Banish Misfortune

Chapter 19:

A coffin of bronze, and a vault made of asphalt are
Safe, if it's safety you want, dear…
                             --Dee Werner

He tried to be everywhere at once, watching, listening, sniffing. Sooner or later, in who knew what form, the enemy would make his move, and Sirius had to, had to be there when it happened.

He visited Dumbledore, hoping to pick up any new information or advice about the third task.

"I hope you will help us patrol the perimeter of the maze, in your canine form. Your senses, as a dog, may perceive danger that humans would miss. Hagrid, Minerva and Alastor are arranging the interior or the maze, placing the obstacles and entrapments at regular intervals. I know you are worried for Harry; I promise you he will be guarded."

Sirius nodded, but his face showed his anxiety. "Have you any idea what our enemies are planning? I've been listening in the village; nobody seems to know anything. There's lots of worry and talk, in the Dark pubs and shops, but nothing's been said, in my hearing, that indicates that anyone knows." He paced to and fro in Dumbledore's office, shoulders hunched, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Tell you what, why don't I follow him into the maze, invisible? I wouldn't interfere with anything connected with the task, but if anyone—any person—tried to hurt him, I'd be there."

Dumbledore shook his head. "That, I'm afraid, is impossible. As a precaution against cheating, no person may enter the maze except the four champions, unless summoned by the distress signal. And then, it can only be certain people: myself, or Hagrid, or two others. You would be immobilised if you tried to enter."

Sirius halted his circuits of the office and slumped into the big armchair. It was impossibly difficult: he had to protect Harry, but couldn't be near him. How was he ever to manage this?

The little tune he'd made surfaced in his mind, playing itself over and over like a litany. He looked up at the headmaster. "Albus, I'd like to see Harry once before he has to go into the maze."

The old man shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I do understand your concern for him, but I'm afraid that would be most unwise, and dangerous for both of you. Harry is most certainly being watched very closely just now. If he were seen with you, it could mean your own death or capture as well as his. I must advise against it."

Sirius clenched his hands into fists and started to protest, but in the end remained silent.

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A letter, 5 June:

Hello Sirius,

I thought I'd let you know, Folberg's summer term ends on 9 June. We'll be coming back to the Hut on the 10^th. It will be nice to be home. We thought packing would be a bit of a nuisance, but it seems we won't have to worry about it at all; Andreas says we can just leave everything and use this cabin again next term. It's great to be wanted!

Erik and Kjersti, with little Thor, will be staying on at the school, to tend the animals and make any repairs to boats and equipment, so Andie will be free all summer too. She's of two minds about this; she wants to come home, of course, and do some proper visiting with Nigel and his "new" family—but she can hardly bear to be parted from her animals. Clover and Violet (the goats, remember?) have become accustomed to a life of privilege, following Andie around the school wherever she goes; she's certain that they'll feel slighted in Kjersti's care. I expect we'll be paying the goats a visit periodically.

Since we'll be home before you, would you like to have us work on a room for Harry? I assume you're going to want him with you for the summer. Has Dumbledore said anything more about wanting him to stay with Lily's sister again? Surely he knows by now that you're competent to look after him. Let me know; we can talk about it at the full moon, at home!

I expect you have your hands full just now; have you any further information, or is it still just rumours? If things get too hectic for you, let us know; we can just as easily come up to Hogsmeade at the full moon if you don't want to leave.

Look after yourself--  

Remus

Sirius grinned with satisfaction as he folded the letter. It would be great to have his Pack here at Hogsmeade, in the event that things got too busy. Remus anticipated everything. No fanfare or fuss: they would simply build Harry a room while they waited for things to come to an end here. He hoped the Hut would stand the expansion; no reason why it shouldn't.

Then, it occurred to Sirius that this was the first time Harry's actual moving in with them had been put into words. Gratitude, and love for his Pack welled up, causing his throat to tighten. He hadn't had to ask, or even mention it. They knew.

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Sirius was sending daily owls to Harry now. His mind seemed to be working overtime, recalling spells Harry might be able to use in the maze. He scribbled them down, with tips on performing them, or lists of references to search through, in the library. Every letter included forceful reminders that outside events should not distract Harry from preparing for the third task.

In each of the notes also, with no explanation, he put a line of the words he'd chosen to go into Harry's song, so that they would begin to enter his mind. After the third task was over, he'd teach him the tune as well. The fact that the song existed, though, would provide some protection, he thought, even if Harry hadn't learned it yet. The song had become a litany in form:

Hidden from Dark thoughts, safe from harm.
From evil deeds, safe from harm.
On land, in air, through water, safe from harm.
Free to go, and be, and do—safe from harm.

By my own strength and courage, safe from harm.
By the power of my friends, safe from harm.
By the love of my friends, safe from harm.

Most songs, he knew, had verses arranged into four lines, or eight lines; but seven seemed pretty much to cover things, for his purposes.  It would have to do. It was what had come to him; it meant what he wanted it to mean. He wrote out the whole thing when he was sure it wasn't going to change any more, and dispatched it to Harry in the talons of a barn owl who happened by.

He laid aside his quill and ink bottle, and transformed. Padfoot continued his rounds.

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Saturday, 24 June: dusk.

Padfoot waited in the trees, listening to Bagman announcing each champion's name as they entered the maze. He left the trees and moved to the outer edge of the maze, walking slowly, trying to sense just where Harry was. The wind carried scents to him in a haphazard manner; sometimes he could locate Harry and sometimes not.

He thought of flying, wondered if it would be too dark; decided to try it. The little falcon soared up. Not as bad as he'd feared, not even as difficult as seeing through the waters of the lake. Things were visible even to his daylight-oriented eyes. There was Harry, he could see him talking to the, what was that thing, a Sphinx? Good God, where had they managed to find a Sphinx? But it let him pass—Harry had to have guessed a riddle.

Falcons didn't hover well. He lost altitude, swooped upwards, and flew a circuit over the entire maze, losing track of Harry. A  shout—Harry's voice, yelling a warning to someone. More shouts, that way—he headed towards the heart of the maze. Good Lord—what was that thing? It was a spider—a spider as big as a house! Harry and another boy, working together. Harry was hurt!

But there at the centre of the maze was a trophy; the boys were arguing. It seemed that each wanted the other to take it, but he couldn't make out the words of their conversation. They walked up to the trophy together, the taller boy supporting Harry, who had an injured leg. They stretched out their hands, each grasped a handle—and disappeared. What was that about? Was the contest over? Where were the boys?

Sirius flew to the edge of the maze, circled, found Dumbledore, patrolling the far boundary of the maze. Nobody around, he could risk his human form for a moment.

"What was that business with the trophy in the middle? A Portkey, was it? Harry and the Diggory boy took hold of it and disappeared—where did it take them?"

Albus stopped in his tracks. "Take them? It wasn't supposed to take them anywhere. You say they took hold of it together? Why?"

"They worked together to stupefy a giant spider; I couldn't hear their words, but I think they felt that they owed each other something. But what should we do now?"

Dumbledore's eyes were dark with worry, and, yes: fear. "I don't know," he whispered.

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Sunday, 25 June, 1:00 A.M.
  
A torrent of sound, footsteps, screams…

In the night, with all the confusion, the black dog felt that he could venture out of hiding and move in closer. That had to be Harry, on the ground! With the other boy—were they dead?  He galloped through the crowd, close as he could get, yelping when someone stepped on his paw just as someone else tripped over him and cursed.

Dumbledore; good. He watched as Albus spoke gently to Harry, helped him to his feet. He'd be all right now, but... he was telling Harry, "Wait here"! He needed to see the dead boy's parents... Padfoot would stay with Harry. He edged closer, through the crowd. Moody's voice, up ahead; trust him to be on duty. "It's all right, son, I've got you, come on... hospital wing..." Harry trying to stand, muttering, "Dumbledore said stay..."  Padfoot broke through the press of people, just behind Moody....wait... Moody? His nose twitched. Involuntarily, his muzzle wrinkled into a snarl of uncertainty and fear.

This was not Moody.

Padfoot knew this man's scent; if only he could remember....

But it was definitely not Moody.

He followed the man and Harry  up to the castle, watched them go inside, turned and tore off to find Dumbledore.

Padfoot couldn't speak; he'd have to risk.... Sirius moved into the shadows, transformed, conjured a hat with a wide brim, raced down to the crowd surrounding Albus and the Diggorys. He shoved his way through, took Dumbledore's arm firmly, and whispered, "Harry's been taken to the castle by someone who looks like Moody, but isn't. He smelled wrong; Padfoot knew right away."

Albus blinked, turned to look straight at him, and asked, "Who?"

And then Sirius remembered. "I don't know how it can be, but I think it was Crouch's son."

Albus gasped, then nodded. "Thank you, Sirius; and now you must protect yourself. Resume your canine form, and wait for me at Hagrid's." He scanned the crowd. "Severus, Minerva, please come with me; I need your help." The three of them ran toward the castle, leaving Sirius standing alone, giving him no time to object.

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Thursday, 29 June:                                

Albus and Sirius stood at the window of Dumbledore's office, watching the students strolling about the grounds, far below. The trio sitting by the lake would be Harry and his pals. Sirius watched them, his expression carefully neutral.  "I've seen them all; Fletcher and Arabella know; they'll be in touch. Zenobia says she'll write to you. How's Moody?"

"Recovering; he seems much better. He now knows the truth about you, I'm glad to say. He claims he knew all along you were innocent." Dumbledore smiled. "I never knew him to admit to affection for anyone before, but he does seem to care quite a bit for you. The knowledge of your innocence has cheered him up immensely."

Sirius nodded absently, thinking. Remus had offered to meet him here, to help in pressing his case, but he had elected to come alone. Now, increasingly nervous in the presence of this man who had been his mentor for so many years, he began to regret his refusal of help. Soon Albus would have to ask him, would want to know the real reason for his visit; should he wait? Should he start the argument himself? There was no way to avoid it. Still, he wasn't looking forward to it. He sidled toward his objective: "They look so peaceful from up here.... You'd never know he's been through such an ordeal."

"Yes; it has been good for Harry, having Ron and Hermione for this little time, before he goes back to the Dursleys."

Here it was. Sirius took a deep breath. "You can't be thinking of sending Harry back there! After all he's been through, Albus! He's seen a friend die, right before his eyes. He's ... the last thing he needs now is to be all alone, worse than alone!" Sirius paused, searching for words. He remembered leaving Harry, less than a week ago, in this very office. Harry, clasping his hand, the defeat in his voice as he said goodbye. "Yeah, of course I understand..." But he didn't. "Kids always think it's their fault.…"

"Albus, you can't send him back there to be miserable any longer." Sirius gripped the stone windowsill with one hand and looked steadily at his old headmaster, trying to read Dumbledore's face. The old man was listening, he thought, or perhaps just biding his time to let Sirius run out of steam before refusing. But he couldn't refuse, not this time.

Sirius left the window and began pacing, his strides too long for the room, hauling up abruptly a time or two to avoid collisions with furniture. "He's my responsibility, Albus. You've looked after him, after a fashion, and kept him safe, while I was locked up. But that's not enough. Harry isn't a piece of jewellery to be locked in a safe; he's a person. He's a kid, so vulnerable, wondering if he's doing well, wondering if he's—acceptable, even—there's no way to give him any sort of real love and assurance except in person! All this time, Harry and I have both been in prison. Safe, I suppose, but safety is a damn poor substitute for freedom."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius, without pausing in his stride, threw up a hand to ward off objections.

"Albus, I can give him freedom and safety! I've learned some excellent protections; ones that Voldemort won't think of in a million years. And if Harry was saved once by Lily's willingness to die for him, then my own willingness to do so should be nearly as good. He needs a family; a real family, not that collection of subhumans you've stuck him with. And I promised, Albus. A long time ago, to my best friend. I promised." His foot connected with the leg of a small table, causing it to skew into his path. He resisted the urge to give it a harder kick, righted it and went on.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, he needs a family. Can you promise him a family, in such dangerous times? Can you promise to keep him safe from harm, when you yourself are the object of relentless pursuit? Sirius, you do not understand all that is at stake. Harry is sought after by one of the most dangerous threats to the wizarding world. Keeping him safe keeps everyone safe, at this time. When he is grown, and at his full power, he..."

"...he'll hate everyone, and wish you and me in Hell. What will you say to him then, when he's grown? 'You can come out now; go on and save us all'? To quote a friend of mine, you don't use kids that way. No, Albus, I can't promise he'll be safe. Can you, if you keep him from me? Was he safe, in the maze? Can anyone promise safety to anyone, ever? But if he's in danger, I'll be with him, not sitting in Hagrid's damned pumpkin patch!

And before you ask, no: I can't even promise he'll be happy. But if he's sad, I'll be there to let him cry on my shoulder. If he does anything wrong, and he will, I can correct him. As a parent, not as a hysterical, sadistic prison guard. That's what I can promise. 

And I'll love him; I can promise that. If I run into trouble, and I probably will, I'll have help. There's Andie and Remus; there's Andreas; there's Paul and Cécile... there's my father. And a few others. Harry and I do have a family." He paused, looking intently into the old man's face, at the unhappiness in the headmaster's eyes, and added softly, "And you; we have you, as well."

He stopped his furious pacing and stood at the window again, facing Dumbledore, hands open and lifted in a gesture that could be interpreted as pleading; the expression in his eyes eloquent, defiant, passionate.

"Albus, ask any parent in the whole world: 'Would you be willing to give your child up to cruel, abusive, stupid people for the rest of his life, on the off chance that they'd take better care of him than you would?' Harry's my child now; I can't let anyone use him that way." He let his hands fall to his sides, but he did not drop his gaze, nor did he step back.

It was Albus who looked away. "What you are asking to do is desperately dangerous. However, you have made me consider that perhaps my own course of action has been just as dangerous, in other ways. Very well." He walked to his fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo powder, and called, "Minerva!" When she appeared, he said, "Would you send someone out to the lake, and ask Harry to come up to my office, please?"

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Harry knocked at the door to the office; it swung open. He paused uncertainly, his eyes questioning. Dumbledore smiled at the boy, at his skinny, coltish awkwardness. Harry had grown noticeably since September; his wrists and ankles were now  sticking out several inches from his school robe. He appeared absurdly young and vulnerable, the faint apprehension in his face giving him the look of a wary little boy. Albus moved aside, revealing Sirius, sitting in the armchair.

"Sirius?"

Sirius stood up, laughing through a mist of tears. He crossed the room in two steps, and cautiously at first, embraced his godson. His son. He held tighter as he felt Harry hugging him back: lifted him off the floor in a bear hug, thirteen years overdue. He waited a long moment before trusting his voice to be steady, then he asked softly, "Do you think you'd be willing to spend summers with me from now on? We'll be doing some travelling...."

Harry nodded, his face pressed into Sirius's chest. His emotions were such a jumble of happiness and confusion that at first he heard nothing else, but after a moment, he realised that Sirius was still speaking:

"…and the first thing we need to do, today, is: I need to teach you a song."

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A letter, 10 July:

Hi Ron!

I can't tell you where we are, but there's a clock here, on the mantel, and it has a hand with my name on it. It's pointing to "home" now. So I'm home, I guess. Really home. I have my own room and everything. We're going to stay here for a while, and then we're going to visit some friends in a couple of other places. It's out in the country, and it's pretty; there's a stream where Snuffles is teaching me to fish. He isn't very good at it, and we usually end up pretty wet, but it's lots of fun.

I have a family which calls itself a Pack, there are four of us now. The other two are really nice and they're going with us when we leave. You know one of them. They sort of took care of Snuffles last summer. They're teaching me to Apparate; it will make things easier if I can learn it. Oh, and I learned a cool spell for making people's  clothes disappear; when I saw it the first time I laughed so hard I couldn't stand up!

They say you can come with us when we go to where we're going next, I hope your mum and dad let you! And Hermione too; I'm sending her a note. Snuffles says he'll write to your folks.

I haven't forgotten about Cedric, or Voldemort. I know things are going to get bad, and we'll have to fight, sooner or later. Just now, though, I'm so happy that it almost seems like everything will be OK.

Cheers,   Harry