The Grim and his Boy

THE GRIM AND HIS BOY

Chapter 1: What If...

ooOoo

"Lumos," Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of Number Two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them, Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

Harry stepped backwards. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed hard, in the gutter.

Next moment, Harry almost let out a scream as a giant dog, the owner of the mysterious eyes, materialised to stand threateningly over him.

"N-nice doggy," Harry stammered, realising as he uttered the words, how completely stupid they were. Yet, to his relief, the dog retreated a little, and ceased to appear menacing. After a minute, Harry felt it was safe to escape, and he began to rise. To his utter shock, as soon as the dog realised what he was up to, it disappeared, leaving a tall, ragged man with sunken eyes and filthy, matted, elbow-length hair, tangled around a gaunt face with a waxy, sick complexion in its place.

"Bloody hell," whispered Harry, for most of his voice seemed to have been stolen by fright. "You're that escaped convict aren't you? You're Black!" Harry had recognised the man he'd seen on the television almost immediately.

"Yes," croaked Black, his voice apparently hoarse from disuse.

It came as no little surprise to Harry that, for once, his uncle had been right - 'Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!'

Harry's eyes widened and he furtively stretched out a hand, feeling for his wand. He tried to think of a way to distract Black from what he was doing, and voiced the first thought that came to mind. "I - I didn't know you were a wizard."

The convict snorted and muttered: "So, Fudge is even using Muggles to find me, hey?"

Harry's searching hand finally came into contact with his wand and he snatched it up gratefully. Black followed his movements and seemed to flinch a little; nevertheless he stared Harry straight in the eye, evidently searching for, and finding... something.

"You have so much of James in you," he said, almost wistfully. Harry was suddenly glad he was lying down; if he hadn't already been on the ground he was sure he would have fallen. The last thing Harry had expected when he'd stormed away from the Dursley's was to come face to face with an escaped murderer who just happened to be a wizard, and had known his father!

"You... Dad... I... How?" stuttered a bewildered Harry, making another half-hearted attempt to clamber from the gutter.

"Yes," said Black, smiling slightly, which made his face look less wasted. "I knew your father. I knew him very well," he added almost to himself.

"Come on," continued Black, offering his filthy, nail-bitten hand. "Let's get you out of there."

Harry didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, albeit a little less forcefully than he would have liked.

Instead of answering, Black sighed and plonked himself down beside the nervous boy.

"I came to find you," he explained quietly.

Harry's jaw dropped and he sat up quickly, then scrambled to his feet and began backing away. Suddenly, the small thirteen-year-old felt a lot more than simply nervous.

"Don't leave," croaked the convict. Harry was sure he'd imagined the hint of despair in the man's voice. "I'm not going to harm you."

"Why'd you want to find me then?" asked Harry somewhat suspiciously.

"I..." began Black. "I'm not sure why I came here-"

"Here?" interrupted Harry, feeling confused and wondering if Black knew what he was talking about. If he'd set out to find Harry, then coming to Privet Drive was the obvious place to go; it was where he lived after all.

"Mmmm. I was planning to talk to you in Hogwarts. I guess I just wanted to get a look at you before I set off." Once again the man seemed to be talking more to himself than to Harry. The boy noticed that the convict's voice was getting stronger, less crackly with use.

"But why'd you want to find me at all?"

Black sighed and looked at Harry for a long time, with an expression on his face that could only be described as 'unhappy'.

"You deserve to know the truth," he whispered, coming to a decision at last. "Sit down and I'll give it to you, as much of it as I know myself. Don't interrupt please," he requested. "This story is going to be hard enough to tell as it is."

After a slight pause, the man began. "I was at school with your father..."

Once he'd started it seemed as if Black couldn't stop. It was as though a dam had broken. The words began to tumble from his lips, tripping over each other in a frantic attempt to be heard. "We were good friends, best friends, along with two others: Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew," Black's face harboured a thunderous expression as he said the latter, the name of his friend spat out of his mouth as if it were poisonous.

"We were inseparable from the first; Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. The Gryffindor Marauders. When we found out Remus, was a werewolf-"

"A what?" exclaimed Harry, unable to stop himself.

"Don't interrupt!" reproached Black.

"Sorry."

"We didn't hold it against him," continued Black, his hard look making the boy feel guilty although he couldn't understand why.

"Instead, we became Animagus," the convict said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Of course, Peter needed a little help from me and James," he said, almost maliciously.

"What's an-" inquired Harry, forgetting for a moment his vow of silence.

"An Animagus is someone who can turn into an animal at will. One which best reflects their personality."

"You're a dog aren't you?" realised Harry, glad some things were starting to make sense at last. "Padfoot?" he ventured, a little less sure.

Black gave a slight chuckle. "Right on both. How sharp you are. So very like James-"

"What animal was he?"

"James? He was a stag. Prongs," answered Black.

"So, Remus is Moony, ha! Moon! I get it. You're Padfoot and Dad was Prongs. So Peter... he was Wormtail?"

"Correct. Peter the rat! How very fitting," growled Black, instantly appearing a lot less approachable.

"Fitting? How?"

"Because he's the reason your parents are dead!"

"But Voldemort! He was the one - he... he was-" spluttered Harry.

"Of course he killed them," Black said. "But it was Peter who sold them, and you, to Voldemort!"

Harry stared at the man sitting beside him, unable to speak. He didn't think he would have known what to say even if he had been able to.

"Have you ever heard of the Death Eaters Harry?"

"No," he said, confused.

"That was the name given to Voldemort's followers. Some were forced into servitude, but others," Black said grimly, "went willingly. Peter was one of them."

"Wait a minute," began Harry hesitantly. "If you were all friends with my dad, then wouldn't Peter have been in Gryffindor?"

"Not all people who went bad were in Slytherin, Harry. In fact many weren't. People just seem to forget those more easily."

"But why would he betray my parents?"

"I don't know and I don't care! I just want to commit the crime I was sent to Azkaban for!"

"What crime?"

"I was sent there, twelve years ago, for the murder of Peter Pettigrew. A crime I wish to God I'd committed!" he growled again.

"Then you aren't a murderer?" asked Harry tentatively.

"No," confirmed the convict with a humourless laugh. "I was framed for that. Peter faked his own death and left me to take the blame. For everything. You see, your parents knew Voldemort was after them, so they went to Dumbledore for help. Dumbledore knew of an old, old spell called the Fidelius Charm, which concealed a witch or wizard's whereabouts as long as the Secret-Keeper, didn't reveal their location. Naturally, being James' best friend, they chose me.

"Well, that was fine, until I began thinking," Black smiled incredulously. "Wouldn't it be safer to make Secret-Keeper someone whom nobody would even think of? Someone we still trusted, but was not as obvious a choice? Someone like that small, insignificant, traitorous little-" Black cut himself off abruptly.

"Well, anyway, James and Lily reluctantly agreed, and about a week later they were DEAD!"

Harry jumped involuntarily at the unexpected shout.

"Of course I hunted everywhere for Peter," Black said, looking away and taking a deep breath. "And I confronted him, in the middle of a street full of witnesses. Wormtail shrieked some rubbish about me betraying Lily and James, and then he cut off his finger-"

Harry let out a low cry of horror.

"-And changed into his Animagus form," continued Black as if he hadn't heard. "Of course, I was blamed for Peter's 'death' and James and Lily's. But then, I was partly to blame..."

"That's horrible," Harry gasped. "Didn't you tell them? At your trial I mean. Surely there's some sort of truth test-"

"That's just it," interrupted Black, bitterly. "I didn't get a trial."

"But doesn't everyone? Surely the wizarding world isn't so far behind that..." Harry trailed off uncertainly.

"These were in the times of Voldemort, well, just after," amended Black, glancing at Harry's scar. "Everyone was afraid, and anyone accused of being a Death Eater was treated unfairly. With the crime I had supposedly committed... Well," he said dryly, "Let's just say that I had no hope."

"But that... that's terrible!"

"Twelve years of waiting in hell," the convict murmured quietly. "Now finally I can get - you don't happen to know any Weasleys do you?" Black interrupted himself, his tone suspiciously even. For a moment Harry was too shocked to do anything but stare.

"I'm not sure what year they're in, but I think one's in yours-"

"I know them," Harry said at last. "Ron Weasley's one of my best friends and-"

"Does he have any pets?" Black questioned sharply.

"Er... yes," confirmed Harry slowly, unsure where this conversation was going. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," answered Black nonchalantly. Perhaps he'd realised it would be unwise to push the young teenager too far too soon. "Where are you heading to?"

Harry had a strong suspicion that Black was trying to change the subject, but he let it drop anyway. He'd become a little uncomfortable at the direction their conversation was heading. Besides, Harry wasn't too sure he knew where he was going himself.

"I thought I'd try to get to Diagon Alley," Harry explained. "Live there for a while and see what happens."

"But what about Hogwarts? Something wrong with the castle?"

"Oh no, Hogwarts is great, it's just, I don't think I'd be allowed back," Harry said sadly, not meeting Black's eyes.

"Why ever not?"

"Because I've just blown up my aunt," Harry revealed in a small voice.

The teenager looked up, startled when Black made a small choking noise. Harry simply stared as the older man dissolved into peels of laughter, his malnourished frame rocking with the force of his chortles and a few tears escaping from his dark eyes.

"S-sorry," Black managed, when he'd calmed down a bit. "I suppose that explains a lot. Listen, I don't think they'd expel you for that. I mean, people have done worse in the past and just gotten away with a detention, I don't see why you'd be any different."

"Yes but I've done this sort of thing before," Harry confessed. At Black's inquiring look he explained. "Last year, me and Ron flew his dad's car to school. We were er... seen, by Muggles, and we got into heaps of trouble..." he trailed off, faintly embarrassed.

"You flew a car to... I don't think even we managed that!" Black said in an admiring voice.

"Dumbledore was really angry, and Snape was furious-"

"Snape? What's that slimy bastard got to do with anything?"

"He's our Potions Professor," explained Harry, intrigued at the force with which Black seemed to dislike the man. "But what's that got to do with...? Hang on, of course!" said Harry, slapping his forehead. "You would have been at school with him. He's always going on about how arrogant and stuck up dad was," Harry said, scowling at the thought. "And if you two were friends-"

"Why that greasy git! He's got no right to talk to you about James. That ungrateful little slime shouldn't be allowed near you!"

Harry privately agreed but didn't say anything. He thought of what Hermione would think if she caught him badmouthing a Hogwarts' teacher, even Snape, in front of an almost complete stranger. So Harry once again thought of a way to divert Black's attention, this time away from thoughts of everyone's least favourite teacher.

"What's your name?"

"What? You mean I haven't told you yet?" Black asked, shocked.

"Nope," Harry grinned.

"Sirius. Sirius Black." Sirius reviled.

This time it was Harry's turn to break into uncontrollable laughter.

"What, you mean like the dog star?" he gasped.

"Yes," Sirius chuckled. "A bit of a coincidence isn't it?"

"Rather!"

They sat in an almost comfortable silence for a few moments before Sirius ventured to break it.

"How exactly were you going to get to Diagon Alley?" he asked curiously.

"Fly," answered Harry, shrugging.

"Listen, I'll show you a trick," Sirius grinned. "Stick out your hand, with your wand, and pretend I'm your pet." and with that, Black transformed and once more a great, scruffy dog stood in front of Harry.

The teenager didn't have much time to contemplate the meaning of Sirius' words because, with a deafening BANG, something large materialised behind him. Harry whirled around and was confronted by a bright purple triple-decker vehicle with The Knight Bus written in gold on the windscreen. A tall, pimply young man in a purple conductor's uniform stepped out, and, barely glancing at Harry, recited in a bored voice: "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening."

"Oh," said Harry, too shocked to come up with anything more intelligent.

"Well come aboard then," exclaimed Stan impatiently. "Don' make us wait 'ere all night!"

Harry grabbed his trunk and headed for the door, Sirius following calmly in his wake.

"Er, the dog's with me," Harry explained apologetically, seeing Stan's surprised glance. "Don't worry, he's very well trained."

"'E'd better be, else it'll cost you extra," warned the conductor. "'Ere, I'll take that!" he said, pointing at Harry's trunk.

"Er, thanks," said Harry gratefully. The trunk was too heavy for him to lift, and judging from Stan's painful grunts, the trunk was heavy for the older boy as well.

As Harry climbed into the Knight Bus, Sirius padding behind him, he stared in amazement at the rows of brass beds and curtained windows, wood-panelled walls and candles. He started as he heard a crash, and turned around to see Stan holding his back and groaning, Harry's trunk lying on the floor in front of him.

"Thanks," Harry said, hoping nothing was damaged.

"Where'd you want to go?" asked Stan when he'd recovered enough to speak.

"Diagon Alley," answered Harry.

"Woss your name?"

"Er, James Dudley," Harry improvised, saying the first name that popped into his head.

"Righ', that'll be eleven Sickles. If you want 'ot chocolate or 'ot water bottle an' toofbrush, that'll be extra."

Harry looked at Sirius then opened his trunk. Thankfully noting that there wasn't any visible damage, he rummaged around until he found his money pouch and took out a handful of coins.

"How much for two hot chocolates and toothbrushes?" he asked.

"Er, let me just think..."

While Stan was thinking, Harry chose a bed near the front and he and Sirius sprawled on top of it gratefully, glad of a chance to relax.

"Fourteen Sickles," Stan calculated at last. Harry handed over the amount and Stan handed him his ticket.

"Righ' James, this 'ere's Ernie Prang," Stan began, pointing to the driver of the triple-decker. Sirius let out an amused sounding wuff.

"Ern, this 'ere's James Dudley an' 'is dog. Woss your dog's name?" Stan asked Harry.

"Er, Paddy," the boy invented. This time the large dog yipped, obviously laughing.

"Righ' Ern, this is James an' Paddy. Take it away!" There was another loud BANG. Harry and 'Paddy' were pushed back onto their bed by the force.

"Don't the Muggles hear?" asked Harry breathlessly, attempting to keep his balance on the many sharp corners.

"They don' listen do they," answered Stan scornfully. "Don' look neither."

"We're in Wales again," called Ernie. "Better wake up Madam Marsh, Stan."

"Wales!" said Harry in surprise. "Exactly where does this bus go?"

"Everywhere," said Stan proudly.

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere," confirmed Ernie.

"Wow," Harry muttered as Stan went up the narrow wooden staircase, presumably to wake Madam Marsh.

"So, where're you from?" Ernie asked, as he navigated around buildings and narrowly missed running over a few pedestrians.

"Hogwarts," Harry answered firmly.

"Oh I used to go there," Ernie said, wistfully. "Hufflepuff. You?"

Harry noticed Sirius perk up at the question.

"Gryffindor," Harry said proudly. Sirius seemed to grin happily. He definitely licked Harry's hand affectionately.

"Oh you're one of that bunch are you," Ernie said. "Not a bad lot, heart's in the right place, but a right bunch of idiots sometimes, if you take my meaning," Ernie obviously had no idea how offensive he words might seem, but Harry knew the old man meant no harm. He remembered some of the foolhardy stunts he, Ron and Hermione had pulled over their first two years, and thought that he rather knew what Ern meant. So Harry simply nodded the affirmative.

"'Ere we are," said Stan, leading a faintly ill looking witch in a travelling cloak down the narrow staircase.

After Madam Marsh stumbled off the bus, looking rather relieved, Stan handed Harry and Sirius their hot chocolates and toothbrushes. This done, he went to sit behind Ernie and unfurled a copy of The Daily Prophet and, turning to the middle, began to read

Harry glanced at the front cover and felt his jaw drop. 'Black Still At Large', he read. The man lying next to him was making headlines not only in the Muggle world, but the wizarding world as well. Disjointed sentences jumped out at Harry: '...lives in fear of a massacre... Thirteen people with a single curse'.

"Sirius?" He hadn't realised exactly how much was at stake until now.

Black sat up and growled softly, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the paper. Harry wasn't sure if Sirius could read in his Animagus form, but it was obvious the man got the general drift.

"Yeah, bad business tha'," commented Stan. "Reckon your dog has the righ' idea," he said, nodding at Sirius who was still rumbling menacingly.

Harry looked at Sirius too. Guessing what the growl really meant, he laid a reassuring hand on the dog's back. The growling didn't stop, but at least Sirius seemed to calm down slightly.

One by one the passengers disembarked, until only Harry and Sirius were left.

"Righ', next stop, Diagon Alley!"