They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

Dethryl

Story Summary:
Harry Potter's new life with his godfather, Sirius Black, is the stuff his best dreams were made of. As they turn 12 Grimmauld Place into a real home, Harry finally gets to hear all about his father and mother. At the Quidditch World Cup, Harry learns of the upcoming Triwizard Tournament from Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Back at Hogwarts, there's treachery afoot, as Harry is named as a fourth Champion. Can his reputation recover from what the other Houses are saying? Who will stand with him? Who will stand against him? Tasks of immense danger loom, and dark shadows are gathering again. How can Harry survive with life and limb in peril? Will Harry ever be the same again?

Chapter 04 - The Best Birthday Ever

Chapter Summary:
Harry finally gets to have a proper birthday party, and he's invited practically everyone he knows. Grimmauld Place is filled with people having a good time. Harry eavesdrops on a conversation between Sirius and Mrs. Malfoy. Sirius retrieves his flying motorbike. Harry does his school shopping.
Posted:
04/06/2009
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They Shook Hands : Year Four

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Four - The Best Birthday Ever

Harry invited a lot of people to his birthday party. There were all his friends in Slytherin, of course. Then you counted the Ravenclaw Trio that sometimes hung out with them. Harry had bridged the divide to Hufflepuff by inviting Susan and Hannah. There were two ex-Gryffindors as well. Harry had extended an invitation to Percy Weasley and his little sister Ginny. He'd even gone so far as to tell Padma Patil to invite her Gryffindor twin sister Parvati and had warned Pansy to be on her best behaviour.

As far as parents and families, he'd invited the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the Moons, and the Bulstrodes. Tim's father had been included in that worthy's invitation, but the old wizard had declined. Harry didn't invite Blaise's family, because he had no desire to see Elan Malfoy and Jamie Zabini in close quarters again. The last time, Jamie had tried to hex Elan, and he'd ended up breaking her hand in self-defence.

Sirius and Remus were throwing the party. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say Padfoot and Moony were throwing it, because their ideas were completely insane. Harry firmly rejected the notion of a themed party (of a Muggle movie, no less!), hiring a platoon of clowns, and flooding the ground floor for a pool party.

Harry just wanted things simple. He wanted there to be a big selection of food. He only wanted to be in the company of all his friends; they meant everything to him. Of course everyone had accepted their invitations.

Kreacher had gone quite berserk in the kitchen. The long dining room table was covered with all of Harry's favourites. He ate enough to let his belt out. Nobody sat, but stood around with plates in hand while they talked and ate.

It was odd to see the mixing of the crowd. Most of his friends' parents congregated together. The younger children did a bit of running around. Percy and Elan were having an animated conversation off to the side. Harry's friends spread out, never more than four to a group. Pansy and Parvati were keeping their distance from each other out of respect for Harry's party.

Harry, the guest of honour, was obliged to exchange pleasantries with the adults. It was awfully boring hearing them talk about compound interest and the current spike in the price of dragon blood. He needed a distraction, so he latched on to Remus, who had spent most of the party chatting with Mandy Brocklehurst and the Patil twins.

"Remus, the place looks outstanding. You two outdid yourselves." Streamers dangled from every fixture. Balloons of every colour formed pictures of Harry on every wall. There was even a life-sized balloon sculpture of Harry standing at the front of the room.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Quite the party, Harry," Elan complimented as they approached.

"Thanks. Sirius and Remus did most of the decorating."

"It's quite ace."

Sirius walked by just then, so Harry grabbed his arm. "Hear that, Sirius? Elan officially thinks this party is ace."

Harry's godfather bowed in acknowledgement. "Glad you think so, Elan. I love it, because my mother would have hated it. Tell me, have you seen your mother around?"

"I think she's upstairs. She was going to look at the art room."

"Thank you. Harry, excuse me, please."

As Harry watched Sirius make his way through the crowd of people, he suddenly had a sneaking suspicion. Excusing himself from Elan and Percy, who were quizzing Remus about his teaching experience at Hogwarts, he set down his plate and ducked out of the dining room to follow Sirius upstairs. Sirius went immediately to the art room and closed the door behind him. Harry crept closer to listen at the keyhole.

"Hello, Narcissa."

"You've done absolute wonders with the place, cousin," came her voice into Harry's ear.

"Kreacher's quite turned 'round now that he thinks I've changed my spots. It's fair disgusting, if I may be so blunt."

"Do you despise me so much, cousin? I thought we had at least a few happy times as children."

"It's not you, Cissa. It's the path you chose, and the master you served. I won't let him take Harry, do you understand me? It Will Not Happen. He took James and Lily from me. He took Peter. He's tried to get Harry, and only by Merlin's luck has he failed. I must be vigilant against the Darkness."

"We're not plotting to serve Harry up to You-Know-Who on a silver platter."

"Really?" Sirius drawled, sarcasm dripping off the word like rain. "So if Voldemort came back tomorrow -- stop flinching -- you'd protect Harry from him, would you?"

"Yes."

"You'd be killed."

"We know."

"And still you would defy him?"

"I know you would not believe Lucius if he drank a whole vial of Veritaserum, but we lived in fear. The Dark Lord was not shy about turning his wrath on his followers. I have witnessed Lucius writhing in remembered pain. The Dark Lord went mad. The sort of sport he enjoyed was stomach-turning. His hate perverted him. We are too gently bred for such a degree of turpitude."

"You and your lot were plenty willing to listen when Voldemort was preaching that hatred about Muggleborns and Muggles."

"We hate Muggles with good reason, Sirius! Muggle fear of magic has almost wiped us out in ages past! What they do not understand they hate, and what they hate they fear, and what they fear they destroy. We are more than they, and they hate us for it.

"But Muggleborns?" she continued. "They are only children. I cannot hate innocent children, Sirius. I am a mother; I have held children, and I cannot hate any of them. Even a Muggle child I would not hate, only hate what it would grow up to become. A Muggleborn child is magical. They are more and are hated for it. That's why Lucius fought to get the Magical Child Protection Act passed."

"I've heard about this law. I think it's a bad idea, Cissa," Sirius said plainly. "Who's going to want to adopt these children? You? The other pureblood families? You might be able to fool the public, but I know better. I grew up tojour pur, cousin. They'd sooner stab their wands through their ears than allow a 'dirty, filthy Mudblood' into their precious mansions."

"You forgot smelly."

"Narcissa, be serious!"

"But then who would you be?"

Sirius growled, and Harry imagined him grinding his teeth in frustration. "Why haven't you taken in one of these sweet, precious babes, then?" he asked scathingly. "I hear you talking, but I don't see you acting."

"The apparatus of the Magical Child Protection Agency is still being established. Under-Secretary Pettinato has been quite insistent on caution. Not one Muggleborn has yet been removed from the birth parents. We want to do this right, Sirius, and not allow anyone to slip through the cracks. But don't you worry; I've got all the Ministry wives involved. We're keeping things running, thankfully."

Sirius was quiet for a minute. "So if you're so fond of Muggleborns, does that mean you're going to mend fences with Andromeda?"

Now Mrs. Malfoy was quiet. "There's a lot of history there, Sirius, as you know. There's been more since you've been away. I don't know if it will be possible."

"Are you going to try?"

"I will evaluate this Tonks on his own merits, if she will let me."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for at the moment."

Harry heard footsteps, and he scurried for the stairway. He nearly crashed into Draco as his best mate came out of the duelling room.

"There you are," Harry said with relief at finding some cover. "I've been looking everywhere."

"I knew where I was."

"I know where you'll be going if you keep that attitude up," Harry snorted.

"Isn't it about time we had some cake or something? What kind of birthday party doesn't have cake?"

"My first ten."

"Untrue, Harry," Sirius said from behind him. "There was cake at your first birthday, and I ate most of it. You, however, made quite a mess. I wonder if I can dredge up the pictures somehow."

Harry turned around to see Sirius smiling. Draco's mother stood next to him. His eyes were distant for a moment, but then he focused again.

"If it's cake you want, my boy, then cake you shall have. To the dining room!"

"Wait," Harry said. "I want to try something. Gravitas penna!"

Sirius could not have looked more delighted. He cast the Featherfall Charm on himself, and as Draco and Mrs. Malfoy looked on in puzzlement, they counted to three. Together they jumped over the railing into empty air.

Mrs. Malfoy screamed, and Draco shouted out in surprise. So naturally everyone turned to look as Harry and his godfather floated gently down the open shaft of the house.

"This is absolutely tops," Harry muttered, trying not to grin too hard.

"Bunch of stick-in-the-muds," Sirius whispered scornfully. "They need a bit of shaking up."

Harry grinned madly. As his feet touched the floor, there were several sighs of relief, and all of his friends burst into applause. Harry bowed rakishly, and suddenly everyone got very quiet.

Kreacher walked proudly through the door escorting a levitating sheet cake depicting a Quidditch match. He set it gently on the table.

"Happy birthday to you," Sirius sang loudly.

"Happy birthday to you," everyone joined in. "Happy birthday, dear Harry! Happy birthday to you!"

"And many more!" Crabbe and Goyle sang dramatically.

The regulation fourteen broomsticks flew around the miniature Quidditch scene. Each of those brooms also had a flame dancing at the top of the handle. His candles. Harry sucked in a deep breath, wished as hard as he could to be a quick study at Animagus lessons, and blew every one of the candles out.

Everyone applauded his lung capacity, and Kreacher began serving cake. When everyone was served, then he took away the empty dinner plates, humming happily to himself.

The house elf had snapped out of the crazed funk he'd been in when Harry had first seen him. His gruesome mutterings were gone. Now he praised Sirius obsequiously. It was "Good Master" this and "Gracious Master" that. Once, Kreacher had said "Handsome Master", and Harry had sprayed juice all over the table while Sirius looked on very not amused. He didn't reprimand Kreacher, though, perhaps because the old elf deserved to die happy rather than bitter and miserable.

After cake, Harry began opening his presents. He made sure to open the card first and to thank the giver for his or her thoughtfulness. A lot of the presents were candy-, scholarly-, or music-related. He enjoyed gifts like Sugar Quills, writing quills, and The Black Quills' latest album.

The best present undoubtedly came from Remus. The man had always been a bit broke, but the gift he gave was beyond any price. It was a simple photo album filled with moving pictures, and the subjects of those photos brought a tear to Harry's eye that he did his best to blink away. Every shot was of James and Lily, and also of the Marauders. Harry felt a surge of anger when he saw Wormtail's smiling face, but he let it go. That betrayal had been punished.

He turned the pages slowly, watching as his parents and their friends got older. Then there were pictures of James holding baby Harry up triumphantly, shouting out his joy to the world. There was Sirius, nervously holding Harry, wrapped up in his blankie, and a baby bottle. A picture of Lily snuggled with Harry, her face filled with indescribable joy, brought a tear to Harry's eye. Even more moving was James and Sirius hugging each other tightly, both crying their eyes out.

Harry shut the book before he could make a sentimental fool out of himself in front of everyone. "Thanks," he croaked to Remus.

Thankfully Sirius covered for him by handing Harry his last present. There was no card. The package was about a foot square and neatly wrapped. It was heavy. Harry shook it slightly, trying to guess what was inside. It rattled slightly.

With intense curiosity, Harry opened the box and pulled out a dark green helmet with silver tribal patterns painted on the bottom. Could it be?

"A motorbike helmet?" he said in a questioning voice, not daring to believe it. He looked up at Sirius, who was grinning madly.

"Yes. I used to drive one, you know. I loaned it out some years back, but I've been of a mind to go get it back."

Harry had loved Sirius' stories about how he and James had gone hell-raising in their youth on that motorbike. Now Sirius was as good as asking Harry to take his dad's place. Harry choked on more sudden emotion. What a present! What a godfather!

"And as well," Sirius added, reaching into the pocket of his robes. "Here." He handed Harry a plain envelope.

"The card?"

"Better."

Inside the card addressed "To my godson, Harry," were tickets to the Quidditch World Cup -- the Minister's box.

Harry was speechless. There was nothing he could say. At the event of the year, he would be watching from the best seats in the house. By Merlin's trusty broom, Harry didn't know how to react.

"Well, mate?" Draco asked.

Wordlessly, Harry showed the tickets. Draco did not even blink. "That is simply brill," he said.

"Sirius, how did you get an invitation to the Minister's box?" Harry needed to know.

"Minister Fudge was only too happy to let us watch the match from his box," Sirius said sardonically. "Once I explained the situation to him, that is."

For no reason at all, Lucius Malfoy let out a sharp laugh. "Cousin Sirius, I'm proud of you."

Sirius looked as though he'd swallowed a live toad.

Harry looked over at Susan. "Do you want in?"

Susan's eyes got very wide. "You mean sit with you? In the Minister's box?"

"Sure. Unless you want to sit in that crowd all by yourself then, yeah?"

"Thank you, Harry. I would be delighted."

Once the cake and ice cream and presents were over with, many people departed. Harry was fairly glad of that. It had been a long day, and he was tired. Still, that didn't keep Draco, Jenna, and Pansy from staring into the fire for a few minutes. Then because the chairs in the drawing room were so comfortable, it became a few minutes more.

"Thanks for coming, guys," Harry said. "It wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Wouldn't miss it, mate," Draco declared. "I love a good party. It was worth coming just to watch Blaise run from the room when you asked Bones out in front of everyone."

"I didn't do that!" Harry gasped aghast.

"You most certainly did, Harry," Jenna smugly informed him. "I saw the whole thing."

"But Susan offered to share her tickets for the Cup Final," Harry protested. "She's going by herself, and if Sirius and I don't sit with her, she'll be all alone."

"Doesn't matter. You invited Susan Bones, niece of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, to the Minister's box. That's a date."

Harry groaned. "This is the last thing I need!"

"I told you, Harry, this is exactly how you get Blaise off your back."

"Draco, you're not helping."

"Blaise has become rather tiresome lately, hasn't she?" Pansy said speculatively.

"Absolutely," Jenna agreed. "Harry told her he wanted to just be friends, and she can't seem to deal with that."

"I just don't feel that way about her," Harry said.

"And that's fine," she said with a nod. "You're not obligated to date her just because she has a crush."

"I don't see why she's so bent out of shape," Pansy interjected. "It's not like you two were ever really going out. One date and a few kisses does not make a relationship. Not like me and Draco." She kissed her boyfriend lightly.

Jenna giggled. "That's so true, Pansy."

"I just want things to be the way they used to be," Harry complained. "Now I'm always wondering if she's going to try to kiss me. I can't be around her and just be normal."

"Never going to happen, Harry," Draco said sagely. "You can't go back."

* * *

The following day, Sirius asked Harry to join him in the drawing room after lunch. With a pinch of Floo powder, the flames of the fire turned green, and Sirius shouted, "Hogsmeade!"

They emerged from the Floo Network in the common room of the Three Broomsticks. Only Rosmerta was present, wiping down the bar from the lunch crowd. She nodded to them without speaking, even as she eyed Sirius cautiously.

Sirius led Harry outside and up the lane. He took a slow pace up to the gates of Hogwarts, which stood closed and imposing. The school crest hung imposingly on each iron-wrought door. Sirius tapped the lock with his wand.

"Sirius Black, here to see the Keeper of Keys and Grounds."

The lock unlatched on its own, and the gate creaked open. Sirius held it and motioned for Harry to precede him. Harry entered and turned to see Sirius carefully closing and latching the gate. He and Harry walked side by side up the path and across the grounds to Hagrid's hut.

Despite the heat of the summer, a fire burned inside. A curl of smoke drifted lazily upward in the still air. A steady, wooden thunk beat a regular rhythm that they followed around the hut.

Hagrid was wielding a great axe with both hands to chop firewood a cord at a time. In the big man's veins, it was whispered, ran a trace of giant's blood. He certainly was impressive, waving that axe around like it didn't weigh anything. Millie had told them stories of the creatures Professor Hagrid had brought to them for Care for Magical Creatures. Some of them got a bit uppity when the ignorant or mischievous students provoked them, and Hagrid had needed to wrestle the great beasties into submission. With due respect to the temperature, he was wearing a leather vest, open in the front. The muscles rippling on Hagrid's arms and chest were scarred in several places from where the tussling had gotten a bit rough.

"Hallo!" he boomed, not sounding a bit winded, despite his exercise. "Don't mine me. I've jus' bin cuttin' a bit of wood fer the fire."

"Hello, Hagrid," Sirius said warmly.

"Harry," Hagrid said with a nod.

"Professor."

"Oh, yeh don't need teh be botherin' with that on the holiday," Hagrid said, sounding embarrassed. "I'm just Hagrid, same as I was when I come get you offa that rock."

Harry had never forgotten that night. That was the moment when his whole world had changed. Hagrid was the first wizard Harry had ever met, even if he wasn't a fully qualified wizard. It had been the start of his crazy magical adventure, and Hagrid had been there.

Granted, Hagrid had done little to impress him since then. The man drank too much and had once tried to raise a dragon in his wooden hut. He'd kept a giant spider in the castle while he'd been a student, been blamed for Moaning Myrtle's death, and expelled.

But he'd risen from the lowly position of groundskeeper and become a teacher at that same school. Harry knew that Hagrid had been framed but had no way to prove it. Still, he'd done alright for himself. Hagrid was Professor Dumbledore's man through and through. He'd warned Vernon Dursley to never insult the man. Dumbledore had reciprocated that loyalty.

"Would yeh like some tea or summat?"

"No, thank you. We just finished lunch," Sirius declined politely.

"So then. Yer owl said it were a matter of importance?"

"Yes. I know it's been a long time, but do you still have my old motorbike? I've been telling Harry stories about it, and he asked what happened to it."

Hagrid laughed merrily. "Oh, that thing! Aye, I've still got it. Keep it locked up right safe. Nobody bothers it t'all. I should've known yeh'd be comin' fer it."

Sirius had morosely speculated that his old joyride had ended up as scrap metal, so his face lit up like a firecracker. He was very agitated as Hagrid stepped inside his hut.

"Jus' gimmie a moment 'ere!"

Harry watched with Sirius as Hagrid emerged from his hut carrying the old umbrella he'd used in the past to perform bits of magic. He'd asked Harry to keep quiet about what his umbrella could do, and now he pointed it at a large rock set a few steps from the hut.

With a rumble, the ground beneath the rock began to rise up. A stony pillar emerged. With a tap from Hagrid's umbrella, the stone melted away to reveal an arch. Hagrid stepped inside and wheeled out a very dusty, very dirty motorbike. He propped it on the kickstand.

Sirius walked slowly towards the bike. He ran one hand along the handlebars and grimaced at the grime he wiped off. Sirius uttered a Charm that Harry didn't recognize, and dust poofed into the air, repelled from the surface of the motorbike.

Now it was a thing of beauty. Chrome gleamed in the noonday sun. The dark blue paint sparkled like it was alive. Sirius nodded in satisfaction and walked around it to see every angle.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I appreciate you taking such good care of her."

"My pleasure, Sirius. Are yeh off, then?"

"Yes. I know Harry's eager for his first ride."

"But I left my helmet at home," Harry said.

Sirius winked at him and pulled the helmet from a fold of his robes. "Give me a bit of credit, please," he requested, taking out his own helmet, glossy black with red and gold flames. He fastened the strap under his chin before checking Harry's as well. Â He threw a leg over the seat and ran his hands over the handlebars again.

Powerful maintenance charms must have preserved the motorbike, because a mighty roar split the air as the great machine thundered to life. Several birds took to the air, startled out of their complacence by the unmistakable sound of a Harley-Davidson.

Sirius reached out and gave Harry a hand as he settled into the seat. Sirius gunned the throttle a bit, and Harry's laughter was lost as they rolled across the grounds. Sirius' hair whipped Harry in the face as they took off down the path, raising a cloud of dust in their wake. The gates opened as they approached, and then they were hurtling on the lane to Hogsmeade. Sirius activated the shifter on the left side of the engine. With a hard bounce, they flew up into the air!

It was just like the dream he'd had as a child. But it had been no mere dream. Harry's night visions had called up the memory of being taken away from Godric's Hollow by Hagrid on Sirius' motorbike, this motorbike.

"Brilliant!" he screamed in Sirius' ear.

Sirius could only laugh with him.

After a time in the sky, Sirius activated the Disillusionment Charm, and magic slid down Harry's head like warm water. Sirius directed the motorbike downward towards a large town. They landed smoothly on the road and ducked into an alley. Sirius killed the concealment, and they exited with a roar of the motor.

Sirius skilfully weaved the motorbike in and out of traffic. Muggles on the sidewalk all turned their heads to look as they drove by. Harry couldn't help but wave at them as he passed. They got onto the motorway, and Sirius really opened up the throttle. Harry knew he was going just as fast as a racing broom. The rushing wind was intoxicating.

With a screech of rubber on pavement, Sirius stopped the motorbike in front of a dilapidated old storefront that Harry wouldn't have recognized if not for the faded sign hanging outside proclaiming the Leaky Cauldron.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked over the noise of the engine idling.

"Shopping trip. You've got your list, right?"

"Er."

"Good thing I brought it, then." Sirius shut off the motor and surreptitiously tapped the engine with his wand. "Now nobody who doesn't know the Charm can activate it," he said.

That was a very useful security measure, and Harry resolved to remember it and adapt it to other circumstances. Sirius tucked their helmets away in the folds of his robes, and they strolled through the door to the pub. Old Tom nodded to them as he wiped off the counter. Sirius didn't stop for a drink as he led Harry out the back to the brick wall that marked the entrance to Diagon Alley. Sirius did not hesitate as he tapped on the brick to open the way into the centre of wizarding commerce.

"First stop, Madam Malkin's," Harry decided. "I've grown again."

"Funny how that happens," Sirius observed innocently.

To Harry's intense surprise, Madam Malkin's stool was occupied by Millie Bulstrode; she was wearing something that looked remarkably like a dress. The fabric was pale purple and frilly. As Harry walked in, she was vacillating about how fancy she looked.

"This is rotten!" she half-shouted. "I can't even move in this thing! Too much frill!"

"I dunno, Mills. That colour is quite fetching on you."

Instead of spitting back a retort, Millie hid her face in the folds of the material. "Go away, Harry. I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"My dear, everyone is going to see you like this," Madam Malkin fussed. "You will look your absolute best, I promise."

"My best is barely Blaise's worst," Millie snapped back.

"You're too hard on yourself," Harry said encouragingly. "It's not like you're Eloise Midgen."

Millie giggled wickedly. The Hufflepuff girl had been teased all during the last year for having a horrible pimple problem. Pansy had done a good amount of that teasing, scoring bonus points for mocking an older student.

"True, there's that. But you know me, Harry. I hate dressing up. Why do we have to have stupid dress robes this year?"

"I don't know."

"You're lucky you don't have to wear this get-up," Millie said heatedly. "Mother swore she'd never try to get me in a dress again and dumped me here. She's gone in for an ice cream while I have to stand here and be pricked with needles held by shaking hands. Alright, get on with it."

Alice, Madam Malkin's assistant, quickly helped Harry into a bottle-green number.

"This'll go lovely with your eyes, love," she declared. "And what's more, it's a Bulstrode robe."

"I recognize that," Millie said. "Mother showed me the design two months ago for some odd reason. She wanted to know what I thought. Mental. As if I care about clothes."

Sirius, leaning against the back wall, was acting silly whenever he thought the ladies weren't watching, and it was all Harry could do to not double up with laughter at the faces and miming.

Even distracted, he didn't let her turn him into too much of a dandy. When at last he was allowed to step off the stool, Harry wrote down the colours and quantities he wanted (black for school, green for whenever, silver dress for Christmas, and white dress for New Year's Eve).

Harry reached for his moneybag, but Sirius had already laid down some Galleons on the counter. He looked askance at his godfather, but realized at once that he didn't need to pay his own way any more. It was a strange feeling, but immensely comforting. This is what it meant to have a dad, someone to trust in. Sirius was his guardian and would provide for him. Harry blinked away a sudden wetness in his eyes.

They bid good-bye to Millie, who was ranting at poor Madam Malkin, and continued with their shopping. There were not very many people out today, so Harry was able to quickly acquire all of his books and supplies. He made sure to stock up his potions ingredients, taking so much time in the Apothecary that Sirius started to tease him about not having time to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Oh no," Harry said hurriedly. "I need broom polish."

"That broom doesn't need any polish. It's as bright as a diamond."

"Because I polish it."

When at last their trip was done, they carried all of Harry's purchases to the brick wall at the end of the alley. With a Shrinking Charm and a wide wand movement, Sirius reduced all of the items to a mere fraction of their former size, placed them neatly in his pocket, and led the way back to Muggle London.

It was almost with regret that Harry climbed off when they reached Grimmauld Place. Sirius walked the motorbike into the back and stored it in the shed. He hung his helmet on the handlebars, placed Harry's on the seat, and locked the shed securely.

Sirius put his hand on Harry's shoulder as they walked towards the house.

"You're doing very well with your lessons," Sirius said approvingly.

Harry had quickly achieved being able to grow his hair at an instant's thought. He debated adopting a radical new style, but the ponytail he tried looked so ridiculous that even his mirror had laughed at him. He had also seemingly gained control over his hair's unruly nature. It stayed cut now, and he could even style it if so inclined. Would wonders never cease?

"I have a good teacher."

"My excellent tutelage aside, you can't train what's not there. I told you I'd have you transforming in no time."

"If I can get past the pain."

Harry was now trying to melt the flesh and bones of his hands to make his fingers longer. He practised several times every day, even when he was by himself, even if it was only for a few minutes. It was very painful work. Sometimes while he was trying to manipulate his hands, his brain forgot and tried to grow his hair some more. It was very distracting, because then his hands throbbed in synchronization with his head. Harry had resorted to the medicinal potions more than a few times.

Seeing Sirius so happy at the progress Harry was making made the pain worth it. His father would have been just as proud, Sirius often said wistfully. Harry had seldom had an adult be proud of him, and he didn't quite know how to respond. All Harry knew was that he wanted to keep making Sirius proud. He wanted to see his godfather smile more. Laughter drove away the shadows of Azkaban that still haunted him from time to time.

But Harry had his own shadows that haunted his dreams. Three nights shy of three weeks later, his sleep was troubled. He tossed and turned as visions filled his head. He fought against the covers and woke up shouting a warning to a Muggle he'd never met before.

Harry bolted out of bed and up the stairs to Sirius' room. He'd never been so terrified, even by his worst nightmares. He crashed the door open and flung himself to the floor beside the bed. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.

"Sirius! Wake up, please!"

"Harry! Are you hurt? What's going on?"

"I dreamed!" he gasped. "I dreamed of Voldemort. And it was really him!"

"What do you mean it was really him?"

"I've had bad dreams before. He's been the cause of a lot of them, but this was different. It felt real. It felt like it was really happening. I don't know where it was, but I think someone's helping him again. I saw a room, and a cradle, and a snake."

Harry spilled out his dream in bits and pieces. Basically, he'd seen two men he didn't know and heard one person he was well-acquainted with. Lord Voldemort's high, cold voice still gave Harry chills. The evil wizard had been talking to one man who appeared to be his servant. They'd been plotting -- something, and the other man had overheard them. Voldemort had commanded his Death Eater to kill the man. The thump of a body hitting the floor echoed in Harry's ears.

"My scar hurts. I can feel my pulse. It's throbbing so bad, Sirius. Make it stop, please."

Sirius tapped the scar with his wand and the agony faded to a dull ache. Harry almost cried with relief. His trembling gradually ceased as Sirius stroked his hair soothingly.

"It's all right, Harry. I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you."

When he'd calmed down, Harry cleared his throat and stood up.

"Thank you, Sirius. Sorry to be such a swot."

"Don't ever be sorry to come to me," his godfather said firmly. "Any time, day or night, rain or shine, I will drop the world for you."

Harry gave Sirius a grateful hug that was strongly returned. He went back downstairs and got into bed, though it was a long time before he closed his eyes. He slept a bit, though it was not easy sleep. After breakfast, Sirius broached the subject of the nightmare.

"I think you should write to Professor Dumbledore. He's very knowledgeable, and he might be able to shed some light on the subject."

Harry and Sirius had at last reached a bone of contention. In Harry's humble opinion, Dumbledore was a hasty-witted slice of maggot-pie. When Harry had been orphaned by Lord Voldemort, the most evil Dark wizard in an age, Dumbledore had decreed that Harry was to live with his mother's Muggle sister and family. He'd been warned by his trusted second, Professor McGonagall, that these Muggles were the worst of their sort, but still Harry had gone. At Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry had gone through ten years of hell. Dumbledore had known about it, at least in part, and done nothing. When Harry had confronted the old wizard about it, he had made no defence, saying that it was the best of bad choices. Harry honestly wondered what could have been worse.

"I'm not about to ask him," Harry declared, folding his arms across his chest. "He's never done anything for me before. Why should he start now?"

Sirius looked troubled. "I'll admit he could have looked after you a bit better, but he's still very wise, Harry."

Harry tried not to snort. "He might know a lot of things, but one thing he isn't is wise. A wise person listens to advice. He said Professor McGonagall warned him about the Dursleys. Why wouldn't he listen to her? He obviously trusts her."

Sirius couldn't answer the question, because he let it pass. "Despite your personal feelings towards Professor Dumbledore, which are entirely understandable given your age, you should still write to him and ask because he's still your best resource. No one in the known history of magic has ever survived the Killing Curse. Therefore, your best bet at finding the knowledge you seek is to consult with the most learned wizards. That means Dumbledore."

It was enough to make you sick. "It's not fair," Harry complained.

Sirius now smiled at him. "No, life seldom is. I hope no one ever promised you it would be."

Harry didn't feel like answering that. At least, not in words he suspected his godfather might hex his mouth shut for saying.

"Tell you what," Sirius proposed, "I'll write to Dumbledore."

"You?"

"Sure. Why not?"

And Harry couldn't think of a reason. So after breakfast, Sirius drafted a letter of inquiry. He shared the contents with Harry before he sent it, and Harry felt that Sirius did a much better job than he ever could have of neutrally conveying the information without giving away how terrified Harry had been. He handed back the parchment with a nod of thanks.

Until Regal came back, there was nothing else to do but carry on with his day. He followed Sirius into the duelling room where he practised his Animagus lessons some more. After lunch, they went for a spin around London on the motorbike. Tea time passed, and Harry laid down his head to sleep that night without any word from Professor Dumbledore.

to be continued...