Butterfly 36 - LMHP
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And we finally see Sirius Black. I didn’t like him very much, I don’t think I did a good job :/ But anyway, enjoy and there should only be one more chapter left of Year 3!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter….. ahhhh! 11,000 words left to go for my Thesis :(
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Words: 3,441
Chapter 36
February 5th 1994. Quidditch Pitch.
Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were playing. For once the Dementors were nowhere in sight, the sky was a bright shade of blue and the winter sun beat down on the audience scattered through the stands. Evan hadn’t been able to make this game, but Lucius sat between his son and his son’s dorm-mates watching Harry dive towards the snitch.
Screams and gasps rang out across the pitch, but the players were too high up to hear them. Lucius looked around, his face calm, even as he pulled his wand free from its holster. Theodore and Terrence were huddled together, watching with wide eyes as Sirius Black followed four Aurors into the Slytherin stand. Lucius shifted sideways to make room for his cousin-in-law, pushing Draco further down the bench, and the Aurors waited silently, standing at the back of the nervous crowd of children and adults.
“Black,” Lucius greeted with a nod of his head and a low voice.
“Malfoy,” Sirius said, offering a small smile. “Is Harry playing? I don’t see him.”
“He’s there,” Lucius told him, pointing at the slight boy in the blue and bronze robes.
“Oh.” He spoke slowly and loudly, blinking his eyes a few times, and Lucius got the impression that the man had forgotten what House Harry was in. “I forgot he was a ‘Claw,” Sirius murmured a moment later, confirming Lucius’ thoughts. “Would have thought he’d be a Gryf like his parents, strange that.”
“Strange,” Lucius said non-committaly, secretly thinking it would have been strange to have Harry in Gryffindor considering his father was Evan Rosier. But he’d let Sirius have his idle fantasies. “So, you are free?” Lucius begun, trying to strike up a conversation.
Sirius’ eyes were on Harry, and Draco held his hand out, offering his pair of Omnioculars. Sirius took them, offering his cousin a small smile. He held them to his face, answering Lucius without looking at him, and stared as his godson swept across the sky, chasing the golden snitch. “Oh, I’m on parole. The Aurors are armed and dangerous, or so they say. I get to spend the day with Harry though, which should be awesome. Haven’t seen Harry in years,” he said, trailing off wistfully.
“More like a decade,” Theodore muttered to his brother. Draco snorted softly, nudging his friend with his elbow. “What? It’s true!”
“So it is,” Sirius whispered, turning his head to look at the pale, dark haired boy. Sirius’ hair fell in loose curls to his chin, his fringe brushing the bottoms of his eyebrows, and grey eyes narrowed as pale lips frowned. “Shame that, eh?” He grinned widely then, looking gaunt and pale, and nothing his fancy clothes or new haircut did would ever hide the fact that he hadn’t seen the sun in twelve years.
When Harry’s fingers closed over the snitch, Sirius cheered the loudest. He jumped to his feet, and behind him the Aurors pulled out their wands in suspicion, but Sirius only clapped and whistled, screaming, “that’s my godson!” at anyone who looked his way. Lucius clapped slowly, rolling his eyes at his cousin’s behaviour and imagining his Lord or Evan’s reaction to the show Sirius was making of himself.
It caught Harry’s attention though. He was about to leave the pitch, following his team mates to the changing room, but he turned around and his eyes instantly landed on the tall man who was waving his arms frantically in the air. Across the pitch, the Weasley twins stopped and stared. Simultaneously, they both turned to Harry and shouted, “Oi! Don’t even think about replacing us!”
“We’re your only crazy, older friends.”
“You got that Potter?”
Harry gave a slow nod, eyes moving back towards Sirius. His heart was beating heavily in his chest and it was becoming difficult to swallow. He had known Sirius would visit today, but he had assumed it would be later, a quick evening visit before curfew that Harry would need to cut short so as to avoid losing house points and spending awkward minutes with his innocently incarcerated godfather. The fears were still there, and Harry hated himself for being so afraid. Either he loved his godfather or he didn’t, and Sirius either accepted him as he was or he didn’t; whatever happens happens, and worrying about the outcome wasn’t helping anything. Harry scolded himself silently, finally offering Sirius a small wave, and then he ran after his team-mates, wanting to get out of sight.
XXX
It was later that night, almost eight in fact, and the students were filing into the great hall to await their dinner. Sirius and Harry had spent the day together, from Harry emerging from the changing room to find Sirius waiting until now where Sirius was walking Harry towards the hall, the team of Aurors following silently behind them.
“Well kid,” Sirius said, wringing his hands in front of his stomach.
It had been a little awkward, but of course it had. Sirius had been expecting a carbon copy of James Potter, and instead he had found Lily’s eyes and Lily’s brain, and a dry sense of humour and calm serious that was more suited to a Slytherin than a Potter. Harry seemed like a wonderful kid, and Sirius was glad of the chance to know him, and so very grateful for whatever reason Lucius Malfoy had decided to spring him from Azkaban. But he just wasn’t what Sirius had been expecting, and several times Sirius had forgotten the boy wasn’t a Gryffindor and put his foot in it, or insulted a Slytherin forgetting they were Harry’s friends.
Harry had borne most of it calmly, clenching his jaw or his fists at all of Sirius’ well-intended jokes at his friends’ expenses or the insults to his own house. He had kept his temper, and what counted most was that he actually liked Sirius. When the man wasn’t being a thoughtless, insulting moron, he was actually funny and kind and interesting. Harry had thought it strange, having Remus Lupin force stories of the Marauder days down his throat during their anti-Dementor lessons and even during Defence Against the Dark Arts, but when Sirius spoke about his father, Harry wanted to hear more. Maybe it was because Sirius was actually family, and he had a right therefore to speak about Harry’s family to him, while Remus was just a friend. Or maybe it was because despite all of Harry’s fears over the situation, he really did want Sirius to like him. Being nice to Sirius, and apparently listening to all of the man’s stories, would go a long way to making the Gryffindor like him.
“This is where I leave you,” Sirius said, pulling the boy into a quick hug. “Maybe we can do this again sometime?”
“Yes,” Harry agreed immediately. He jumped slightly, as if the words had taken him by surprise, and honestly he was shocked that he had agreed so quickly. “I’d like to do this again. Hogsmeade weekend is on the twelfth, if you want to meet there? Are you allowed to meet outside of the school?” Harry furrowed his brows.
“I don’t even know if I’m allowed to leave the Ministry before the trial! I might be on parole, but to the shower of wankers running the government that means locking me in a holding cell instead of my usual Azkaban cell.”
“Charming,” Harry drawled, frowning at the dark look on Sirius’ face. He looked like he would happily stab a couple of people, and Harry wondered if the man ever might be convinced to give into that darker side of himself. But then he pushed the thought away. It was the same as worrying about whether he would join Voldemort or not; pointless worrying, that didn’t solve anything, and could be focused upon at a later time.
“Well kiddo,” Sirius said with a smile, offering another hug, “if they let you escape the castle, come visit me instead.” Harry left after agreeing, and just as the doors to the hall closed behind him, Peeves floated into sight. Sirius smiled up at him, his hand clenching on the note that Lucius Malfoy had slipped him during the Quidditch match, hidden in his pocket, and reminding him exactly why the Ministry had let him come to Hogwarts. Malfoy had made them. Malfoy wanted something from him. It hadn’t been about seeing his godson for the first time since the boy was one.
Peeves attacked the Aurors, laughing and throwing things as the Wizards attempted to fight off the poltergeist, but Sirius knew from experience that the only two who could win against Peeves were Dumbledore or the Bloody Baron. Both would stay inside of the great hall until at least nine.
While the Aurors were distracted, Sirius ducked out of sight, escaping down the hallway towards Filch’s office. Harry wasn’t the only one with a Marauders Map, because after all they had made four of them, and Filch had confiscated three. Surely, one more must have remained unstolen by a curious student, Sirius thought as he ran. His plan depended on it, he told himself as he jiggled the doorknob and slipped inside.
And as he found what he was looking for, he unfolded the parchment and whispered, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
It was time to find Peter Pettigrew.
XXX
February 10th 1994.
It was their sixth anti-Dementor lesson, and the more Harry succeeded with the Patronus Charm the less the Boggart looked like a Dementor.
“It is your fear of them,” Remus whispered. “If you fear a Dementor, the Boggart will look like a Dementor. But now that you can fend one off, now that you can defend yourself and have no reason to fear a Dementor, the Boggart will change into something else you fear.” Remus clapped him on the back, looking like a proud parents as Harry’s Patronus pranced by his side. It was silvery white, shining faintly and pulsing with magic, and the gradually shifting Boggart was backing its way into its cupboard slowly. He would jump out again soon, and Harry wondered what it would look like. According to Remus it wouldn’t be a Dementor now that he had succeeded, but then Harry had never been afraid of the Dementors so why had the Boggart chosen that shape in the first place? Was there a way to force them to look like something in particular, Harry wondered.
The Patronus turned towards Harry, as if asking if there was still a reason for it to remain. Harry admired it for a moment, taking in the shape and size of it, its distinctive features, the antenna on its head that quivered as it waited and the patches of fur that seemed to be a deeper white than the rest of it. The Caterpillar disappeared as Harry waved his wand. From the way Remus had spoken about his father and their animagus forms, he had probably assumed that Harry’s Patronus would be a stag. But Evan, it appeared, had been right once more. Harry really was a caterpillar.
The Boggart leapt from the cupboard again. The Dementor stretched its arms out, its face covered but it wailed, sounding nothing like the real creatures did, and Harry raised his eyebrow at Remus Lupin.
“Uh,” the man said unintelligibly. “Well, perhaps you are more afraid than you thought?” Harry just continued to stare. Remus’ wand flicked behind his back, subtly but Harry still caught the movement. “Or perhaps you simply fear nothing but fear itself?”
“And fear itself fears nothing but Chuck Norris,” Harry drawled with a roll of his eyes. Remus had flicked his wand again, and the Boggart had shifted again, changing shape briefly before becoming a Dementor again. It was settled, Harry thought, as he picked up his bag. Remus had a way to make the Boggart take shape. He wondered briefly, what his true greatest fear was, though silently he thanked Remus for not allowing that fear to be known. Knowing Harry’s terrible luck, it would be his uncle, and wouldn’t that be suspicious.
“Did you hear about Sirius Black?” Remus called as Harry slipped out of the door. He was making an attempt to call Harry back for tea, and Harry was used to the efforts Remus went through to spend time with him by now that the boy merely called over his shoulder without waiting.
“I heard.” Though, honestly, he had no idea what Remus was talking about. One of his friends would know though.
“Apparently Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower!” Draco said excitedly.
“He ripped up the painting of the Fat Lady.” Theo added with a wide grin on his face.
“I don’t know,” Terrence said looking sceptical. “I heard that when the Aurors went looking for him, they found him waiting calmly by the Portkey. They can’t prove it was him.”
“The portrait said it was!”
“You’d believe a painting over a man that’s about to be freed from prison? Obviously Black won’t do anything to send himself back!” And so Theodore and Terrence began to argue, and Harry watched them, thinking of the school owl that had delivered him a blank piece of parchment the night Sirius had left the school. He had left it in his trunk, not thinking much of it other than that it might have been a hidden message from Lord Voldemort, and it had since slipped his mind. But now, now Harry wondered if perhaps it had been from Sirius instead?
He might have been wrong, but he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, there was more than one Marauders Map. Remus hadn’t said either way, but Harry had always assumed that they shared between the four of them. “I have to go! Not hungry!” Harry called, jumping up from the Slytherin table and jogging from the hall before anyone could stop him. He wanted to check his theory, and he wanted to see if Peter Pettigrew’s name appeared again. Who he was, Harry didn’t know, but he had left Gryffindor Tower two days before Sirius had broken in.
Something strange was going on.
XXX
February 12th 1994. Hogsmeade.
Sirius hadn’t been allowed to visit Hogwarts again. He had sent Harry a letter that morning, delivered by a Dementor who actually had the gall to float into the great hall and drop the note onto Harry’s breakfast. Hermione had finally let the issue of Remus maybe being a werewolf drop and so Harry had been having breakfast with her. Now, he was walking through Hogsmeade with her, because she was a Gryffindor, and he needed a favour.
“Hey Hermione,” Harry started, pausing to think back on what Sirius’ letter had said. They were short on evidence. They needed to find the man who had framed Sirius for murder to prove that Sirius hadn’t been the Secret keeper for the Potters’. No one seemed to care whether Sirius had or hadn’t killed those Muggles, no one seemed to want proof either way, but they did want to find someone called Peter Pettigrew. Peter had been a Marauder, his father’s friend, the Secret keeper who betrayed them to Voldemort.
Peter Pettigrew had been hiding in Gryffindor Tower as Ron’s pet rat. Harry had seen him slip into the Forbidden Forest on the map and thought nothing of it.
“Hey Hermione,” Harry started again. “Could you do me a favour? I’ve been sort of cruel to Ron, and I know that, and I feel really guilty about it. I was thinking of doing something nice for him, and I know he’s always going on about how much he hates Scabbers, so, well, Draco mentioned something about a Pet Spa in France and I was going to look into it. The only problem is I need to send photos and details about the pet, so I’d need to get hold of Scabbers. Only, I don’t want Ron to know yet, in case it doesn’t work out, so… could you, maybe, bring me Scabbers?” Harry didn’t think he had ever spoken so fast in his life. It was the most unrealistic excuse he had ever come out with, but it was better than the truth, and he knew he had to say it fast or he’d never be able to pull it off.
Hermione glanced at him, looking a little cautious and a little sad. For a moment Harry thought she might cry, but then she narrowed her eyes at him and frowned. “If you’re thinking of pranking Ron’s rat you might as well forget about it, Harry Potter!” She glared at him, and Harry knew she hadn’t believed him at all.
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t,” he insisted anyway.
“It doesn’t matter of course. Ron isn’t speaking to me right now, not that he ever was you understand, but well, Crookshanks, my cat, well he ate Ron’s rat. So whatever you were planning to do you might as well forget about it. There is no rat. Not now.” Now there really was tears in her eyes, but Harry didn’t acknowledge them because he didn’t think she’d appreciate it, and so he turned his face away looking a little upset himself until Hermione had composed herself.
“Butterbeer?” He asked, once she had stopped sniffling.
“Sure,” she had agreed, red eyes brightening as she wiped the tears from them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry thought as he followed her into the Three Broomsticks. Pettigrew hadn’t been eaten, but the map didn’t cover the forest so how the hell was he meant to find the traitorous rat?
Fuck.
XXX
April 3rd 1994. Forbidden Forest.
The Easter holidays were upon them. Most of the students had gone home for the two week break, but Harry didn’t have time this year to celebrate Ishtar1. He had spent the end of February scouring the Forest and the area surrounding Hogsmeade hoping to stumble upon Pettigrew, and at last he thought he might have finally been successful. He knew he wouldn’t be able to capture the Death Eater alone though, and so he had wrote to Lord Voldemort, requesting Evan’s aide.
“Hello, my son,” Evan breathed into his ear as he snuck up behind the boy. Harry turned in his arms, wrapping his own around Evan’s neck, and hugged him tightly. “I have missed you too, Caen.”
“Hello,” Harry whispered, pulling back and offering up a wide smile.
“We have work to do,” Evan said calmly, pulling out of the embrace completely. He kept his hand on Harry’s shoulder though, as the boy led him further into the forest and asked him to apparate them to Hogsmeade.
“There’s a cave just outside of the town. Some of the people living there told me that food and newspapers keep disappearing and that they can hear someone moving around near the cave. I checked, father, but no one lives nearby, there doesn’t appear to be any animal dens large enough to make that kind of attention drawing noise, and it’s not exactly a hospitable area.”
“So, either a dragon has hatched and is hiding in this cave, or the rat has gone back to his roots.”
“Well, if you spend too long in your animagus form you start to pick up the creature’s traits.” Harry offered a smile, “such as foraging, scurrying, hiding, squeaking, you know, all of those really annoying rat-habits.”
“Being a disgusting, worthless waste of flesh?” Evan offered, reaching out his arm. Harry clung to it, focusing on Evan and Evan alone, and then with the feeling of being squeezed through a tube, they both disappeared from the Forbidden Forest. They reappeared in front of a dank looking cave. Newspapers and food wrappers were scattered across the floor, there was a sock by the entrance, and the stink of urine filled the air. It was apparent that someone human really was living there.
“Well?” Harry asked.
“Well done, child. Let us gather our ‘evidence’ and leave.” Evan led the way into the cave.
“Are you going to cast the Dark Mark?” Harry asked curiously, listening for breathing other than their own. “Cause that might be cool.”
“No.” Evan told them, throwing him a sideways glance. Harry rolled his eyes, a little annoyed that Evan hadn’t just gone along with his joke, because at the mention of the Dark Mark someone deep within the cave had gasped.
“I’m sure our Lord would appreciate the gesture, Rosier,” Harry added, smirking widely at the suddenly stronger stench of piss that flooded the cave. Peter Pettigrew was scared.
And so he should be.
XXX
1 - Ishtar, the pagan name for Easter. It’s celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox, and is in honour of the ‘son’ of the Sun god, Baal, and Ishtar his mother who claimed that she was a goddess with the help of Satan the deceiver. Pig was to be eaten on the Sunday only, as the pig killed the son of god, Tammunz, but no other meat could be touched, and rabbits and eggs were used to celebrate as well. Random, I know.
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Thanks for reading. For those who don’t know, Through the Looking Glass has been added (though no one seems to like chapter 2 as much as chapter 1 hmm).
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Chapter 37
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