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| DADFOOT RETURNS |
song: back to the old house by the smiths
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ONE OF THE MOST ANNOYING THINGS ABOUT THE AFTERMATH of the second task for Ara was that everybody was very keen to hear details of what had happened down in the lake, she would try and give as little detail as possible, she would only say, "I saw black, then Harry came and I woke up." She could tell they were disappointed by the lack of information, but she couldn't go around telling the whole story.
"Was that necessary?" questioned Harry, amused, as a group of first years ran away from Ara after she told them that if they didn't stop asking questions, a giant squid would eat them.
"Of course it was! They're getting annoying," said Ara as she threw herself on the couch beside him, exhaling a breath.
"Ara, those are first years, you shouldn't—"
"I don't need a lecture," Ara cut off Hermione's scolding. "But if it satisfies you, I won't say a squid will eat them, I'll just say I'll throw them into the Black Lake myself."
Harry and Ron let out laughs, Hermione still looked disapproving, however, she didn't say anything else.
As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. The brown owl that Ara and Harry had sent to Sirius with the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend turned up at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers sticking up the wrong way; they had no sooner torn off Sirius's reply than it took flight, clearly afraid it was going to be sent outside again.
Sirius's letter was almost as short as the previous one.
Be at stile at the end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.
"He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" said Ron incredulously.
"It looks like it, doesn't it?" said Hermione.
"I can't believe him," said Harry tensely, "if he's caught . . ."
"He's a marauder," said Ara as if stating the obvious. "Sneaky things they were, he won't get caught."
Despite her careless words, Ara couldn't deny the slight anxiety she felt at the thought of her Dad being spotted anywhere near Hogsmade. Nevertheless, something inside her felt lighter at the fact that she would see him again, though as much as she'd like to enjoy her time with him without a care, she knew she needed to tell him about her suspicions regarding Atlas Auclair, whom she'd seen very little of lately, he was mostly with his classmates nowadays.
Feeling slightly more cheerful, she approached the final lesson of the afternoon — double Potions — dreading it a bit less than she usually did when descending the steps to the dungeons.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in a huddle outside the classroom door with Pansy Parkinson's gang of Slytherin girls. All of them were looking at something Ara couldn't see and sniggering heartily. Pansy's pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle's broad back as Ara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached.
"There they are, there they are!" she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. Ara saw that Pansy had a magazine in her hands — Witch Weekly. The moving picture on the front showed a curly-haired witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large sponge cake with her wand.
"You might find something to interest you in there, Black!" Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Ara, who caught it easily and threw Pansy a sneering look, wanting nothing more than to take out her wand and hex her into the next week. But at that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside.
Ara, Harry, Hermione, and Ron headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of today's potion on the blackboard, Ara hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the centre pages, Ara found what she was looking for. Harry, Hermione, and Ron leaned in closer. A colour photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled:
Harry Potter's Secret Heartache
A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Pure-Blood Ara Black. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.
Miss Black, a plain and overly fierce girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Fleur Delacour, French Veela and Tournament contestant, Miss Black has been toying with both of their affections. Delacour, expressed her affection at the second task, as she happily greeted the girl when she came back.
However, it might not be Miss Black's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate people's interest.
"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's not stupid. I think that's how she's doing it."
Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.
"We told you!" Ron hissed at Ara as she stared down at the article. "We told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of — of scarlet woman!"
"That horrible woman!" said Hermione, infuriated as she snatched the paper from Ara's hands and skimmed the pages.
Ara couldn't help but give a chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, "Please, If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," she said, covering her mouth with her hand to prevent herself from fully laughing, as Hermione threw Witch Weekly onto an empty chair. "I thought she was going to invent something more interesting, she's running out of ideas. . ."
"You're not worried?" Harry questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Of course not, I've had worse things said about me and it's not like anything she said is true anyway," shrugged Ara, unaware of how Harry's chest gave a little sting at her comment.
She looked over at the Slytherins, who were all watching her and Harry closely across the room to see if they had been upset by the article. Ara gave them a sarcastic smile and a finger wave, and she, Harry, Hermione, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion.
"There's something funny, though," said Ara ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles. "How could Rita Skeeter have known . . . ?"
"Known what?" said Ron quickly. "You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?"
"That'd just be plain wrong and besides, I don't think I'd ever need a love potion to charm anyone," Ara raised an eyebrow.
Harry couldn't disagree on that one.
"It's just . . . how did she know Fleur gave me a kiss? Of course, it didn't mean anything, but. . .Skeeter wasn't even at the task."
"Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task. . . ." suggested Hermione.
"Maybe," mumbled Ara, although she wasn't convinced.
"Or she has a spy in the school—"
"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Black," said an icy voice right behind them, and all four of them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them; Malfoy took the opportunity to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at Harry.
"Ah . . . reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor . . . oh but of course . . ." Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings. . . ."
The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. To Harry's fury, he began to read the article aloud.
" 'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache . . . dear, dear, Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps . . .' "
Both Ara and Harry could feel their faces burning. Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape.
" '. . . Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching," sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins.
"Didn't think you'd find a teenager's life so interesting, Professor," Ara mocked as she steered her potion, she could feel Hermione nudging her arm, telling her to keep quiet but she pointedly ignored her. "Maybe you should get one too y'know, seeing as you always have your nose where it doesn't concern you."
"Watch your tongue, Black," Snape sneered at her last name as if it were poison. "I think I had better separate the four of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Greengrass. Potter — that table in front of my desk. Black, beside Miss Parkinson. Move. Now."
"Do you want Parkinson to leave this class with a broken nose? Because that's exactly what will happen if I have her at arms reach."
Snape stared at her for a solid ten seconds before snapping, "Black, in front of my desk with Potter, if I hear speaking, it's detention. Move. Now."
Furious, Harry threw his ingredients and his bag into his cauldron and dragged it up to the front of the dungeon to the empty table, Ara a few steps behind him, silently fuming. Snape followed, sat down at his desk and watched Harry and Ara unload their cauldrons. Determined not to look at Snape, both resumed the mashing of their scarab beetles, imagining each one to have Snape's face.
"All this press attention seems to have inflated your already overly large head, Potter," said Snape quietly, once the rest of the class had settled down again.
Harry didn't answer, however, he looked over at Ara and noticed her trying not to make a comment as she bit the inside of her cheek. Snape was trying to provoke them; he had done this before. No doubt he was hoping for an excuse to take a round fifty points from Gryffindor before the end of the class.
"You might be labouring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you," Snape went on, so quietly that no one else could hear him (Ara and Harry continued to pound their scarab beetles), "but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."
Harry saw Ara about to open her mouth but refrained from doing so as he grabbed her hand and gave it a light squeeze, it was a form of telling her to ignore it. She gave him a sideglance before returning the squeeze and letting go so she could start cutting up her ginger roots, doing it with more force than necessary.
"I give you fair warning, Potter, Black," Snape continued in a softer and more dangerous voice, "if I catch you two breaking into my office one more time —"
"We haven't been anywhere near your office!" said Harry angrily, forgetting his feigned deafness, it was manageable when Snape only jeered him but he wouldn't let him drag Ara into his taunts as well.
"Don't lie to me," Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry's as Ara's fingers tightened around her knife. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them."
"Oh, really?" Ara snarked back at him, her tone clearly sarcastic. "Do tell, do you have any evidence? Proof perhaps?" When Snape didn't say anything she gave a jerk of her head. "Didn't think so."
Ara and Harry stared back at Snape, determined not to blink or to look guilty. In truth, they hadn't stolen either of these things from Snape. Ara and Hermione had taken the boomslang skin back in their second year — they had needed it for the Polyjuice Potion — and while Snape had suspected Harry and Ara at the time, he had never been able to prove it. Dobby, of course, had stolen the gillyweed.
"You two were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!" Snape hissed. "I know it, Potter! Black! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, Potter, but I will not tolerate your behaviour! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, Black, and you will both pay!"
"Right," said Harry coolly, turning back to his ginger roots. "We'll bear that in mind if we ever get the urge to go in there."
Snape's eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes. For one wild moment, Ara thought Snape was about to pull out his wand and curse Harry, so she did the same thing as she reached a hand inside her robes just in case — then they saw that Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. Ara and Harry stared at it.
"Do you know what this is, Potter? Black?" Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again.
"No," said Harry, with complete honesty this time.
"Bubble Juice?" Ara asked with fake innocence as her hand fell from the inside of her robes.
"It is Veritaserum — a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," said Snape viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips" — he shook the crystal bottle slightly — "right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then, Potter, Black . . . then we'll find out whether you've both been in my office or not."
Ara shrugged, feigning indifference as she and Harry stayed silent. Truth be told, while this was most likely an empty threat, it'd be extremely dangerous if Snape carried on with his words and slipped them some. Ara didn't want to know what would happen if Snape found out about her Dad, her weird dreams, Atlas Auclair and their weird shared magic or even her headaches. It'd be a disaster. She could tell Harry's head was swirling with similar thoughts by the shakiness in his hands as he carried on cutting as well as his clenched jaw.
There was a knock on the dungeon door.
"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice.
The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.
"We need to talk," said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist. Ara and Harry kept their eyes on their work, listening hard.
"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.
"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."
Ara had to refrain from making a comment, they sounded like divorced parents.
"After the lesson," Snape snapped.
Under the pretext of holding up a measuring cup to see if he'd poured out enough armadillo bile, Ara and Harry sneaked a sidelong glance at the pair of them. Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry.
Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Harry deliberately knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron (pulling Ara along with him) and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door.
"What's so urgent?" he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.
"This," said Karkaroff, and Ara, peering around the edge of her cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm, she looked towards Harry and he gave her a look, which meant he saw the movement too.
I knew it, Ara gave herself a mental high-five. Even though she didn't technically see the Dark Mark, she just knew it was there.
"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since —"
"Put it away!" snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom.
"But you must have noticed —" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.
"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" spat Snape. "Potter, Black! What are you two doing?"
"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," said Harry innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the sodden rag he was holding.
Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. Not wanting to remain alone with an exceptionally angry Snape, Ara and Harry threw their books and ingredients back into their bag and left at top speed to tell Ron and Hermione what they had just witnessed.
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THEY LEFT THE CASTLE AT NOON THE NEXT DAY to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all four of them had taken off their cloaks and thrown them over their shoulders. The food Sirius had told them to bring was in Harry's bag; they had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.
They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Then, at half past one, they made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village.
Ara had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar. . . .
"Hello, Sirius," said Harry when they had reached him.
"Hi, dadfoot." Ara smiled widely, feeling happiness overtake her as she gave his head a small pat. The dog barked happily at her as his tail subconsciously moved from side to side at the sight of her.
Then he sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged its tail once more, then turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. Ara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed over the stile and followed.
Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but Ara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were soon out of breath.
Tired of climbing with only two legs, Ara asked Ron if he could hold her cloak—which he did after a roll of his eyes—and transformed into her Animagus form, catching up to Snuffles and trotting beside him.
They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, as the wolf and the dog pushed each other along the way, playfully rolling around and chasing each other. Sirius's wagging tail never stopped.
Even though he was sweating in the sun, and the shoulder straps of his bag were cutting into his shoulders, Harry couldn't help but grin as he watched Ara and Sirius interact. He was sure that if wolves could smile, Ara would be doing that right now. Her happiness was contagious.
Then, at last, they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave, Ara transformed back into her human self and looked around. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half grey horse, half-giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of them. All of them bowed low to him, and after regarding them imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck.
Sirius, who had changed back to human, was wearing ragged grey robes; the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been when he had appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted once more. He looked very thin.
"Hello, little wolf," Sirius smiled tenderly at his daughter after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them down onto the cave floor.
"Dad, I'd hug you—but y'know, fleas," Ara joked, making Sirius bark out a laugh.
Harry then pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread.
"Thanks," said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."
He grinned up at Harry, but Harry returned the grin only reluctantly. "What're you doing here, Sirius?" he said.
"Fulfilling my duty as a Dad and a godfather," said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."
He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harry's face and Ara's slightly uncertain expression, said more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter . . . well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."
He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them.
"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?" Harry said.
"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg.
Ron nudged Ara and passed her the Daily Prophets, as Harry read over her shoulder. There were two: The first bore the headline Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, Ministry Witch Still Missing — Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.
Ara scanned the story about Crouch. Phrases jumped out at her: hasn't been seen in public since November . . . house appears deserted . . . St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment . . . Ministry refuses to confirm rumours of critical illness. . . .
"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here. . . ."
"Our brother, Percy, is Crouch's personal assistant," Ara said, lowering the papers.
"Yeah, and he says Crouch is suffering from overwork," Ron added.
"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry slowly, still reading the story. "The night my name came out of the goblet. . . ."
"I don't think it's overwork though," Ara sighed as she bit her lip in thought. "Work doesn't do that to you, it sounds like he's on his deathbed,"
"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, an edge to her voice. She was stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius's chicken bones. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."
"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron muttered to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. Sirius, however, looked interested.
"Crouch sacked his house-elf?"
"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry, and they launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, how they accused Ara of conjuring it, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When they had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave.
"Let me get this straight," he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"
"Right," said Ara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione together.
"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"
"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy."
Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"
"Erm . . ." Harry thought hard. "No," he said finally. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars." He stared at Sirius. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"
"It's possible," said Sirius.
"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insisted.
"Hermione, it could be true, even if an elf doesn't have bad intentions they will do anything their masters request them to do," said Ara calmly.
"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," said Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace. "Who else was sitting behind you?"
"Loads of people," said Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers . . .Cornelius Fudge . . . the Malfoys . . ."
"The Malfoys!" said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"
"Anyone else?" said Sirius.
"No one," said Harry.
"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Ara reminded him. "But I don't think it was him."
"Oh yeah . . ."
"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius, still pacing. "What's he like?"
"He's okay," said Harry at the same time Ara said, "he's an idiot."
He gave her a look, and she merely shrugged.
"He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament." said Harry.
"Does he, now?" said Sirius, frowning more deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"
"Says he's taken a liking to me," said Harry.
"I don't think it's because of that—not that you're not likeable of course," Ara added quickly when she saw his offended look. "There must be a bigger reason, I've noticed he's a bit of a gambler, maybe he has money on you."
"Hmm," said Sirius, looking thoughtful. "Yes. . .that could be a solid reason. . ."
"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione told Sirius. "Remember?" she said to Ara, Harry, and Ron.
"Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" said Ron. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."
"How d'you know?" Hermione shot back. "How d'you know where he Disapparated to?"
"Come off it," said Ron incredulously. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"
"It's more likely he did it than Winky," said Hermione stubbornly.
"Told you," said Ron, looking meaningfully at Sirius, "told you she's obsessed with house —"
But Sirius held up a hand to silence Ron.
"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"
"Went to look in the bushes," said Harry, "but there wasn't anyone else there."
"Of course," Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, "of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf . . . and then he sacked her?"
"Yes," said Hermione in a heated voice, "he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled —"
"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!" said Ron.
Sirius shook his head and said, "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."
He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard.
"All these absences of Barty Crouch's . . . he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too. . . . It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."
"D'you know Crouch, then?" said Harry.
Sirius's and Ara's faces darkened. Sirius suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when they'd first met him.
"Oh, he knows Crouch all right," Ara said quietly.
"He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial," said Sirius darkly.
"What?" said Ron and Hermione together.
"You're kidding!" said Harry.
"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads while Ara nodded.
"I knew you'd know," he said to his daughter before looking at them all. "He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," said Sirius. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical — and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the look on Harry's face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side . . . well, you wouldn't understand . . . you're too young. . . ."
"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us, why don't you?"
A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face.
"All right, I'll try you. . . ." He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing . . . the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere . . .panic . . . confusion . . . that's how it used to be.
"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers — powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorised the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you —plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened. . . ." Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."
"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione.
"Yep," said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, he took a small piece of the bread and threw it at Ara's face, she picked it up and hastily did the same to him. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while . . .gotten to know his own son."
He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.
"Was his son a Death Eater?" said Ara.
"No idea," said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."
"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.
Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark.
"Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy . . . then he sent him straight to Azkaban."
"He gave his own son to the dementors?" asked Harry quietly.
"That's right," said Sirius, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though . . . they all went quiet in the end . . . except when they shrieked in their sleep. . . ."
For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.
"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry said.
"No," said Sirius dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."
"He died?"
"How did he die?" asked Ara.
"I don't know exactly, but he wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterwards. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."
Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.
"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic . . . next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonoured, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
There was a long silence. Harry was thinking of the way Crouch's eyes had bulged as he'd looked down at his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry.
"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius.
"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," said Sirius, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."
"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione.
"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," said Sirius.
"Yeah, it does!" said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.
"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."
"So you think Snivellus could be up to something, then?" said Ara, but Hermione broke in.
"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape —"
"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him —"
"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"
"I dunno — maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out —"
"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said loudly, and Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen.
"I think they've both got a point," said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added, and Ara, Harry, and Ron grinned at each other. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."
Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.
"Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they're a married couple —they're in Azkaban. Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."
"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron.
"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" said Harry quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but we couldn't see what it was."
"He showed Snape something on his arm?" said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. "Well, I've no idea what that's about . . . but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers . . ."
"Snape's a death eater!" said Ara exasperatedly as she threw her hands up. "It's obvious, why else would Karkaroff be showing something on his arm to him? I don't think it's a love confession."
Sirius stared at his daughter, thinking, then he turned to the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.
"Could be possible, but there's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."
"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" said Ron stubbornly, slightly siding with his sister.
"Well," said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defence Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though . . . he's a different matter . . . is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not . . . what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"
Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ara and Ron.
"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"
"WE can try," said Ron doubtfully as he and Ara shared a look. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."
"Bloody in love with him he is," said Ara under her breath.
"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.
"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic . . . maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long. . . ."
Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.
"What's the time?"
Harry checked his watch, and, subconsciously, a smile grew on his face as he looked down at it.
"It's half past three," said Harry.
"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen . . ." He looked particularly hard at Ara and Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."
"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but Sirius scowled at him.
"And why would I be in danger?" said Ara, Sirius looked at her as if he wanted to say something but refrained himself from doing so.
"Look, just do it, please . . . I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"
He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," said Sirius, "see if I can scrounge another paper."
But Ara, who suddenly remembered why she'd been particularly excited about this reunion, stopped in her tracks on the way outside and rapidly turned around, holding up a hand, "Wait, Dad, can we talk for a moment? It's quite important."
"Of course," Sirius nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.
"We'll leave you two," said Harry as he gave Ara a nod and he, Ron and Hermione headed outside.
Ara sighed, looking back at her Dad as he sat down, she twirled her ring as a habit, "So, there's this boy from Beauxbatons—"
"If this is you telling me you have a boyfriend I don't want to hear it," said Sirius, looking pained, "no, actually, tell me so I can tell you you're not allowed–"
Ara snorted, cutting him off, "No, no boyfriends for me, don't worry."
"Oh, thank Merlin," Sirius paced a hand over his heart.
Ara shook her head and rolled her eyes before turning serious once more, "This boy. . .he's very unnerving in a familiar way, I don't know how to explain it but I can just feel he's something of mine. Listen, I did research on his family and he looks nothing like them, they're all blonde with warm eyes and he'd well—he'd basically you if you were young, he has grey eyes, black hair, and a character that's just too similar to—"
"A Black?" Sirius questioned.
"Yes, and I know similar features is not enough to say he's part of our bloodline, but there's too many similarities, too many connections that I can't overlook."
"And I don't know if you know anything about the Auclairs, but supposedly they're purebloods and highly respected in France, I don't know how Atlas could've ended up there—"
"Excuse me," Sirius' voice turned so dark that Ara refrained from the urge to jump in surprise, she saw her Dad rise from his seat, looking horror-struck, all colour had drained from his face. "What did you say his name was?"
Ara blinked, "Atlas, Atlas Auclair."
"How old is he?" questioned Sirius. He look haunted, as if the dementors had succeeded in sucking his soul out. He was trembling from head to toe, barely keeping his balance.
"He-he just turned seventeen in November—" Ara urgently reached forward when she saw her Dad stagger backwards and she helped him sit down on the ground as his breathing turned rapid, his eyes turning misty as he continually repeated the same words, 'it can't be him, it can't be, I saw him that night. . .'
"Dad," Ara stressed, shaking him, her eyes wide in panic as she tried to get him out of his head. She'd never seen him like this, not even that night back in third year. He was crumbling under the weight and the realisation of something Ara didn't understand. "Dad—What is it?"
"Ara—" Sirius grabbed the sides of her head and looked seriously into her eyes as if begging her for answers to a question he hadn't even asked, "Are you sure his name is Atlas?"
Ara nodded and her Dad's hands fell from her face only to be raised again to cover his eyes as a dry sob left his mouth. Ara's lips parted at te scene before her, her Dad on his knees, hands over his face as he cried in despair. Not caring about the smell or dirt, Ara kneeled beside him and hugged him, feeling his body shake. Suddenly, this wasn't a grown man crying against her, but a heartbroken young father.
"Dad, I need you to tell me what's wrong," Ara said shakily as her own eyes turned damp. She'd never seen her Dad cry before, she'd never heard him so devastated.
After several seconds, Sirius managed to calm down enough for Ara to let go of him, though she didn't move from her place on the floor as she sat back on her heels.
Sirius ran a hand through his face, unsuccessfully drying his tears, "I never told you this, mainly because we never had the time and this wasn't something one could write in a letter. Secondly, because speaking about it tears at my heart. You. . .you weren't Ava's and I's firstborn, Ara. . ."
Ara's eyebrows furrowed, her heartbeat increasing.
"Your Mum and I. . .we were young and a bit irresponsible, she got pregnant while we were still finishing school, it was out last year. . .we were terrified, obviously but we kept him," A watery smile appeared on Sirius's face, mixing in with his tears. "As the months passed we grew more excited, but. . .the day of the labor there were some complications and—"
He glanced down and Ara placed a hand on his shoulders, she was burning to ask questions but she held her tongue, knowing she needed to let him finish first.
"—And. . .he d-died, the baby, there was nothing the healers could do, your Mum. . .I'll never forget her face that night, nor her cries for our son. . .I can't remember much after that, the night's blurry, I suppose it's a way of my brain to cope. To forget. That day haunts me still, the deathly silence after he was delivered. . ."
"And. . .his name was. . ." Ara trailed off, breathing rapidly.
"Atlas." Sirius breathed out, his tear-stained cheeks still as white as a ghost.
Ara released a breath of shock as she blinked rapidly, raising a hand and running it through her hair, "And. . . do you think he could be the same Atlas?"
Sirius shook his head in denial, his voice tense, "he died, I saw him, I held his small body in my own hands—"
"But you said the night was foggy! You said you don't remember much!" Ara exclaimed, her jaw clenched.
"No, the healer, Antoinette, she performed all the checkups, she declared him dead and she was a really respected healer at the time—"
"What—what did you say her name was?" Ara stuttered, her heart jumping.
"Antoinette, Antoinette Martin if I recall correctly,"
Ara gave a disbelieving laugh, palming her chest in order to calm her erratic beating, feeling as if her heart might burst, "Dad. . .Atlas told me his Mum's name was Antoinette Martin, she'd kept her maiden name even after marriage—Dad! They—they must've taken him, I-I don't know why but he could be it! Dad, he could be your son!"
"I saw the body, Ara, I held it—"
"Dad, witches and wizards can tamper with other's minds, make them see something that's not there with a wave of their wand," Ara grasped his shoulder tightly, wanting him to open his eyes to the possible truth. "They tricked you, they tricked Mum, they made you two believe he was dead."
"I don't understand. . .Ava and I kept the pregnancy a secret, only our closest friends knew and Pettigrew wasn't a spy at that time, it was impossible for anyone to know he'd existed—"
"Why would they want to take him?"
"There are things that are complicated, Ara, family matters regarding your mother's side that are too dangerous to talk about and too long to explain right now but I promise I'll tell you as soon as I can."
Ara pushed her lips together, she refrained from being herself and splurting out questions. Her dad wasn't in a state to be telling stories.
"You have a son—" Ara watery laugh escaped her lips, "I have a brother, well, another one,"
Her joke was successful and she managed to get a chuckle out of her Dad, "I don't want to raise my hopes at something that only ten minutes ago seemed impossible but, we need to gather more proof, investigate a bit more before making declarations. I can't believe he. . .he might be alive. . ." He frowned, "I wish Ava were here to hear it."
"Me too," Ara mumbled before taking a big breath, "We'll prove it Dad, we'll prove he's Atlas Black."
"Ria! Are we going or what?" came Ron's voice from outside.
Ara sighed, and she and Sirius rose from the floor.
"We'll talk in our letters, okay?" said her Dad, saddened by the fact that they had such little time.
"I'll keep you updated," Ara nodded, giving his hands one final squeeze. She felt as if she was in a state of shock, feeling airy by the amount of information she'd just discovered.
Sirius transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Ara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.
Ara felt as if she was on autopilot the entire way back. She wasn't sure how her brain hadn't exploited the information shock she'd received. She'd always thought Atlas had something to do with her family, but she hadn't expected him to be her brother. If she confirmed him to be what she and her Dad thought he was, how could she ever break the news to him? How would he react to the fact that he'd been lied to by the people he thought loved him his entire life?
"You okay?" came Harry's voice from beside her and she finally snapped out of her daydreaming.
"Yeah, just thinking about stuff. . ." she gave an unconvincing smile.
Harry noticed that she really didn't want to talk about it so didn't pry any further, instead he just grabbed her hand in his to stop her from fidgeting with her rings. It's funny, how holding Harry's hand made Ara feel as if she could fly, it was a strange feeling really, one she didn't understand.
"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?" Ron said as they walked up the drive to the castle. "But maybe he doesn't care . . . it'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son."
"Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors," said Hermione severely.
"I don't know," said Ron. "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career . . . Percy's really ambitious, you know. . . ."
They walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward them from the Great Hall.
"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron, breathing deeply. "Imagine having to live off rats."
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾
Louis Patridge as Atlas Black
HEYYYYYYYYY
How are you guys? I hope all good!
So the truth is out! Let me know what you think of the chapter!!!
I felt so bad for Sirius while I was writing this 😭
qotd: is your family complicated? YES, extremely.
Remember to COMMENT and VOTE!!! It helps with motivations darlings ;)
Ily! See you soon! <3