Intersections

Chapter 7: Families

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets, nervously walking back home as quickly as he could. Although it was only 4:30 when he had left from Hermione's house, the sky was already dark and the air quite icy. He could swear that he had heard footsteps behind him again, but every time he turned around and tried to catch the person in the act, all he saw were the surrounding houses and the streetlamps that dimly lit the pavement. Whoever was following him wasn't even casting a shadow. Frowning, Harry darted an anxious glance behind his shoulder and tried to calm his breathing as a soft thump sounded in the bushes across the street.

Stopping, Harry peered at the bushes curiously and was met with a pair of great glowing eyes that resolved themselves into a very large but starved-looking black dog. The dog whined, bounded across the street, and began nudging Harry's legs, its tail wagging excitedly as it drooled all over Harry's jeans. Harry looked down at the dog in confusion and slowly reached out a hand to pet it on its head. "Aunt Petunia's going to kill me," he muttered, and he crouched so that he and the dog saw eye-to-eye. The dog licked Harry's face enthusiastically, and Harry scratched the back of its ears absently, checking for a collar. There was none. "Are you the one who's been following me all this time?" Harry asked wonderingly. "Where did you come from?" Little Whinging was not the sort of neighborhood where stray animals were tolerated - it was too perfectly manicured, and besides, Harry thought mockingly, 'what would the neighbors say?'

The dog growled low in its throat, continuing to nudge and lick Harry's face and neck as if it had found its owner. Harry hoped that the dog didn't have fleas or rabies - he didn't want to be turned into a lunatic, frothing at the mouth for the rest of his life. "Hi, dog," Harry said, feeling extremely silly and standing slowly. The dog looked up at him, panting. "Erm - boy, or girl, whichever you are, you can't really follow me home. My aunt doesn't like dogs, so I can't let you into the house." He tried to make shooing motions away from his body, but the dog tilted its head as if it didn't understand.

Harry sighed. He took a few steps forward and stopped, shaking his head when the dog followed him. "No, erm, bad dog," he said, pointing behind him. "You have to go the other way." The dog whined, nudging Harry's damp knees, and then it lay down its head directly in front of Harry's feet. Harry felt a stab of pity as he saw how thin the dog was - it reminded him of long weeks in his cupboard with the barest amounts of food. "All right," he said, bending down and patting its head. "I'll hide you in the greenhouse; it's warmer than outside. Come on, dog, follow me."

The dog must have comprehended him, because it stood up quickly, its tail wagging furiously once more, and trotted beside Harry until they approached the corner of Magnolia Crescent and Privet Drive.

Nothing could have prepared Harry for what happened next. A red jet of light shot out from somewhere behind them. The dog jumped on top of Harry, knocking him to the ground and growling as the light missed its fur by inches and hit a lamppost instead, denting it with a resounding clang. Harry looked up, momentarily disoriented, and realized with horror that the dog was turning into something else - something human!

"AGH!" Harry screamed as the weight on his body shifted and cracked into the form of a skeletal man with filthy, matted black hair, waxy skin, and haunted grey eyes.

"Run!" the man snarled, jumping up and holding a wooden stick that Harry now recognized as a magic wand.

Harry scrambled backward as another red jet of light flew past his ear. The man deflected it with a brief white shield similar to what Harry had created at Stonewall, yelling, "Run, Harry!" Harry's eyes widened at the use of his name, and he gaped at the man for a moment before dodging another jet of light and jumping behind the front wall of the closest house. A cacophony of light and sound raged in the street as two masked wizards dressed in long robes - Death Eaters, Harry realized with a chill - stepped out from the shadows and fought against the dog-man using shouts of Latin and magic. Soon, a bald, black wizard who looked eerily like Harry's maths teacher, Mr. Rowle, also joined the fray. Harry saw the two Death Eaters fall simultaneously after being hit with jets of red light. Long silver ropes slithered from the wands of the dog-man and the Mr. Rowle look-a-like and knotted themselves tightly around the Death Eaters' bodies.

The two remaining wizards then instantly pointed their wands at each other and froze.

"Come quietly, Sirius," the look-a-like said in a deep, calming voice. Harry started - it even sounded like Mr. Rowle.

The dog-man's face split into a wide grin that reminded Harry of a dog baring its teeth, and then the man began to laugh hysterically, though his wand steadily pointed at the other wizard's chest. "You're an Auror now, eh, Shacklebolt? Good for you. We always knew you were going to be the voice of the law."

"Quietly, Sirius, or I will have to force you," Shacklebolt said calmly, his wand also never wavering.

"I want to talk to Dumbledore first," Sirius said, a desperate edge to his voice. "I have to talk to Dumbledore. Harry has the mirror."

Harry's hand jumped convulsively to his pocket.

Shacklebolt did not look fazed. "I'm taking you to the Ministry, Black," he said, and he flicked his wand so quickly that Sirius barely had a chance to enact a white shield in front of his body. The red light bounced off the shield and hit Shacklebolt square in the chest. He hit the ground with a loud thud, and Harry worried for a moment that he had cracked his head open. Sirius then pointed his wand at himself, shimmered briefly, and disappeared into the background of the street. Harry heard two Latin phrases being muttered from Sirius' spot. Shacklebolt woke up, standing up and looking around as if he were confused, and spotted the Death Eaters lying on the street. Grabbing each one by the arm, he disappeared with a loud CRACK! that sounded very much like a gunshot.

Harry yelped when someone invisible grabbed his arm. "We have to get inside," Sirius muttered in Harry's ear, releasing his arm, and when Harry stood, there was a large, battered black dog panting at his feet. The dog jumped over the wall, wagging its tail impatiently, and began walking down Privet Drive. Harry followed warily, a million questions running through his mind. Could he trust Sirius, who apparently could also turn into a dog? How did Sirius know his name? What was an Auror, and why did Shacklebolt look and sound exactly like Mr. Rowle? Did he work for the Ministry of Defence? Why were there Death Eaters on Magnolia Crescent? What did the red light do? Why did Sirius want to talk to Dumbledore so badly? Was it safe to let Sirius near his house? Why hadn't the neighbors noticed any of the magic on the street?

Harry tensed as they approached Number 4. The dog - Sirius - jumped over the wall and ran around toward the back. After a moment's hesitation, Harry followed, hoping that his aunt wasn't looking out the windows as she normally did. Sirius stopped at the door of the greenhouse, two inches away from the living room, and looked up at Harry. Harry pushed open the door and stepped into the cramped, humid space, Sirius on his heels. Sirius then transformed back into a man, grabbed Harry's arm tightly, and cast a series of muttered spells that made the air glow blue and white briefly before settling on a pale yellow that illuminated the building. He then turned Harry toward him and crushed him into a smothering hug. "Oh, God, Harry!" he cried.

Harry coughed violently against the tattered, smelly rags the man was wearing, struggling to step backward. Sirius released him, keeping a tight grip on his shoulders, and looked at Harry with a rather hungry look. Harry's breath quickened, and he stared at Sirius fearfully. What did the man want?

"You look just like James," Sirius said hoarsely, pure wonder on his face.

Harry blinked. James was his middle name, but he didn't know where it came from. "Do I know you?" he asked, confused.

"Oh - I'm your godfather," Sirius answered, baring his teeth into a frightening, crazed smile.

"My what?" Harry's eyes widened. The Dursleys had never been religious, so he wasn't quite sure what the godfather's duties were (Dudley didn't have one), but if it was anything like that American movie Uncle Vernon had once watched on the telly...

Sirius' face fell. "I don't expect you to remember me," he said, "you were only a baby."

"Er..." Harry didn't know what to say. "You knew my parents?"

"Yes," said Sirius, visibly brightening, "James was my best friend." His eyes shadowed, and he dropped his death grip on Harry's shoulders suddenly, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, angrily muttering under his breath. Harry chanced a glance at the door, wondering how far he could run before Sirius caught him, but curiosity kept him rooted to the ground.

"James..." Harry said hesitantly, and Sirius snapped to attention. "James was my father?"

A confused look passed across Sirius' face. "You don't know your father's name?"

Harry shook his head. "Or my mother's." Color rose in his cheeks as Sirius stared at him incredulously, and Harry averted his gaze in embarrassment. "Nobody ever told me," he muttered, kicking at some stray dirt on the floor, and he started violently as Sirius pulled him into another smothering hug, gasping for air when he was released.

"Do you have that mirror?" Sirius asked, once again holding Harry's shoulders with a death grip that made the boy wince. Harry pulled the mirror out of his pocket, and Sirius took it with one hand, looking down at the mirror with a fond, wistful smile. "James and I used to use this during detentions." He looked up at Harry with a sharp, unnerving gaze. "How can I reach Dumbledore?"

"You say, 'Albus Dumbledore,' and then 'lemon drop,'" Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm even though he was panicking inside. He didn't know if Dumbledore wanted anyone to know about the mirror. What if Dumbledore refused to teach Harry magic because Harry had betrayed his trust? Why was Sirius so desperate to contact him?

"Thanks, mate," Sirius said cheerfully, and he stared into the mirror. "Albus Dumbledore. Lemon drop."

A moment later, Dumbledore's voice thundered throughout the greenhouse. Harry flinched slightly at the volume. "SIRIUS BLACK! HOW DID YOU GET THIS MIRROR? WHERE IS HARRY?"

"He's right here, Professor," Sirius answered with a cheeky grin, "right across from me. He gave me the mirror. Temporarily, of course." The expression on his face became grim, and he spoke in a rush. "Dumbledore - I didn't betray them. It was Peter. We switched at the last minute. I would never do that to James and Lily. Please, Professor!" Sirius' face already pale face whitened noticeably, and he took ragged breaths as he looked into the mirror imploringly, his eyes practically popping out of his head. "You have to believe me! Peter is still out there somewhere working for Voldemort! He cut off his own finger, he's an Animagus and can turn into a rat! You have to find him!"

"I can hardly believe a Death Eater," Dumbledore replied coldly. "Show me Harry. I want to know that he's alive and safe."

Sirius turned the mirror around sharply and pushed it into Harry's face. "Harry," said Dumbledore, looking extremely concerned, "are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

Harry shook his head, glancing up at Sirius, who was looking at him with an expression of raw and painful desperation. He didn't know whether or not to believe that Sirius was a Death Eater - he hadn't worn masks and robes like the others. "I'm fine, sir. I swear. Who is Peter?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply as Sirius launched into an angry rant filled with curses under his breath. "That is a story for another time, Harry," the headmaster answered, his eyes flickering, "but suffice to say, you must not trust Sirius for now."

Harry felt a flash of annoyance. Who was Dumbledore to say who he could or could not trust? Sirius had saved Harry from the Death Eaters - as far as Harry could tell, and while the man did seem a little bit insane, he hadn't hurt Harry so far, just tried to get him somewhere safe. "Why not?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"He is dangerous," Dumbledore said shortly, "he is a fugitive from the wizarding prison of Azkaban. Harry, when you can, get inside your house and stay there."

Sirius turned the mirror around abruptly. "I'm innocent, Dumbledore," he growled, "the Ministry threw me in without a trial. I know you've got Order members after me - let them take me to headquarters, wherever they are, not the Ministry. I'll take Veritaserum, I'll tell you what really happened." His gaunt face softened. "I just wanted to see Harry," and he looked up at Harry with something akin to pride. Harry stared back at him, a confusing warmth spreading throughout his limbs just as two wizards burst in through the door.

"STUPEFY!" they roared in unison, and two red jets of light hit Sirius in the back. He dropped to the ground with a loud crash, causing some of the potted plants to tremble. The thin silver ropes then encircled his body like they had the Death Eaters'. Harry recognized one of the wizards as Shacklebolt, while the other was a square-jawed man with straw-colored hair, who plucked the mirror out of Sirius' hands and looked at it curiously. "Dumbledore?"

"Take him to headquarters," Dumbledore ordered.

The square jaw dropped. "But the Ministry -"

"Headquarters," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "We have some questioning to do."

Shacklebolt walked over to Harry, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, squinting. "Mr. Rowle?" he asked hesitantly.

Shacklebolt grinned. "That's one name to call me," he said, passing the mirror to Harry, and he bent down, grabbing one of Sirius' shoulders while his partner grabbed the other. "Get back inside the house, Harry, you'll be safe there," Shacklebolt ordered, pointing his wand at the ceiling and extinguishing the pale yellow light throughout the greenhouse. The three wizards then disappeared with a loud CRACK!, leaving Harry standing alone in the darkness.

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Hermione snatched the phone receiver as it rang shrilly, biting back a sigh of irritation. She had tried to ring Harry five times after dinner, and each time she did, Harry's aunt had spouted some gibberish about needing to take out the trash or wash the dishes before hanging up abruptly. Hermione knew that the woman was rude, but she didn't expect her to have such horrible phone etiquette.

"Er, hello?" Harry asked from the other line. "Is, er, is this Hermione?"

"Oh! Sorry, Harry, yes, it's me," Hermione said. "I've tried to ring you five times tonight. Did your aunt tell you I called?"

"Oh - no, she didn't," Harry answered, sounding very tired. "I - er - I just wanted to tell you that...er...Mr. Rowle is a wizard. A wizard named Shacklebolt."

"I'm sorry?" Hermione said disbelievingly. "Mr. Rowle? The - the maths teacher at Stonewall?"

"Yeah. It's a long story...er...I was walking home from your house, and some Death Eaters tried to attack me, and...Shacklebolt, I mean, Mr. Rowle, saved me."

Hermione got the feeling that Harry was leaving something out, but she didn't want to press him for now. "Death Eaters? Voldemort's followers? They...they were here?"

"Yeah, I reckon Dumbledore was right about Voldemort being after me again," Harry said sarcastically, "unlike some people who thought he was lying."

"I was trying to make sure it was safe!" Hermione exclaimed, hurt.

Harry was silent for a moment. "I think you had a point, though, about Dumbledore being a little fishy. I think he's hiding something."

Like you, Hermione thought, but she pushed it away. "Why do you say that?"

"Shacklebolt wasn't the only one who saved me from the Death Eaters. There was...someone else."

"Another wizard?"

"Yes. Sort of."

"Who?"

"A man named Sirius Black."

Hermione's eyes widened. There had been warnings about Sirius Black on the evening newscast for the past week. Apparently, he was wanted for the mass murder of over thirteen people in the autumn of 1981, and he was considered extremely dangerous. "Sirius Black is a dangerous fugitive, Harry," she said slowly.

"Wait, how do you know that? Dumbledore told me he was a fugitive in the wizarding world, but -"

"Haven't you seen the news lately? He's a mass murderer."

"I...er..." Harry sounded sheepish. "I don't normally pay attention to the news."

"You're lucky to be alive, then," Hermione said sharply. "You could have been killed! Did he try to hurt you?"

"No. He just wanted to talk to Dumbledore using the mirror, so I let him. He told Dumbledore that he was innocent, then Shacklebolt and another wizard came and captured him. They're gone now."

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. "You could have been killed!"

"I'm fine," Harry insisted faintly. "I'm a bit - tired. Why did you ring me earlier?"

"Oh -" Hermione bit her lip. She'd originally called to talk about delaying the beginning of their magical training until GCSEs were over, but now that Harry had been attacked by Death Eaters and approached by an accused murderer who was also a wizard, the suggestion didn't seem at all reasonable. The earlier they learned how to defend themselves with magic, the better. "It's not - I mean - it's silly, it's nothing," Hermione said hurriedly. "I just thought - but -"

"Erm...spit it out, Hermione," Harry said, sounding confused.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I was going to ask if you could talk to Dumbledore and ask him to start the magical training after our GCSEs are over," she said in a rush, "but I - I take it back. I think we should leave right away."

"You're going with me then," said Harry, questioningly.

"Yes," said Hermione, and in that moment, the resolve that had faded away during dinner with her parents came back, much stronger than before. "It's the right thing to do." She sighed, pondering how she was going to break the news to her parents. They had managed to convince her to think about taking her exams first, and Hermione suspected that they thought that was all they needed to deter her from learning magic at all. After all, she had always been focused on her studies and her plans to go to university, and they didn't have a reason to see a change in those plans. Then again, they weren't the ones who believed in magic and felt it running through their blood when rat-faced bullies tried to kiss them.

"Hermione? Are you still there?"

"Oh - yes, I was just thinking about my parents," she said awkwardly.

"Oh...erm..." Harry paused uncertainly. "Have you...erm...told them you're going to leave?"

"Not yet," she said, a weird feeling twisting inside of her at the thought of approaching her parents with the topic again. "I will. Soon."

"Good luck, then," said Harry sincerely, and she smiled.

"Thanks. Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas. See you on Boxing Day." He hung up.

Hermione walked upstairs to her parents' bedroom, relief and dread warring within her as she steeled herself for the upcoming confrontation.

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"Well," Hermione said to herself as she sank down onto the bed, "that went well." Relief washed over her, and she smiled.

Her parents had been surprisingly open about her announcement to leave on Boxing Day. They'd agreed to take her to Harry's house, but they wanted to talk to the wizards who were coming to pick her and Harry up. "Just a few questions, you know," her mother said airily, which made Hermione a little bit worried. Her mother's questions were always sharp and unavoidable; they'd spoiled her father's plans for surprise gifts and parties more than once.

Hermione's father was still rather disbelieving of the fact that she had magical powers and wanted to learn how to use them, but after Hermione had told him about the attack on Harry, he'd said that it would be good to learn how to defend herself, though he didn't quite approve of using magic wands to do so. Hermione knew that on Boxing Day, her father would also treat the wizards to a heavy interrogation - he'd always threatened, jokingly, to do that if she ever got a boyfriend, but she knew he was serious about this. She was his only daughter, after all, and he was very displeased with the strangers who had decided to take her away.

"Hermione?" Her mother poked her head in the doorway. "Can I come in?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course, Mum." She looked up in surprise at the bundle of wrapped gifts was carrying. "What are those?"

"Your friends from Witsford stopped by our old house and gave them to me before we left," her mother answered. "They're your Christmas gifts."

"Oh," said Hermione, and she realized with a panicked twinge that she hadn't any gifts for any of her friends. "I didn't get them anything -"

Her mother gave her an odd look. "Unless I'm mistaken, you gave them all of their gifts a week before we left. You had a farewell dinner, remember?"

"Oh, right," Hermione mumbled sheepishly, blushing. So many things had happened since she'd moved to Surrey. Her old life in London seemed so distant now.

"You're not to open them until Christmas Day," her mother warned, setting the gifts onto Hermione's desk, "but you can open our gift tomorrow."

Hermione smiled sincerely as she thought of the Christmas Eve tradition. "I can't wait," she said, and her heart gave a horribly guilty twinge at the thought of leaving her parents so soon. It must have showed on her face, because her mother enveloped into her a tight hug, stroking her hair gently.

"Your father and I love you, Hermione," the woman said, "no matter what decisions you make." She looked into Hermione's eyes. "We will always be there for you, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mum," Hermione said, with a feeling of guilty relief.

"Good." Her mother brushed a strand of Hermione's hair off her face. "Now get to bed, because it's getting late."

Hermione nodded and followed her mother out into the hallway to use the bathroom.

On the desk, for a brief moment, one of her gifts glimmered with a wavering light

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Harry was flying on a broom, giggling in a baby's voice as someone chased him around the back garden. He tried to take a look at the world around him, but he was zooming around too fast, and he felt - free. Free like the wind.

"Sirius Black, get him down right now!" a female voice snapped.

Someone caught him, and he squirmed a little as the blurry images around him resolved themselves into a woman with long auburn hair and green eyes similar to his own. She held out her arms, and suddenly he was nestled against her shoulder. He gurgled and looked at the man across from her. Black hair, grey eyes, a bright and laughing smile and an tall, elegant gait - a younger, happier version of the dog-man, the fugitive, Sirius Black.

Why am I a baby? Harry thought in the back of his mind, and then, Is this my mother who's carrying me?

"I don't know why you thought it would be a good idea to buy him a broomstick for Christmas," the woman scolded. "You know he shouldn't ride it until he's a year old!"

"But he's a natural, Lily," said a male voice from behind her. Harry held out his arms as he saw the man who looked almost exactly like him.

"Da!" he shouted.

Harry's father grinned and scooped him up from Lily's arms. "Aren't you, Harry?" he asked, and he ruffled Harry's hair as Harry scrunched up his face and squirmed. "Well," said Harry's father - James, thought Harry in a brief moment of consciousness - "I approved of the idea, Padfoot."

Sirius Black grinned, and not in the crazed way Harry had seen in the greenhouse. "That's my job as godfather, Prongs," he said, "to spoil the little bugger rotten."

"Bu'er!" Harry exclaimed, giggling.

"Sirius! Did you really have to -" Lily sighed, and she shook her finger at Harry with a frown. "Don't use that word, Harry."

"Bu'er?" Harry repeated, confused, and Sirius let out a hearty laugh which died as soon as he took a look at Lily's face.

"All right, all right," said Sirius, holding his hands up, "I'm sorry, Lily." He winked at James. "I must be off - Dumbledore wants to know about my dear cousin Bellatrix's wedding, which was held at the Lestranges' manor. Thinks they're using it as a Death Eater base."

"Be careful," said James, his voice rumbling through his chest.

"I'm always careful," Sirius said with a strained laugh, and he disappeared without a sound.

"Time for your nap, Harry," said Lily, and James carried Harry up a set of stairs into a nursery with moving pictures along the walls. Harry wailed as James set him down, and stood up inside the crib.

"Da! Da! Ma!"

"Shh," Lily whispered, bending down with a smile, and Harry stopped crying as he looked into her eyes and felt her hand stroke his cheek.

And suddenly his mother was standing with her back toward him, her arms spread out wide as a green light hit her and she fell. Harry screamed as an ugly, monstrous face looked at him, pale white skin stretched over a snake-like face with red eyes. A wand was pointed directly at his forehead, and then his world was enveloped in green light and blood was dripping down his forehead and all he knew was a pounding pain...

Harry woke with a start as Uncle Vernon angrily slammed the door open.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he barked, flicking the light switch. "It's three o'clock in the bloody morning!"

Harry sat up, rubbing his forehead and trying to ignore the headache that threatened to engulf him as the brightness hit his eyes. "Nothing. Sorry. Nightmare." He curled his knees to his chest, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach.

"Hm," Uncle Vernon muttered darkly, and he lingered in the doorway unexpectedly. "Well - I suppose - you, ah, you wouldn't want to talk about it?"

Harry's head jerked up. "What?" he asked in astonishment. Uncle Vernon had never asked Harry such a question, even when he was a child. His uncle had been acting a bit nicer lately, but...

Uncle Vernon grunted, narrowed his eyes, and then left the room, leaving the light on. Harry climbed out of bed to turn the light switch off, cold sweat running down his back. He was certain that he had just had a flashback - the house and the crib and the people in it felt strangely familiar, like a memory that had been locked away. He closed his eyes, thinking. His father had looked exactly like him, but his mother had had the same eyes. She hadn't looked like Aunt Petunia at all, either - she'd been much prettier. Harry smirked at this small triumph. And Sirius Black had been younger, brighter - and he'd said something about Dumbledore and Death Eaters...they must have been working together to find out information about Death Eaters. Sirius had said something about a cousin with a weird name...Harry grasped at the dream as it faded away, and remembered with a chill the last part of it. He'd been dreaming about the part for years, but never so clearly so that he could remember it. The snake-man must have been Voldemort, and the green light the Killing Curse that Dumbledore had mentioned...Harry felt nauseous. Had he just remembered watching someone trying to kill him?

Harry tossed and turned until pale winter sunlight filtered through his windows, signaling the beginning of Christmas Eve.