They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Four

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

Chapter Seven - The Dark Mark

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Sirius was shaking him. Harry came awake groggy and fuzzy.

"Get up. Get dressed. We've got to go. Now. Don't forget your wand, and bring your broom."

"What's going on?"

"Trouble."

Harry pulled on the dark green robe he'd been wearing last night. He strapped his wand holster to his belt and picked up his trusty Firebolt from the pillow he'd left it on. The diamond-hard polish reflected a gleam of light from the lamps as he exited the tent.

The celebrations were still going on. The Irish, it appeared, were still all riled up. But there was also another sound. Terrified screams came from the edge of the camp ground. Black smoke rose against the sky. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A small crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them. They didn't seem to have faces. Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. Tents crumpled and fell as the laughing wizards marched on. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small. The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the camp site manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers, and she struggled to cover herself up as the wizards screeched and hooted with glee.

"Stay close to me, Harry. Do you understand?"

Harry felt as though he were in a trance. Those were Death Eaters. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. They were still around, and they'd found some Muggles to torment. The smallest Muggle child began to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Death Eaters. And they'd come to him, practically marching up to his front door.

"So what's the plan? I figure I'll go in from the right, you'll cover me."

"Nice try, Harry. We are getting out of here. The Ministry will handle this."

Harry worried about that.

Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"Time to go. Head for the trees."

They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the centre, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The coloured lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air.

Sirius wasted no time in urging Harry to continue on. They were forced to slow down as Sirius nearly tripped headlong over a tree root. The ground here was too uneven for running. They settled for a brisk walk.

"Harry? Is that you?"

"Draco?"

"Yeah."

Sirius turned sharply. "Where are your parents, Draco?"

"They went to go help."

"Help who? The Ministry or the Death Eaters?"

"The Ministry, of course, cousin. Father said something about having warned 'those damn fools' as he ran off. Mother told me to stay put and went after him, but the tent got trampled, and I was ejected from it. I followed the crowd out here."

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Draco chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily.

"Enough of that talk," Sirius snapped. "There's deliberate terrorism being done down there to helpless people. They've done nothing to harm us, and have in fact helped put on this bit of sport we all enjoyed a few hours ago."

"They're only Muggles. Muggles have certainly done enough to wizards through the ages."

"These Muggles haven't!"

"Yeah, and the ones who have haven't done anything to me either, but they would. If they knew what I was, what we are, and what we can do, they wouldn't hesitate to burn me at the stake. I'm only a child, yet they would murder me in a fashion most horrific for the simple crime of having been born special."

Sirius looked ready to tear his hair out. Draco's argument was most cogent. If one paid attention in History of Magic class, as Harry did, one learned all about the witch hunts of the Muggles. Wizarding folk had lost many lives because of the fear Muggles placed on magic.

Draco wasn't done. "If you're equating death by burning with some old lady with her bloomers showing-"

"I'm not!" Sirius practically snarled. "But there is still such a thing as decency and respect. If, as you say, we're so superior to Muggles, shouldn't we act it? So we have abilities they don't. So what? I won't try to deny that there's a lot of ugly in Muggle society, but does that give us license to behave in kind? That is ignorant thinking!"

Draco's expression flashed from mild exasperation at the stupidity of an adult to profound contemplation. Harry knew his best mate thought himself very superior. Sirius' words attacked his whole notion of what it truly meant to be better. Harry had seldom seem Draco with nothing to say, and watching him slowly process the argument was very interesting. Eventually he started nodding.

"Yeah, that's a good point, cousin." Draco said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual sly snark. "I hadn't thought of it that way. Just because they wrong us, it doesn't right the wrong if we do it back. Instead, it only compounds things."

"Eventually they'll get there," Sirius promised. "They've come a long way, but they're not there yet. Which is understandable," he said with a wink, "as they've had to do it without magic."

Draco chuckled at that. "Very well, cousin, you win."

"Oh good. I love winning."

There was a crashing in the darkness, and Harry heard a girl swearing as good as a boy. He grinned as Ginny Weasley limped into view. She had scratches on her face and tangles in her hair from a losing battle with a shrubbery.

"'Lo, Weasley," he called easily. "Looking good."

"Potter?"

"None other. Are you okay?"

"Near enough. Is that Malfoy?"

"He and Sirius are exchanging life lessons."

"Is he learning to not be a royal prat all the time?"

"No hope of that," Harry chuckled. "You all by yourself? Where are your brothers?"

"They went to help the Ministry. I didn't want to take one of them away babysitting me, so I bolted for the trees."

"Brave of you."

"They're the ones who're brave. They're running towards the trouble. I was running away."

Just then, something vast, green, and glittering erupted from from the treetops and into the sky. For a split second, Harry thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then he realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. Harry didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign.

"The Dark Mark!" Sirius gasped, drawing his wand. Harry did likewise. Draco looked panicked and pointed his wand in every direction. Ginny paled, but she armed herself as well.

Harry bit his lip. The Dark Mark was Voldemort's symbol, used to terrorize the country fourteen years ago. It meant death, destruction, and evil. Seeing it in a book hadn't conveyed the awful feeling it raised deep in his gut. He tore his eyes from the sky and peered into the forest around them. He saw nothing. Aside from the terrified sobs of a few witches and wizards who had been overcome, all was quiet.

Sirius cast Harry a quick, appraising glance. "Definitely qualifies as an emergency," he muttered. Then his eyes flashed to Draco. "Never manage the both. Don't dare leave you behind either. Where'd she come from?" He spoke up, his voice sharp and commanding. "Stay close, children. Do nothing unless I say so. It could mean your lives. Find some cover. Now."

Harry and Sirius put their backs to a pair of close-standing oak trees. Draco threw himself to the ground behind a rocky outcropping that was only about waist-high. Harry didn't see where Ginny concealed herself. Sirius peeked around the curve of the tree in the direction the Dark Mark had been fired from. All was still quiet.

Harry's heart was thumping in his chest from all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. In the dimness of the night forest, his other senses were sharper to compensate. Insect noises gradually returned as Harry's pulse slowed.

"Sirius," he whispered. "I think it's over."

"You may be right. But it's better to be ready."

Several minutes later, during which Sirius still refused to put his wand away, an announcement was made by Ministry officials that out-going Portkeys were being activated. People gradually filtered back to the ruined camp site and salvaged what they could. In a limping, stuttering manner, the attendees of the Quidditch World Cup headed home with a tale that they would never forget.

* * *

A twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops rounded out the article nicely. Harry and Sirius were reading their separate papers over breakfast. It would more properly be called lunch, but after the late night they'd had, Harry had been just as glad to lie in.

"Gamey bastards," Harry complained bitterly, meaning the Death Eaters. "Why'd they have to go and ruin everyone's good time?"

"No normal sense of a good time, I'm afraid."

"Quidditch is a wizarding sport. I thought they were all about the superiority of pureblood wizards. Why would they cause trouble?"

"Because they could," Sirius snorted. "And they did, with no consequences."

"Someone ought to do something about them."

"The only Death Eaters not locked up in Azkaban were cleared of all wrongdoing by the Ministry. There was doubtless a lot of 'donations' to help rebuild after the war, and everything was swept under the carpet." Sirius' tone left little doubt as to what he thought about such back room dealings.

"But what if we knew who was involved last night?"

"But we don't."

Harry shook his head. "Yes, we do. One person, at least. Weren't you listening when Draco said that his father said he warned them?"

"I'm sure he knows everyone who was wearing a mask last night, but Lucius will never give up his confederates, even if he wasn't joining in."

"I don't think he was," Harry tried to persuade. "I was there when he warned a man he called Selwyn. Draco and I got into camp just as the conversation was ending, but Mister Malfoy told this Selwyn to go back to his mistress. Selwyn told him to loosen up a little and then Disapparated."

Sirius' face grew shrewd. "Selwyn, eh? Well, I reckon I should drop a few people an owl and see what kinds of trouble I can cause for the unfortunate Mister Selwyn. I'm very good at causing people trouble."

"Do it," Harry urged. "If he really was wearing a mask last night, I want him to pay. He's a criminal, and he's been living free all this time. It's not right!"

With this encouragement, Sirius went to the drawing room to write his letters. Harry headed up to his room. He reached into his trunk, which he'd left at the foot of his bed, and pulled out a box of owl treats.

"Hey Regal!"

Harry's eagle owl was sleeping on the ironwood owl perch that Harry had received a few weeks ago from Tim for his birthday. He peeked one eye out from under his wing. He spied the treat and immediately stretched to his full height. He hooted softly and clapped his beak several times. He lifted up his feet one at a time, almost doing a little dance.

"Sirius has a lot of letters he's going to need delivered. I know I can trust you to make sure they all get there quickly. It's really important stuff, I promise."

Regal seemed to almost be quivering with excitement. Harry realized that he hadn't sent a letter to anyone in almost a week. Poor bird probably thought I was neglecting him.

"This treat is for now, and I'll make you loads of bacon when you get back."

Regal disposed of the treat in three quick crunches, nearly getting a bit of Harry's finger in the process. He then shook himself vigorously and jumped off of his perch. With loud flapping of the wings, he exited the bedroom and flew down the central shaft to the drawing room.

Harry picked up his workout bag and headed to the second floor weight room. He placed his favourite Wand Smasher album (Fireworks By Night) in the crystal slot and began performing his stretches. He started with a vigorous fifty sit-ups, fixing his feet to the floor with a Sticking Charm.

He was in the middle of a set of push-ups when Sirius arrived, looking quite pleased with himself. He began to stretch and calmly said, "I don't think there will be any more worries about Mister Selwyn. I made an anonymous tip to the Aurors, and I've sent a personal note to Director Bones that will self-combust once she's read it. They'll get him. He won't get away again."

"Good." Harry was pleased. "How soon will he go to trial?"

"Knowing Ministry bureaucracy, who can say? But he will be tried, at least." Sirius sounded very bitter, and Harry could fully appreciate his feelings. No amount of gold could replace the time he'd lost or the scars he'd been given.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry said, stopping his push-ups and resting on his knees.

Sirius shook his head strongly. "I'd go back tomorrow if it would protect you, Harry."

"You won't ever have to," Harry promised. "I don't think I could live with myself if you got hurt because of me."

Sirius didn't respond at first. "James said the same thing when we first conceived of Fidelius. He wouldn't have it, he said. He wouldn't ask another to become Voldemort's target. What he didn't understand was that I wasn't waiting to be asked. My best bloody friend in the whole bloody world was marked for death, and he wasn't going to ask me to be Secret Keeper. I had to bully him in to it, you know."

"How'd you do that?"

"I played dirty and told your mother the idea."

"How very sneaky of you." It was almost Slytherin.

"I thought so. Well she wasn't fond of it either, but she was worried about you. She could duel with the best, but a baby in your arms makes for lousy dodging, so she eventually decided to go into hiding. I almost think James would have been Secret Keeper for just the pair of you, but Lily put her foot down. James wasn't going to risk his life if she couldn't risk hers. He turned right to me with the most anguished look I've ever seen and said, 'Padfoot, you're the truest friend a wizard could ask for. I need your help. Will you keep our Secret?'"

"I agreed, of course. I had to protect my godson, after all." Sirius smiled. "Later, when we realized the target I would become, we brought Wormtail into things. Moony, I'm disgusted to say, we thought was a spy."

"We all make mistakes, Sirius," Harry said consolingly. "You did what you thought was right. I couldn't ask for more than that. Nobody is right all the time."

"Not even Slytherins?" Sirius asked slyly.

Harry groaned, but inwardly he sighed in relief. "No, not even Slytherins," he replied, glad Sirius could make a small joke.

"Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that. Now, are you ready for your lesson?"

"Am I ever."

"Now then, usually the best a wizard can do is transfigure a part of their body for a particular purpose."

"Like giving myself a forked tongue."

"Well, I suggest you start with a bit you think you might be able to spare, should things go wrong. Perhaps your left hand, or a foot?"

"Get on with it," Harry ordered with grin.

"You could give yourself claws if you needed to climb a tree, for example. Now these transformations are not permanent. They require intense concentration and control in order to maintain. A certain few very powerful wizards have been able to achieve a full-body transfiguration, and use the form for a short time, but the effort strained them greatly. The Animagus transformation is different in that you don't need to hold yourself in the form. It feels perfectly natural."

"How do I change back?"

"We'll get to that. Also remember that your human mind will still be controlling the musculature. You're not going to know how to fly, for example, if you tried to turn your arms into wings. You'd have to figure it out the same way a bird does. I don't recommend it. They get dropped from their nests."

"So I'm actually going to change my body, not just stretch?"

"You are indeed. Give yourself chicken legs."

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"That's the whole point. If anyone ever caught us, we could just explain it away as a prank. Chicken legs, Harry."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry imagined a pair of clawed chicken feet. The nails scratched the ground. Three toes in front, one toe in back. Chicken.

* * *

"Come in!" Harry said to the knock on his door.

"How goes the packing?" Sirius asked, surveying the piles of clothing.

"Miserably. The trunk is just too small. I'm trying to figure out what to leave here. It's hard. I've never had stuff to leave behind before. I wouldn't have wanted to, either."

Sirius studied the trunk with an appraising eye. "I think this thing is too shabby to accept the spells. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Upstairs."

Sirius dragged a square black trunk out from under his bed and began to empty it out on to the floor, which was very clean.

"My parents bought me this trunk when I got my Hogwarts letter. It's much bigger inside than out."

"Wicked," was all Harry could say.

The first compartment had robes of all colours and styles. These hung themselves neatly in the closet with a wave of Sirius' wand. He closed the trunk, tapped it twice, and opened it to reveal very untidy stacks of books.

"My school things. There's nothing in there you'll want, I wager."

"Hold on! I'll take the books. Even if I have them already, I know a girl who doesn't have a lot of money. Even one book would help." Harry felt a bit of responsibility towards Ginny Weasley. He'd told her older brother Percy that he'd make sure she had a home in Slytherin.

"That's awfully decent of you," Sirius declared.

The third compartment was empty. Sirius showed Harry how to switch from one compartment to the next with a series of taps. He also showed Harry the key to the Locking Hexes.

"Thanks, Sirius." Harry was very appreciative of this present.

"You don't have to be afraid to leave stuff here, though," Sirius told him. "This is your home now."

"I know. And I will leave some things. But even what I'm taking wouldn't fit in the old trunk."

"You might remember that the third compartment is good for hiding evidence, should a prank go horribly wrong."

"Duly noted," Harry laughed.

"Need some help packing?"

"I'd like that."

Harry's belongings fit quite tidily into the two main compartments. Harry stored his Firebolt and Quidditch supplies in the last space. Sirius then took the opportunity to show Harry a Shrinking Charm, which frustrated Harry for nearly three hours before he got it right. The reversal took nearly a whole day.

When 1 September came, Harry shrank his trunk and donned his helmet with excitement. Sirius brought the motorbike to life with a roar that split the air. Harry climbed on and whooped with delight as they sped away.

The ride to King's Cross was over far too quickly. Harry climbed off regretfully, and Sirius locked down the motorbike. Casually, Harry walked with Sirius towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Sirius put his arm around Harry, turned, and stepped back into the illusory wall.

Harry had always closed his eyes when passing through the barrier. The short tunnel was a cascade of purple light, and a picture of the station hung in the air, and ahead of them was Platform & 3/4.

"Too tally," Harry breathed with awe.

On the platform, Sirius restored Harry's trunk.

"I'll send Regal up this evening. Thanks again for the loan."

"No problem. Bye, Sirius." Before he could let his nervousness stop him, he reached out and grabbed Sirius in a quick hug. Sirius was startled, but he relaxed instantly and squeezed Harry right back. It felt so good, Harry didn't want to let go, but they were on a public platform, and he was not about to make a scene.

Manfully clearing his throat, Harry lifted his trunk and boarded the train. He pushed it down the cars of the Hogwarts Express, looking for some of his friends. Pansy had claimed a compartment towards the front of the train, and Harry stashed his trunk in the adjacent empty compartment before joining her.

"Hey, Pansy."

"Good morning, Harry. Was that a new trunk?"

"Very good eyes."

"And pretty?" she demanded.

"And pretty."

"How come Draco doesn't tell me so more often?"

"He should."

Pansy giggled. "You're so sweet, Harry. I can see why Blaise won't give up on you."

"I wish she'd stop already. Do you know how many times I turned down a date?"

"Yes," Pansy said bluntly. "She wrote reams about each one to me. It was a huge waste of ink and parchment, honestly. I told her to give it up after three letters. Sorry I couldn't help."

Draco picked that moment to walk in. "Pansy, Lady of the Raven Hair." She reached out her hand, and he kissed the back of it.

"Draco, my champion."

"Hey, mate."

"Harry. Not a word about you know what."

Harry nodded. "Right."

"What?" Pansy asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Draco said.

"Draco," she warned.

"Pansy?" he sassed back.

"What are you talking about?"

"I didn't say a word about anything."

"Malfoy!"

"That's the name. Yours too, if our parents have their way."

"Right now, that's disgusting. Talk to me, you git!"

"I'll give you a talking to," Draco answered menacingly. "I'll talk at you in Latin."

"Not if I stitch your mouth shut. I've been schooled in all manner of household charms."

Draco mulled that thought over, and when he spoke again, his tone was more respectful. "Pansy, I cannot tell you what I was referring to. I promised my father."

Pansy frowned at Draco, but she didn't push any further. She proceeded to talk to Harry and ignore her boyfriend as he sat down next to her. She went back to the topic of Blaise.

"I don't know what to tell you about Blaise. I'll keep trying to talk to her, and Millie thinks boys are icky like that, so she'll help too. Maybe Jenna as well."

"Thanks, Pansy. Do you think it would help if I started fancying someone?"

"Hard to say. She might see that as a challenge."

Any further discussion was aborted, for Blaise arrived at that moment. She levitated her trunk up on to the rack and sat down next to Harry.

Why?

"Hi, Harry! Hi, Pansy! Malfoy."

"Still irked at me, eh Zabini?"

She sniffed haughtily and turned away.

"So as I was saying," Pansy said, "I wonder who the new Professor will be for Defence."

"Father says it's old Mad-Eye Moody."

"The Auror?"

"The same," Draco confirmed. "Looks like Dumbledore found another good teacher. I'm impressed, given the curse on it."

"It certainly does seem real," Harry agreed. None of their teachers in this subject had yet lasted a full year.

The rest of the gang filed in to the compartment just then, and they all hung out the window to wave goodbye to parents and godfathers as the train departed the station.

to be continued...