Chapter Image by the incredible Visenya at The Dark Arts
Chapter Song: Somewhere Over The Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole/Judy Garland
***
Chapter Two
Harry's eyes flew open. His heart was racing as he scanned the near total darkness, shaking off the deep sleep he'd jerked himself out of so suddenly. His hands gripped at the bed covers, his feet tangled lower in the bed against the material damp from his sweat.
As he breathed in and out, he began to calm, the familiarity of the scene slowly coming back to him. It was so dark because the curtains around his four poster bed were drawn, and, after he'd retrieved his glasses, a glance at his alarm clock told him it was too early for sunrise just yet.
It was a dream, he told himself, only a dream. Though what that dream might have been he had no idea. The details had already trickled away from him, and all he had left was an unpleasant sort of tension tugging at his guts. He exhaled definitively, trying to slow his heart rate as he rubbed his forehead and blinked perspiration from his prickly eyes.
He was no stranger to troublesome dreams, the life he'd had, the things he'd seen. Sometimes they were ugly memories resurfacing, sometimes anxieties of future scenarios manifesting themselves in his subconscious. But as he squirmed free of his bed sheets, he found he couldn't recall a single detail of last night's events.
He yawned and stretched, deciding it probably didn't matter if he remembered the dream or not. He was wide awake now, and although his alarm wasn't due to go off for another half an hour he chose to click the button and get up now instead.
The stone floor was so cold in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, but after over four years Harry was used to it, especially as they were getting into winter now. He still had to stifle a hiss as he swung his bare feet out and tapped them gingerly onto the floor.
Grabbing his wash kit, he poked his head out to see that the other boys' curtains were still drawn with no movement behind, so he dashed from his bed to their shared bathroom, and hopped from foot to foot as he brushed his teeth quietly.
As he scrubbed, he tried again to remember the dream that had woken him so harshly. He'd already tried telling himself it didn't matter, but his brain was scratching away at the problem like an itch. He rinsed his mouth with water then splashed some on his face, studying his reflection as he patted his skin dry. His lightning bolt scar looked just the same as ever, but he touched it all the same, concentrating to see if it hurt any more than usual. He felt nothing though, going some way to convince him the nightmare hadn't been anything to do with Voldemort, but the uneasiness still sloshed in his stomach.
He was halfway tempted to go back into the bedroom and wake up Ron to ask his advice, but he knew it would only put him in a bad mood, and Harry was better off waiting an hour or so until his best friend had surfaced properly. So instead he snuck back into the dorm, pulled on the first jeans and jumper his hands found in the dim light, yanked them on with a pair socks that probably didn't match, followed by his well worn trainers. Wrapping a scarf around his neck for good measure, he pocketed his wand and crept across to the door, slipping out into the corridor without waking any of the other four boys.
He thought maybe Hermione might be up in the common room, cramming in some extra homework. Since they'd started their Fifth Year she'd been obsessing over their O.W.L.s, despite Harry and Ron's repeated reminders that they were not until next summer. But if she was up early as well, she was not in the Gryffindor common room. In fact, Harry could see quite clearly as he arrived down the stairs that no one was, and the fire was only flickering low, the embers still dying down from the night before.
He checked his watch. It was still before curfew, but only slightly, so he decided to risk it without going back up for his invisibility cloak and ventured out into the main body of the school.
The portrait of the Fat Lady yawned. "Oh goodness me," she murmured. "What time is it?"
"Just before seven," whispered Harry kindly. "Go back to sleep."
The Fat Lady muttered something about pineapples and snuggled down against her frame as Harry clicked it carefully shut. With any luck he wouldn't run into anyone else, or if he did they would be as easy to encourage back to sleep. It was a Friday and he didn't fancy starting off the weekend in detention.
He thought about seeing if Hermione was in the library, but figured he would probably see her at breakfast anyway, so turned the other way and headed towards the owlery, careful not to tread too loudly and keeping his wand unlit so as not to attract attention.
He always got a fluttering sensation of apprehension when he thought about messaging his godfather Sirius Black, and every time he had done over the past year he had almost talked himself out of it. But having Sirius was like what he'd imagined having a family might be like, if that family was a wrongly accused murderer on the run from the ministry, living on the outskirts of Hogsmeade in a dank cave with a hippogriff. Harry pulled a face as he slipped down a hidden passageway, and figured there was probably no one else in the world that had a family like that, but all he had to compare it to was a lifetime with the Dursleys. Being related to flesh-eating slugs would probably be a step up from Harry's aunt, uncle and cousin though, so he was quite happy to have Sirius any way that he came.
He knew dropping him a note put him in a small amount of danger, but everything Sirius did came with the risk of being caught Harry argued with himself. And the sick feeling in his stomach from the dream wasn't going away, so he figured just a quick chat would possibly help. Besides, Sirius was always delighted to hear from him.
It didn't take long to ascend to the tower where all the students' owls were housed, and as it was so early most of them were still awake, hooting softly and ruffling their feathers. Harry couldn't help but creak the old door as he moved inside, but he hoped there was no one close enough to hear him. "Hedwig," he said gently to the parliament of perched birds, stepping carefully around the droppings over to where an old desk stood with a stack of parchment, quill and well of ink. Within a moment his faithful pet owl had hopped off her stand and taken to the air, flying past the other hundreds of birds to come rest on his shoulder.
He only took a minute or two to pen his short message. "Dear Padfoot," he began, using Sirius' nickname in case the note got intercepted. "Had a funny dream, just wanted to check you were okay. H." Hedwig stuck out her foot obediently for Harry to tie the strip of parchment too, and she flew out the window within seconds.
Harry felt better for even just writing the note, and headed out of the cold owlery to slowly wander down to the Great Hall. It wasn't long until breakfast would appear, and after being awake and shivering for almost an hour he was looking forward to some hot tea and toast. Sirius would probably rip it out of him for being a wuss and sending that silly note, but Harry didn't care. In fact the thought made him smile.
The hall was a under half full when Harry arrived, but he wasn't that surprised to see Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, a space between them saved for him.
"Hey!" said Ron through a mouthful of eggs. "I was starting to think you'd been kidnapped by trolls!" He swallowed and grinned as Harry sat down.
"And I can see you mounted a search mission immediately," he said dryly, making Ron laugh. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"The Fat Lady said you'd already gone out." She reached under the table and pulled up a familiar bag to plonk in Harry's lap. "I made the boys go back and get your things."
Harry smiled at her. "Thanks," he said, leafing through to see Hermione had obviously instructed them what books to put inside as well. He was half touched, half exasperated that she knew his timetable better even than he did.
"So where were you?" asked Seamus Finnigan from across the table to their right.
Dean Thomas sniggered. "Yeah, how were the trolls?"
Ron made a rude gesture with his fingers and Harry smirked as he reached over and helped himself to fresh toast, crispy bacon and scrambled eggs, the nausea from his dream forgotten.
"So?" pressed Hermione. "Where were you?"
"Went for a walk," said Harry, not looking up. "Woke up early, couldn't get back to sleep."
He'd hoped Hermione would drop it, but she just leant in to whisper, which obviously made the boys give them the eye. "Was it something to do with..." She dropped her voice even further. "You-Know-Who?"
Harry glared at her, but she matched him. "No," he said eventually. It was the truth after all. But her words still brought up the usual fury and helplessness he always felt when he considered that Voldemort was out there, that he'd seen him come back with his own eyes, and yet no one would believe him. And then there was that Umbridge woman...
His expression must have darkened, because Hermione said "Ooh, post!" a little too cheerfully. Harry wasn't expecting anything, so he was surprised to see Hedwig to come flying in with the other owls, landing on his shoulder and extending her leg triumphantly.
Hermione spotted the note midway through shaking open her Daily Prophet, and opened her mouth to say something, but clamped it shut again. Perhaps she was weary of Harry after her Voldemort question. Whatever the case, Ron jumped in for her anyway.
"What's that mate?" he asked, and had the unusual good sense to keep his voice down. Luckily, Dean was informing Seamus and Neville Longbottom of the football scores he was reading from the back of a Muggle newspaper, and the other two boys would probably have gotten smacked with it if they'd stopped paying attention.
Harry unravelled the message in one hand, and fed Hedwig a corner of toast with the other. "It's from Padfoot," he said, genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected a reply so quickly.
"What does it say?" asked Hermione.
"He wants to have a quick chat, at lunchtime, the usual spot." He quickly explained how his bad dream had spooked him, so when he'd left earlier he'd written to his godfather. He wondered now if that was such a good idea. He hadn't expected Sirius to respond with a meeting, just a note to tell him off for being a pillock.
"Do you think everything's okay?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah," said Ron dismissively. "He probably just wants to chat, like Harry said."
They finished their breakfast not long after the post arrived, and gathered up their things to head to their first lesson. "Hey," said Harry, hanging back a step with Hermione. "I'm sorry I got ratty."
She waved her hand before he could say anything more though. "We're all worried about him," she said. "Don't give it another thought."
They split up for the first half of the morning, but came back together for History of Magic. By this time Harry's early start and large breakfast was getting to him, and he had to rely on Ron to jab his thigh with his quill every time he started nodding off. Professor Binns droned on regardless, but at least this way Hermione wouldn't make him go all through it again later.
"So, where are you going to find a fireplace?" asked Hermione quietly as they moved out from the classroom, voices in a loud hub as people made their way to the last lunch before being freed for the whole weekend. Harry shrugged and looked around.
"Oh, there's an old History classroom near here," he said, looking around. He knew this, because their old teacher and friend Remus Lupin had tutored him against Dementors there. It was for that same reason Harry always avoided going back. But most other people didn't like going there because Peeves the Poltergeist had a habit of hanging around and writing rude words on the board, so it was almost certain to be empty. "I'm sure I won't be long."
Hermione and Ron nodded at him. "See you in a minute then," said Ron.
Harry was able to hang back easy enough as the rest of the students dispersed, their minds on their food and not on his lurking. Then it was a simple case of doubling back and finding the right room.
It was locked, but a quick "Alohomora" soon fixed that. Peeves had indeed been here recently from the looks of the fresh chalk scrawled across the blackboard, but mercifully he wasn't there now. Harry didn't really feel like chasing him out, least he told a member of staff that he was hanging around where he shouldn't be.
He closed the door and looked around in the dim November light. The weather was gloomy outside, but he could still see all the desks and chairs stacked up against the walls. The fireplace was all but hidden by the furniture, and Harry only bothered to move away a couple of bits before giving up and just crawling under the tables. He'd already made sure earlier in the day that he had some of the silver Floo powder to render the flames green and harmless, as well as enable their communication. Harry spoke the location of the house Sirius had used the last few times for their chats. It belonged to a wizard who worked long hours and wasn't likely to come home and find Sirius sat on his kitchen floor. Plus, he had a dog flap.
But Harry still felt nervous as he poked his head in, far worse than he had done at the owlery. If anything went wrong and the wizard was there, they'd agreed he had to play it cool and get out again before he spotted his scar and reported him to Dumbledore. But once he opened his eyes, Harry was able to see he had nothing to worry about.
Sirius Black was sat under a ragged looking blanket, twigs in his dark, matted hair. He however did not notice Harry's appearance right away, as he was too engrossed with tickling the belly of a large, brown Newfoundland. "Who's a good boy!" cooed the grown man with enthusiasm as the bear-like dog wriggled and lolled his pink tongue from the corner of his drooping mouth, giving him the impression he was laughing. "Yes you are, yes you are!"
Harry sniggered, causing the coals to fidget and the big dog suddenly righted himself in one fluid motion, and barked loud and deep.
Sirius also jumped guiltily, but soon relaxed when he saw it was only Harry that had disturbed him and his canine friend. "Shh Theodore," he said, stroking the animal. "It's alright, you big lump." He grinned at Harry; he looked tired but there was distinct happiness in his eyes. "Hey mate," he said to him, shooing off the big dog, who obligingly lumbered away to a tattered looking basket and began chewing on a bit of hyde that once might have resembled a shoe.
Harry knew he was at least a dozen miles away, but he couldn't help feel closer when he was right there in front of his nose. "You alright?" he asked.
"Me?" said Sirius. "Fine, of course, how about you?" He didn't look fine, in fact he looked hungry and dirty.
Harry had learned a little while back from the Weasleys that Sirius had a family home in London, and that Dumbledore had tried to persuade him to move back there for his own safety. But Sirius had refused apparently, choosing to remain on the run. Harry wasn't entirely sure why, and the only information Ron's dad had been able to offer was that the Blacks were such a vile family, so maybe Sirius preferred his cave and Beaky the hippogriff to his childhood home.
Harry tried not to let any of his concern show on his face. "Yeah," he said, shrugging as much as he could with half his body in a fireplace. "Fine, sorry to trouble you."
"Your dream," said Sirius, raising an eyebrow. "Was it about-"
"No," said Harry cutting him off. "At least I don't think so. I don't remember it, I just had this bad feeling in my gut when I woke up."
Sirius went to reply, but suddenly snapped his head up instead.
"What's-" Harry started to say, but Sirius silenced him, grabbing his wand from where his doggy self had dropped it to the floor, and got to his feet.
"Harry you should go," said his godfather. But Harry wasn't having any of that.
"No," he said, wiggling in the fire. "I'm coming through, I can help."
Sirius held a stern finger up to him. "It's nothing," he insisted. "Probably just a cat. Someone might notice if you come all the way through the Floo Network." Harry tried to protest, but Sirius shook his head. "I'm fine, I'll just transform, go," he said.
Harry didn't want to leave, but Sirius had his stubborn face on. "Okay," he said. "But be careful, and send me a message later."
Sirius winked at him. "Will do kiddo."
Harry retracted his head from the green flames, and was back in the empty History of Magic classroom once more. He sat there for a minute, feeling guilty and wretched. He shouldn't have left him - what was that noise he'd heard?
Was he really in trouble?
He almost went back into the flames, but he reminded himself of Sirius' warning . He didn't know what he would be sticking his head back in to, and he might do more harm than good.
So, not feeling particularly good about it, he crawled awkwardly back out from under the table, extinguishing the flames as they turned back to orange and red. He picked up his satchel, moved the couple of chairs he'd repositioned back to where he'd found them, then exited the old classroom, careful to lock the door again just like he'd found it.
Hermione had saved him some shepherd's pie, as by the time he got back down to the Great Hall they were already on dessert. But he just poked at it listlessly. "Everything okay?" she asked tentatively. Harry swallowed.
"Yeah I'm sure it's fine," he said, hoping his voice sounded more convincing than he felt. "You know how careful he has to be. We just had to cut the conversation a little short."
Ron wanted to know every detail about the noise that had distracted Sirius, but the truth was Harry hadn't even heard it.
Hermione flicked her hair behind her shoulders. "I'm sure he was right," she said, making sure not to mention any names. "It was probably nothing and he'll drop you a line later. Come on, otherwise we'll be late for Charms."
Harry let himself be guided through the rest of the day's lessons. He wasn't paying attention at all to Professor Flitwick and got himself embarrassed when he was caught out and couldn't answer a question when asked. But try as he might he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened to his godfather.
Hermione almost lost her temper with him in Potions when he spoiled their brew, but she bit her tongue and he apologised again and again. "It's fine," she said, clearing up the ruined project with a flick of her wand whilst Professor Snape glared at them. "We'll just start again, no problem."
Harry nodded, trying to snap out of his funk. "He's fine," he breathed to himself, but Hermione still replied.
"I'm sure he is," she said with conviction.
Harry was relieved when they were finally let out at the end of the day, and instead of heading to dinner with everyone else made his excuses. He wanted to check his room in case Hedwig had left him a note from Sirius there, and until he knew everything was okay he didn't think he could eat anything anyway.
But his room was empty. Nothing to indicate he had a message waiting for him, so Harry traipsed dejectedly back through the empty common room and headed back to the owlery. Hedwig was on her usual perch, nothing attached to her legs, and Harry had to accept Sirius had not responded.
"Yet," he said out loud to himself. Sirius hadn't written anything yet. He might still be making his way back to the cave; if someone had disturbed them, if he'd had to take extra precautions then it would take him that much longer to get back. He couldn't think the worst yet, he had to stay positive.
This line of thought lasted almost until he got back to the Gryffindor common room.
"Oh Potter," said an all too familiar voice scornfully. Harry felt his nerves flare in anger, but he just clamped his jaw and wrapped his fingers tighter around his wand as he turned to face the blond boy addressing him.
"Malfoy," he said curtly. "You're a long way from the dungeons."
Malfoy had the audacity to laugh, and something about his manner put Harry on edge, even more so than normal. Draco Malfoy glanced down at his gleaming prefect badge and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall casually. "I thought it was my duty to inform you, before word broke out." He grinned nastily. "I know everyone else will get the wrong idea."
"What?" snapped Harry, unamused. "Wrong idea about what?"
Malfoy's mouth twitched and his eyes danced. He pushed himself off of the wall and stepped closer to Harry. "You don't have any idea, do you." It was statement rather than a question, but Harry didn't bite. He just continued to glare as Malfoy took another step closer. "You know, and I know, the position my father has," he said softly, his eyes on the painting of an empty pastoral scene to Harry's left. His gait made it seem like he was confiding a big secret to Harry. "The friends he has."
The emphasis on the word 'friends' left Harry in no doubt. The last time he had seen Lucius Malfoy had been by Voldemort's side in the graveyard after his resurrection, professing his unwavering loyalty, trying to claw back any doubt his master may have had as to why he'd abandoned him after his apparent death. But Harry had escaped, only just with his life.
Cedric Diggory had not been so lucky.
"I know all too well," said Harry. "Him and Voldemort tried their very best to kill me."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly at the use of his Dark Lord's name, but he smoothed over it quick enough. "Then you know I'm not lying when I say I know precisely which of your daddy's friends it was that betrayed you and your parents, that got them killed."
Harry's insides ran cold. "Do you have a point?" he snarled, feeling like he might break his wand in his effort not to fire it.
"Only that everyone else is mistaken," said Malfoy, dropping his grey eyes from the painting to meet Harry's. "They'll think you'll be happy. They might actually congratulate you."
Harry couldn't trust himself to speak, and to make matters worse Malfoy burst out laughing. "Oh you still don't get it, do you?" he said, delighted. "Wormtail? Black? Well I guess you'll hear it soon enough. It seems the dog catcher's going to get a nice Christmas bonus this year..."
Harry lost his battle with his fist; but instead of using it to fire his wand, he smashed right it into Malfoy's smug, pale face.
The other boy yelled and staggered back, blood exploding from his nose and splashing over his Slytherin uniform.
"You're LYING!" cried Harry, a noise like a whistle going off in his head. He thought maybe one or two of his fingers may be broken, but he couldn't really register anything other than what Malfoy had said, or hadn't said.
Malfoy had lost all his humour and drew his own wand, pinching his nose in fury. "This is what you deserve." He growled as Harry aimed his wand back at him. "All of you, you'll fall before The Dark Lord, and your dog is just the first to go!" He wiped the back of his hand against his bloody nose and inspected the damage. "Well," he said coldly. "After that coward Diggory of course."
Harry made to fire on him, but Malfoy threw up a shield charm before he could. He didn't really care though, his mind was already a million miles away racing through all the possibilities.
It couldn't be true, he told himself numbly as he lowered his wand and broke into a run. They couldn't have got Sirius, not again.
"You're welcome!" called Malfoy spitefully to his back, but Harry had already forgotten him. His legs took him as fast as he could go, heading straight for the headmaster's office.
Dumbledore would know, he told himself. Dumbledore would tell him it wasn't true.
"Potter be careful!" scalded Professor McGonagall as he sprinted past, but he didn't even pause to apologise. He had to get to Dumbledore.
"Lemon," he panted as he skidded to a halt in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance. "Sherbet lemon." The statue nodded respectfully in response to Harry's knowing the password, and jumped aside to let him past.
Harry took the stairs two at a time, his vision swimming in front of him. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't.
He burst through the door at the top of the stairs without even knocking. "Headmaster I'm so sorry," he gasped. "But I just-"
It took him a second to realise that Professor Dumbledore was not alone. There, sat in front of his desk, were Ron and Hermione. All three of them snapped their heads around to face him as he came to a halt in the middle of the office.
"Harry," said Dumbledore, rising to his feet. "I just sent Fawkes out to find you, I had a message, from the Ministry."
But Harry barely heard him, or even looked at him for that matter.
The tears streaming down Hermione's face told him all the truth he needed to know.