a little more real.
Harry was reluctant to leave this home behind when he left for school on September 1st.