They Shook Hands: Year Three (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Three

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

Chapter Four - The Man In The Paper

Harry took a deep breath. Okay, so he had taken a wrong turn in the Floo. Okay, so he didn't know where he was. Okay, so he was in a creepy wizards' shop that might as well have had a sign posted reading "Dark Arts Supply." He would just have to get himself out of here.

A stooping man with greasy hair hanging in his face came walking out from the back to man the counter. "Yes? Oh. No children without parents, thank you."

"I go where I like," Harry said contrarily, doing his best to imitate Draco's cool demeanour. That was good, act like he'd come in here on purpose.

"Do you now?" the greasy man questioned in a voice just as oily.

Harry gave the man his best Professor Snape stare. "I do."

The man bowed in acquiescence. "Very good, young master. How can Borgin help you today?"

With his impulsive statement that he went where he liked, Harry had trapped himself. Harry had no idea what one asked for in a Dark Arts shop. He didn't even know enough to take a guess. He chose to keep his hard stare on the man, Borgin.

Borgin seemed quite nervous now. He was obviously unused to young patrons in his shop, and Harry's attitude was clearly unsettling to him. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

Harry pointed imperiously to the withered hand on the cushion. "Tell me about this."

"The Hand of Glory, young sir. Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder. Best friend of thieves and plunderers. Fine item, very fine."

Harry made no comment, though he filed the information away for future use. A Hand of Glory would be just the thing for sneaking around the school. He glanced at a long coil of hangman's rope, but a magnificent opal necklace glittering on a wooden torso looked extremely interesting. A small sign read, Caution: Cursed -- Has claimed the lives of nineteen Muggle owners to date.

"I don't think much of your shop," Harry said to break the silence. "For all I've heard about it, I expected more." That was a bold-faced lie; Harry still had no idea what shop he was in.

"My best wares are not on display, young sir," Borgin bristled. "Were I to know the general direction of your inquiry, I could be of more assistance. Can I show you some knives? Perhaps you need an obsidian wand?"

"Poisons." He blurted the first thing that came into his head.

"Yes, I have the finest selection in England. Allow me to fetch my lists."

As the man turned to rummage through a drawer, Harry gave serious thought to bolting like a rabbit. He glanced at the door, but before he could move it opened! A small bell clanged, announcing the new customer -- Lucius Malfoy!

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been found!

"Ah, Mister Malfoy, do come in. I was merely answering the idle inquiries of this boy."

"Mister Borgin," Mr. Malfoy said urbanely. "Do speak of my young friend with more respect."

Borgin coughed. "No offense meant, sirs, no offense."

"We must speak soon, Borgin, but I have other business to attend to at the moment."

"Always a pleasure, Mister Malfoy."

Harry followed the older man out into the dingy alleyway. The whole place seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but just opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads. Two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders.

"Where are we?" Harry asked quietly.

"Knockturn Alley," Mr. Malfoy answered just as quietly. "This is a place where people don't ask questions."

They passed in front of a shop selling poisonous candles. What appeared to be a hag was standing in the shadows holding a tray, the contents of which were probably better left unidentified.

"What happened? How did I get here?"

"I suspect that you spoke your destination too hastily. You went one too far and landed in Borgin's shop."

"How did you know where to find me?"

Mr. Malfoy smiled. "Borgin and I do quite a bit of business. It is fortunate that he didn't throw you out. Some of the denizens of this place would be all too glad to do you harm."

"He tried," Harry admitted. "But I stared him down."

Mr. Malfoy chuckled. "Well done."

Harry could see the pillars of Gringotts Bank just up ahead. He resisted the urge to run towards the light, to leave this dim and dirty place behind. Instead, he walked calmly beside Mr. Malfoy to where Mrs. Malfoy waited with Draco and Elan.

"Harry, you're okay!"

"It's only a dirty alley loaded with Dark Arts shops, Draco," Harry deadpanned. "Nothing to worry over."

"That's funny." From Draco's tone, he didn't think it funny.

As they climbed the steps of Gringotts, Harry noticed a rather large poster pasted on the pillars. It featured the man from the front page of the Daily Prophet, Sirius Black. His eyes burned angrily from sunken wells in his face, from under his long, matted hair. Harry shivered, though the day was, as he had suspected, very warm.

The queue was surprisingly empty, so they stepped right up to the first counter. Mr. Malfoy placed a golden key on the counter. "Lucius Malfoy, vault six hundred nine."

"Harry Potter, vault six-eight-seven, please," Harry said, laying his key beside it.

The goblin inspected both keys carefully before handing them back. "Griphook, take them down."

Harry took his seat in the cart with trepedation. The awful Gringotts carts were more than dizzying enough to help one throw up all over the place. It hadn't happened to Harry yet, but it had been close.

Only Mr. Malfoy got into the cart with him. "Narcissa, please take the boys to Madam Malkin's. We're going to occupy quite a bit of her time today, I believe. Best to start early. We'll be along soon."

"As you wish, Lucius."

The cart started to roll, and so did Harry's stomach. He held on for his dignity as the awful cart flew down the metal rails with a vicious speed. They screeched to a halt, and Harry collapsed against the side. All he could do for a moment was breathe and pray.

"Six-oh-nine." Griphook took the key from Mr. Malfoy and unlocked the vault. The contents of the vault made Harry's eyes bug out of his head. Gold Galleons and silver Sickles were stacked in huge columns. Bars of solid gold and a brighter, silvery metal were criss-crossed in the corners. Gemstones of a hundred colours sparkled in the torchlight. It was wealth beyond conception.

"Wow," was all Harry could think to say.

"Generations of careful attention to detail," Mr. Malfoy told him. "There are many who would try to take it from us."

Mr. Malfoy removed a black velvet pouch with a silver drawstring from his pocket. With a wave of his wand, a small mountain of coins disappeared into the pouch. Though it seemed no fuller, Mr. Malfoy put his moneybag back into his robes.

Harry's wealth, the grand piles of money he'd once thought so enormous, had grown even more in the last year. He dumped out the coins he still carried, throwing the silver and bronze into respective piles. He took only Galleons.

When they got back up to street level, Harry was glad for the fresh air and sunshine. Nifty as it might be to get to one's money by taking a barely controlled ride in a goblin-driven cart, there were no visible safety precautions in place. It was something Harry was glad he only had to do about once a year.

The first place he wanted to go was Quality Quidditch Supplies. If he was going to waste time, he intended to do it early. He was practically running in order to keep up with Mr. Malfoy's long strides, and his face dropped when he saw the huge crowd gathered around the shop.

Mr. Malfoy smiled down sympathetically at Harry as they walked by. "Not to worry. I'm sure you'll get your chance."

"I want to go, but I also need to buy things in there," Harry replied.

Getting new robes was a tedious affair, involving much standing still and being told not to fidget. Harry's fittings alone took nearly an hour, and there was quite a line when he and the Malfoys were finished their business. Harry arranged for his robes to be sent by owl, and gladly gave up his place on the stool to the next boy in line, whose mother kept saying, "Wesley, be patient."

Draco was just as eager to go off on their own as Harry was, but Mr. Malfoy was hearing none of it. "If you hadn't noticed, boys, there's an escaped maniac on the loose. It would be foolhardy to allow you to roam unprotected."

"But Father-"

"Draco, is it possible for you to obey me just once without this babyish protesting?" Mr. Malfoy demanded. "I am your father, and you will do as I say. You'll be a man soon. Act like it."

Draco paused to think before he spoke. "Yes, Father," he said contritely.

Mr. Malfoy was not the only parent keeping a close watch on his children. Everywhere Harry looked, groups of students had several adults hovering nearby. Harry saw dozens of those Wanted posters pasted everywhere. He almost walked right past the Apothecary, wallpapered as it was with pictures of Sirius Black.

Once inside, Harry made sure to select only the most perfect specimens. Professor Snape, the Potions Master, had told them countless times that the quality of the potion was reflective of the ingredients, and Harry valued the man's opinion. Draco finally had to drag him away from a display of live spiders that Harry had no practical use for, but still thought would be neat to have -- just in case.

"Where to now?" Harry asked, still trying to justify purchasing a few great, hairy spiders.

"Flourish and Blotts. We're in luck; it's not very busy."

Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs in the bookshop's front window, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred books that seemed to be alive! Even more strange, the books appeared to be ill-tempered! Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

"What the deuce are those?" he asked.

"Books."

"Shut up, Draco."

"Attack books? Specially trained?"

"Shut up, Draco."

As they stepped through the doors, the manager came hurrying towards them. "Hogwarts?" he asked abruptly. "Come to get your new books?"

"Yes, we need-"

"Get out of the way," the man said impatiently, brushing them aside. He pulled on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and headed toward the door of the iron cage.

"Hang about," Draco said. "What book is that? I really hope we don't need it."

"It's The Monster Book of Monsters."

"Not on my list," said Harry, checking.

"Nor mine."

"Thank heavens!" the manager exclaimed as a look of enormous relief spread over his face. "I've been bitten five times already this morning, and-"

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster Books had seized another and were pulling it apart.

"No! No! Stop! Stop it!" cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart. "I'm never stocking these again, never! It's been pure chaos! I lost at least ten before selling one!"

"Take a deep breath, Flourish," Mr. Malfoy advised. He handed the man a gold coin. "Drinks are on me, tonight."

"You're a kind man, Mister Malfoy. What can I help you with today, then?"

"We both need Intermediate Transfiguration, The Standard Book of Spells - Grade Three, Intermediate Astronomy, A Beginner's Guide to Arithmancy, and Decyphering Runic Structures." Harry was very curious to see his book for Ancient Runes.

"Right this way, then."

With a bag full of books each, the boys led on to Eeylop's Owl Emporium. A large box of owl treats each for Arlette and Regal was added to their purchases, and Harry bought a half-dozen live white mice as well. Now they were finally done with the necessary bits and could head to Quality Quidditch Supplies!

The crowd was still milling around in front of the shop. Harry and Draco pushed through the throng, wondering what could possibly be so interesting. It hadn't been this crowded when the Nimbus 2000 had been displayed in the window. Now a new broom rested in the place of honour.

"Just come out -- fastest broom in the world -- prototype --" came fragments of conversation through the hubbub.

"Irish International bought seven," another wizard said with certainty.

The broom was magnificent. The curvy handle was polished to such a brightness that it was blinding. The tail twigs looked too perfect to be made of wood. A strange metal bit was also attached, a place to rest one's foot; Harry had never seen anything like it before.

Harry was practically drooling over the Firebolt, and Draco wasn't much better. He didn't want to think about how much the broom cost. "Price on request" was a euphemism for "Far too much money".

Inside, Harry purchased his polish and the trimming kit. The only new book he could find was about Keeper tactics, so Harry skipped it. His eyes were drawn, time and again, to the awe-inspiring Firebolt. Finally he could stand wondering no longer.

"How much is that Firebolt in the window?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer.

"Five hundred, twenty-seven Galleons," the manager informed him.

That was a staggering amount of money. All of Harry's supplies two years ago, when he had spent the most, had barely come to twenty-seven Galleons. Even Mr. Malfoy, with the uncountable Malfoy wealth, winced at the pronouncement. Harry had a perfectly good broom; the Nimbus 2000 had been top-notch only two years ago and was still the best broom at Hogwarts. Still...

Harry opened his money pouch, even though he knew there wasn't nearly enough inside. He looked at the Firebolt, feeling a deep yearning to whip through the air at two-forty.

"Harry, you're not considering?" Draco asked.

"I am."

"It's too much!"

"I need speed."

"You already thrash the other teams."

"It's the best. I want the best." Harry turned to the manager. "I need to go get more money. I will be back."

With Draco right behind him, Harry quick-stepped up Diagon Alley. His stomach roiled as he realized the crux of his current dilemna: if he wanted the Firebolt, he needed to go back to Gringotts and ride the cart again.

"Harry, what's wrong? You just turned green." Draco sounded very concerned.

"Up Slytherin," he joked weakly.

"I'm serious!"

"I don't want to go on the cart!"

"So forget it."

"I can't. I won't sleep at night."

Harry did not manage to keep his stomach this time around. Too much jolting motion in too short a timespan finally did him in, and as they screamed to a halt in front of his vault, Harry was leaned over the side, heaving his guts out. There he remained while the goblin opened the vault. Harry wiped bile away with the back of his hand and began stuffing as many Galleons as he could fit into his purse. Draco loitered outside the vault while Harry was busy.

"You are taking a very large amount of money, sir," the goblin, Griphook again, said to him.

"Yes. I need to buy something very expensive."

"Sir could take out a promisory note."

Harry stopped in his tracks, a handful of Galleons clanging to the floor. "A what?"

"The bosses can write you a promisory note for any amount. Parchment is charmed, you see; cannot be faked. Is good anywhere in the world."

"Draco!" Harry yelled.

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell me I could write a cheque!"

"A what?"

"A note, or whatever it's called. Why didn't you tell me I didn't need to come down here again?"

"I thought it would be funny. And I was right!" Draco laughed. "Wait until I tell the others how much you puked!"

Harry didn't waste anymore words. He dove at Draco, tackling him to the ground. The two boys wrestled around for a few minutes before the goblin coughed politely.

"Git," Harry panted. "You manky, instigating git!"

Draco was laughing too hard to respond. He continued laughing as Harry spilled out half of his moneypouch onto the floor and kicked the coins in the general direction of the loose piles.

Harry turned to glare at his best mate. "Keep laughing, Draco. I'll leave you down here."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me, funny man," Harry challenged. He headed back towards the cart -- the awful cart -- and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Thankfully, with his breakfast scattered through the depths of Gringotts, he had nothing more to eject from his stomach.

Getting the promisory note took only a few minutes longer. Harry merely told the goblin at the counter how much it needed to be for, and the creature scurried into the back, returning several moments later with the parchment in hand.

"The bosses thank you for choosing Gringotts."

Harry still felt queasy, so he didn't run back to Quality Quidditch Supplies. He settled for a brisk walk instead. The crowd had thinned slightly, but it was still an effort for Harry and Draco to push through. His guts were churning as he stepped up to the counter to make the most expensive purchase ever -- and for a good long while, too!

"I'll buy that Firebolt now." In his nervousness, he spoke too loudly and his voice cracked.

The noise of the crowd died away, and Harry felt all eyes on him. He stared directly at the shop manager as he laid the promisory note down on the counter.

The manager picked it up and held it out at a distance. His eyes scanned the page, and he made quiet affirming noises. Harry watched him anxiously, knowing in his head that the note was good, but fearing in his heart that something had gone wrong. This was Harry's first time using such an adult thing as a promissory note.

With a flourish, the manager rolled the parchment into a scroll and wrapped a ribbon around it. The scroll disappeared into a pocket of his robes, and the man shook his keys out as he moved towards the front window.

The smaller crowd inside parted to let him through. The lock opened with a loud click, and light gleaming off the Firebolt's diamond-hard shine spilled into the room. The manager carefully removed the broom from the display and placed it in a cushioned, hard-shell case. The larger crowd outside began to shout in amazement, and one of the assistants wisely shut the front door before they could rush inside.

Harry took the case reverently. He was now the owner of the most superb racing broom in the entire world. Harry felt himself grinning. "Wicked," was all he could think to say.

Draco was now suitably sober, and his expression was awed. "Blimey, Harry, I mean, blow me down. I don't believe you actually did it."

"Why wouldn't I? I think one ought to insist upon the best. Isn't that what Slytherin is all about?"

"The best of yourself, Harry, not material goods in themselves," Mrs. Malfoy interjected.

"Boys and their toys," Mr. Malfoy spoke neutrally.

"You've got plenty of expensive toys, Lucius. At least be supportive."

"Do we need anything else here?"

"I already got a tin of polish," Harry remembered, "and a trimming kit."

"You needed those things," Draco said wryly. "Not anymore."

With their purchases made, Harry and the Malfoys left the shop. It was very conspicuous, leaving with the large, broom-sized case, and more than a few dirty looks were directed his way. Harry held his chin high as he moved through the crowd, ignoring them all.

"Where's Elan?" Draco asked. The elder Malfoy brother had gone his own way after Madam Malkin's. With all the excitement, Harry hadn't stopped to wonder what the former Hogwarts prefect had been doing.

"He's right there," Mr. Malfoy told him, nodding across the street. "It appears he's found young Percy."

The cousins were both in black, despite the warmth of the day. Harry went right up to Percy and put down all his packages except the Firebolt.

"Percy!" he exclaimed, offering his hand. "Good to see you!"

"Harry! How have you been?"

"Smashing!"

"What have you got there in such a tight grip?"

"My new broom."

"He bought the Firebolt!" Draco exclaimed.

"What!" Both Elan and Percy had identical, shocked expressions.

"Disgusting, isn't it?"

"Not as disgusting as the price," Harry grumbled. "Lay off."

"Percy, very good to see you."

"Mister Malfoy, sir."

"How've you been, Percy?" Harry was curious.

"I'm getting by," the prefect said with a thin smile. "Mum and Dad didn't quite throw me out of the house, but my brothers certainly let their feelings be known. I thought it was in everyone's best interest to move out."

"Where are you living now?"

"I can't afford my own place quite yet, even though I've been working a lot of hours at the Ministry. My intership doesn't overpay me. I've been staying with Sam and Lawrence."

"Still snogging with Lynn?" Elan asked slyly.

Percy started to flush. "A bit. Jamie?"

"You've been snogging Jamie too?"

Percy flushed some more. "Certainly not!"

"She's not a bad kisser."

"Elan, don't be vulgar," Mrs. Malfoy reprimanded.

"Yes, Mother."

"I have to be going now," Percy excused himself. "Lynn and I are having dinner together tonight."

"Go make yourself handsome, cousin," Elan said encouragingly. "Give Lynn my best."

"I will. Cheers, all."

"Cheers, Percy," Harry responded.

* * *

That night, after dinner, Harry and Draco were situated in the library, hard at work on their summer assignments. Professor Sinistra's task of charting the progress of a comet through the first two weeks of August seemed particularly sinister. They had to find the comet and identify it based on the path as it passed through the various constallations. It was an ornerous project.

"I should have bought that perfect model of the galaxy," Harry said aloud.

"The moving one in the big glass ball? That thing was very impressive," Draco agreed.

"We'd never have to take another Astronomy lesson."

"Now that's the best idea you've had in hours."

"Right behind buying the Firebolt, I'm sure."

"You just will not shut up about it, will you?" Harry had been talking of little other than his new racing broom.

"I can't help it!" Harry exclaimed. "I've flown in God-awful weather conditions; I can handle a bit of darkness!" By the time they had all returned to Malfoy Manor and washed and eaten, it had been deemed too late for the boys to be outside. Harry had been sorely disappointed when told he couldn't try out his Firebolt until tomorrow.

"It's not just the daylight, you know," Draco said casually, tracing down the page with his finger. "There's also the mad Sirius Black on the loose."

"You don't sound like you're worried. Didn't he kill a bunch of people?"

"Muggles," Draco sniffed. "One wizard, to be sure, but Father tells me that he was quite pathetic."

"So why is the Malfoy family worried? You're certainly not even close to Muggles."

"Well he did sort of spend twelve years in Azkaban," Draco pointed out. "He's got to be completely homicidal by now. He might turn on those whom he was once close to."

Once close to? "What?"

"We're not supposed to speak of it," Draco lowered his voice.

"So don't speak of it, Draco," interrupted Elan, walking out from the stacks.

Draco shook his head. "Stop doing that!"

"What are you telling Harry that you shouldn't?"

"I was about to tell him about Cousin Sirius."

"Cousin!"

"Subtle, Draco, very subtle." Elan sneered.

"Well if you wouldn't keep poking in-"

"Hey! Cousin?" Harry didn't let their sibling banter sidetrack the discussion.

"Mother's cousin, to be precise. She was a Black before she married Father. Here, let me get the family tree."

Draco went over to the window and began dragging over a potted Dracaena sanderiana. Harry watched quizzically, and Elan slipped silently out of the library. Draco pulled the plant to the table and went to a shelf and retrieved a large scroll. He pinned the top of the scroll to the bamboo and unrolled it, fastening the bottom as well.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

"This is the family tree. Mother has one sister, and Cousin Sirius had one brother, Regulus. Mother's father was Cygnus Black, and Cousin Sirius' mother was Walburga Black. Cygnus and Walburga were brother and sister."

The Black family was very extensive and very old. Harry traced along the branches with interest. In branches far back, Harry recognized a few names of his fellow Slytherins. He saw Notté, Goodewinter, Parkins, Malfoy, Bulstrode, and even one Black that had married into the Potter family!

"He's my cousin too!"

"And so am I!" Draco exclaimed.

Harry felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. The Durlseys had never been family to him. Not remembering his parents, Harry had always felt alone in the world. That had all changed. It was three generations back before the joining of the respective branches of the Black family tree, and who knew how far back Harry would have to look in order to determine his relationship to Charlus Potter, but he had a blood connection to someone at last!

He stood up, still feeling woozy. He grabbed Draco by the shoulders. "Cousin!" he gasped.

Draco embraced him in a strong hug. "Cousin!" he said in a voice thick with sentiment.

A couple of seconds later the embrace broke apart, each bloke trying to cover his momentary lapse of composure. Harry coughed several times. Draco shuffled his feet.

"The things you learn," Harry said. "I guess books are good for something after all."

"Yes, we ought to get back to this rubbish assignment."

Elan chose that moment to reappear and interject. "You keep at it. Harry, Father would like to see you in his office, if you could spare a few minutes."

Harry gladly put down his quill, which he hadn't yet had a chance to dip in fresh ink. "Write the rest of that for me, would you, Draco?"

"I'd rather be buggered."

Elan's laughter followed Harry as he made his way up to Mr. Malfoy's office on the second floor. At the top of the stairs he turned left and knocked on the door. His fist barely made any noise rapping on the heavy oak. Still, he heard a voice clearly saying, "Enter!"

Harry had been in here once before and been suitably impressed. It was a room with a large desk, a large comfy armchair, portraits on the wall, and lots of interesting things on the shelves: dozens and dozens of books, portraits, masks, jewelry, vials of strange liquids, boxes, and plants. One of the rings glinted in the sunlight. It was a plain gold ring with a blue stone at the centre and strange letters written around it. They shined so, like the sun had specifically chosen to shine upon it.

"Harry, look away!" Mr. Malfoy said sharply.

He wanted to touch that ring in the worst way. He reached out a hand. He was so close!

"Immobulus!" Harry's muscles locked in place! He couldn't move!

Mr. Malfoy stepped between Harry and the wonderful ring. He leaned down to look Harry directly in the eye. "You are fortunate to not have lost a finger, Harry. It is one of the Rings of Solomon, and it is dangerous beyond measure."

Harry wanted to say something, but he still couldn't move.

"Finite incantatem!" His muscles relaxed, though he felt as though he'd had a thorough bout of exercise.

"Why did I want to touch it so badly?"

"It's part of the magic. You need to know the proper spell in order to handle it. Then it is a potent artefact indeed!"

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Harry. Elan informs me that Draco has told you about Sirius Black and his connection to this family."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Malfoy's face grew very sombre. "What he probably did not tell you is going to be difficult for you to hear, Harry. I warn you now, it is awful. I leave the choice to you."

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"

"There is a great deal to the story of Sirius Black, and it involves you intimately. I can give you this knowledge, but I fear that the knowing will severely affect you. I cannot make this choice for you. It must be yours."

This was all very mysterious, and Harry was tired of mystery. He wanted everything to be neat, tidy, and discussed in the King's English. "Tell me."

"Sirius Black betrayed his family, was disowned. He found a new home in Gryffindor. He was very close to your father."

"My father!"

Mr. Malfoy nodded. "James Potter and Sirius Black were the closest of friends at Hogwarts; Professor Snape knew them better than I, but something changed after they left school. When your parents went into hiding, Black was the only person who knew where they were. He betrayed them to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

A dry wheeze escaped from Harry's throat. He felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut. He gasped for air, grabbing the arm of the chair. Black had betrayed his parents!

"He was their friend!" he cried. Harry couldn't believe that a friend would do such a thing. He would never betray his own mates, no matter what. They meant too much to him; he would sooner die. How this Black, this coward, had sunk so low was unfathomable.

Harry felt tears running down his face. It always happened when he thought hard about his parents and how they had died. The tears were part saddness, part firm resolve to avenge them. Now they were tears of anger.

"If he betrayed them, then he was a Death Eater. Did you know about him?"

That question startled Mr. Malfoy, judging from the expression on his face. "If Black was a Death Eater, then he was so secret that I didn't know about it. Not uncommon with him. Information was on a need-to-know basis. He kept that plan a secret."

This was all coming way too roughly for Harry. He sat down in the chair and took a deep breath.

"Harry, I'm sorry I had to tell you this. It's not something a boy ought to be concerned with. But Black is out there somewhere. He is the first man to ever escape from Azkaban prison, and he eluded the Dementors to do so. Black is certainly crazed, and I believe that he is going to try to do you harm. Perhaps he will try to finish his master's work, or he might have delusions that killing you will bring the Dark Lord back; I don't know for a surety. But his sleep was troubled shortly before he escaped, so I have learned. He muttered in his dreams, 'He's at Hogwarts. He's at Hogwarts.'"

Chills were running through Harry's mind. The man who had betrayed his father and mother was on the loose, perhaps hunting down Harry to kill him. He felt a twinge of fear. Thirteen people with a single curse, he remembered. That emotion he shoved away with a firm thought, He betrayed my family. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to see him destroyed.

Of course he didn't know how he was going to do that precisely, but he would just have to figure it out.

Mr. Malfoy was watching him intently. "Now the Ministry has trained professionals on the hunt for Black. Unfortunately the number of Hit Wizards is very low compared to the vastness that must be searched. Tips on his location come in all day long, most of them falsified. He arranges it, you see, to tie up our resources. Black is a very clever individual, and it's that trait I would advise you to keep in mind. Most of all, I want you to promise me that you won't go looking for Black."

"Why would I do that?" Harry asked automatically; he'd been thinking exactly that.

"Vengeance," Mr. Malfoy said intensely. "But a thirteen year old wizard is not about to kill a powerful magic user like Black. I implore you to stay at Hogwarts where it is safe and let the Ministry do its inefficient job. Professor Snape will ensure that no harm comes to any of you."

"Very well," Harry reluctantly agreed. "But what about Hogsmeade? I won't be left out of going to Hogsmeade Village." The only all-wizarding community in Britain was allowed to be visited on certain weekends through the school year by students in third year and above provided they had a signed permission slip. "And that reminds me, I have to have a signed form."

"There will be no Hogsmeade Village, I'm afraid. I am not your legal guardian, so I cannot sign the form. Additionally, even were I authorized to sign, I would not do so. Black is too dangerous to take needless chances. It's an inconvenience, I know, but your life is more valuable than anything you can buy in a shop. If you must have something, give the money to one of the others. Though I daresay a few of them will find themselves in the same predicament."

Harry knew from the sternness of Mr. Malfoy's voice that there was no appealing this decision. He scowled, not happy at all. "So long as I'm not the only one, I guess I can tolerate it."

He walked out of the office, knowing that if he got much more "enlightenment" he would hex somebody. He didn't remember ending up out by the fountain, but as he stared into the bubbling waters a firm resolve was building in his heart.

"One way or another, I am going to destroy you, Sirius Black," Harry vowed to the night. He knew Black couldn't hear him, but Harry felt better for having warned the evil wizard. When the time came, there would probably be little time for words. Harry would need to destory Black quickly, before the clever wizard could turn things around.

"I don't care what it takes. You will pay for betraying my family."

to be continued...