Mad Dog

The story so far: Harry runs away from Privet Drive, having inflated his Aunt Marge. As he stops for breath, he sees a large, savage looking dog. But he doesn't trip over the pavement, and he doesn't summon the Knight Bus. Instead, he meets Sirius Black, who tells him why he has escaped from Azkaban.

With nowhere else to go, Harry travels with Sirius Black up to London, and to the Black household at 12, Grimmauld Place. Now read on ...

Ron's bed was empty when Harry woke the next morning. It must be late then. Harry, stirred, stretched, and climbed out of bed. Reaching for his glasses, and slipping them on, he gazed out of the window: outside, it was a bright, clear, sunny day, and his spirits lifted. He had spent too long in the dark, dank confines of Grimmauld Place. But here the sun shone down onto trees and fields, the sky was clear and blue, and the breeze was just enough to stir the leaves.

He looked down at the chair by the side of his bed: his clothes had been folded neatly – indeed, it looked as though they'd even been washed and ironed whilst he'd been asleep, and knowing Mrs Weasley, he could well believe that. He enjoyed having clean hot water in the bathroom – the water at Grimmauld Place was still a rather rusty brown – before dressing and going downstairs.

Even the kitchen was empty when Harry investigated, although it wasn't long before Mrs Weasley came bustling in, carrying a basketful of vegetables fresh from the garden.

“Breakfast, Harry?” she asked briskly.

“I don't want to be any bother ...”

“You know better than that. Now sit down.” What he hadn't bargained for was the interrogation as Mrs Weasley began to prepare the food. “Tell me about Ron and yesterday.” Her tone was a little sharp.

“It was my fault, Mrs Weasley.”

“Why your fault?”

“Well - because I wrote to him, and asked him to trust me, and to come to Grimmauld Place and bring Scabbers. And not to tell anyone.”

“You knew you were leading him into trouble,” she said, fixing him with a gimlet eye.

“Well, yes, up to a point. You see, Sirius Black was after Scabbers, and Scabbers was with Ron, and if I hadn't done something about it, anything could have happened ...”

“And Sirius Black? How come you spent a week with him at that house?” asked Mrs Weasley, with a swift change of tack.

Harry suppressed a sigh. “We met just after I'd run away. And don't ask me about that just yet. He'd actually been looking for me, to see whether I was okay, then we met up, and we talked, and I believed him.”

“Hm. Arthur told me about the business with your aunt. We need to talk about that too. But you believed him - just like that?”

Harry suppressed another sigh.

“Well, not quite. Not at first. But what he was saying did seem to make sense. And it turned out to be true.”

“Hmm.” She put the plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him. “Well, I suppose it did turn out all right in the end. But it all seems very risky to me.”

Harry avoided giving an answer by stuffing his mouth with food. He gave it another thirty seconds, then asked, “Do you know what's happening? With Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew?”

She shook her head. “You'll have to wait until this evening when Arthur gets back. And when you've finished that,” nodding at the plate of food, “you can tell me all about your aunt and uncle.”

Harry chewed very slowly. Fortunately he was saved from further questioning by the loud arrival of Ron and Ginny from the garden, and Mrs Weasley was obviously loath to interrogate him further in front of her two youngest children. Harry then used the opportunity to escape with them after he'd finished eating.

Ron had, of course, told Ginny all about their exploits of the day before, but now they wanted to know more about why he'd blown up his aunt.

“What's wrong with those people?” Ginny asked, at the end of the story.

“They hate anything to do with magic. And that includes me,” said Harry grimly. “Uncle Vernon calls us 'freaks'. One thing's for sure, I'm not going back there again.”

“You could come and live here, with us!” exclaimed Ron.

And Harry noticed the light in Ginny's eye as Ron suggested this.

“I'm not sure it'd be fair on your mother,” Harry mumbled. Truth to tell, much though he liked the Weasleys, he wasn't sure he wanted to be living there full time. They weren't family - but then, he didn't have any family other than the Dursleys.

“Well, where else would you go?”

“I dunno,” sighed Harry. Hogwarts? It didn't really set out to be an orphanage as well as a school. And being only thirteen, he'd need a guardian of some sort. And he didn't see McGonagall or Dumbledore in that light. It didn't seem as though he had an awful lot of choice. The Weasleys or the Dursleys? Well, put that way ...

Mrs Weasley called them all in for lunch, which was dominated by the twins wanting to know what being with a mass murderer for a week was like. Mrs Weasley insisted – rather half heartedly – that Sirius wasn't really a mass murderer, and that things might not be hat they seemed, but it made little difference to Fred and George. Percy stayed aloof from the conversation.

Harry was grateful to get back out into the sunshine after a week of the gloom of Grimmauld Place. He and Ron and Ginny spent the afternoon in more innocent and relaxing pastimes than he'd enjoyed so far that summer. They got out some of the old family broomsticks for a general fly about. That was something Harry had really missed – flying. And his Nimbus was still back at the Dursleys. He hadn't been able to pack that in his hurry to get out, and wondered how he was going to get it back.

Ron began speculating about whether Sirius had really meant it about buying him a new broomstick.

“No that I'd take it from him, of course,” he said, “but one of the Cleansweeps would be good. I mean, they're not the best – not like the Nimbus – but they're not at all bad.”

Harry had the very strong feeling that if Sirius did walk in clutching a broom as a present, Ron wouldn't turn it down.

Mr Weasley hadn't come back from the Ministry by six o'clock that evening, so Mrs Weasley sat all the youngsters down for supper by themselves. It was nearly another hour before Mr Weasley returned, and he was not alone. Sirius was with him, looking pale and exhausted.

Harry rushed up to him. “You've been let out?”

Sirius gave him a tired smile. “Well, I've been let out for the moment. On probation, so to speak. Now they've found out Pettigrew's alive, they're re-opening the case, and this time they'd better do it properly.”

“I suppose you two will be wanting something to eat,” Mrs Weasley said loudly, before Harry could ask any more questions.

“Yes, please, Molly.”

“Right. In which case, come along into the kitchen. You children can stay here.” There were loud protests from everyone, Harry loudest of all, but Mrs Weasley was adamant. “You can talk to Sirius when he's had something to eat. Now, stay here until then.”

Harry suspected Mrs Weasley wanted to talk to Sirius and Mr Weasley alone first.

For the next half hour, they all sat and waited – except for Percy, who announced he had a Charms essay to research, and disappeared off to his room. Ron and Ginny wanted to talk about what might happen now, but Harry kept quiet. He was too anxious to find out what had happened at the Ministry. Eventually the adults came through: a smiling Mr Weasley, a slightly tight lipped Mrs Weasley, and Sirius, who was looking even more tired, if that were possible.

“Well, Sirius will be staying with us for a day or two until things are finally sorted out,” said Mr Weasley. The twins gave a cheer. “But he does need some rest, and peace and quiet,” he added, looking at the two of them.

“Us?”

“Noisy?”

“Yes,” snapped Mrs Weasley. She was obviously not in a good mood.

Sirius caught Harry's eye, and jerked his head towards the door. Harry got up, conscious of the eyes of the others, and made his way out.

“Come into the kitchen,” said Sirius quietly.

They stood in the middle of the room, not quite looking at each other.

“Thanks for all you've done,” said Sirius, with a small smile. Harry gave an inarticulate half shrug. “Without you – well ...”

“What's happening now?” Harry asked, finding it slightly difficult to speak.

“Come on, let's sit down.” They each drew up a chair at the table. “First of all – as Arthur said, I'm out on what you might call probation. Arthur helped there - he said if I stayed here, he'd keep an eye on me.” Sirius gave another small smile.

“And after that?”

“Not sure yet. I need to think about that.” Another short pause. Sirius took a deep breath, then looked up at Harry. “By the way, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I've been putting it off, so to speak – until things were properly sorted. You see, when you were born – your mother and father asked me to be your godfather.”

It took a little while for that to sink in. Harry frowned. “My godfather?”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

Sirius picked up the salt cellar from the table and started examining it very closely.

“Well, in one sense, it means I could be your guardian – legally, that is.”

“What do you mean – in one sense?”

Sirius shrugged. “Well, your aunt and uncle are looking after you at the moment.”

Harry exploded. “They're not! I ran away – remember? And I'm never going back.”

“So where are you going to live, Harry? Here?”

“Dunno,” Harry mumbled. “I mean, the Weasleys are very good to me, but they're not – they're not family. You know what I mean.” Sirius nodded. “But – I mean – if you're my guardian, can't I live with you?”

Sirius rolled the salt cellar between his hands. “A couple of snags to that, Harry.”

“Oh?”

“The closest I've got to a home is Grimmauld Place, and it's not exactly the best of places for you.”

“We can tidy it up,” said Harry. “Make it liveable.”

He knew he was being more than a little optimistic there.

“Maybe,” said Sirius. “On the other hand, perhaps it's not entirely – appropriate – for a thirteen year old boy to be living with a man my age.”

“What?” Harry screwed up his face. “Do you mean – well, what I think you mean?” Sirius nodded. “But you're not like that – are you?”

“Doesn't matter, Harry. It's appearances that count.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing Mrs Weasley would say,” said Harry miserably.

“She did.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause, before Sirius spoke again.

“I also saw Dumbledore this afternoon.”

“Dumbledore?” asked Harry, surprised.

“That's right. He came down to the Ministry. We had a long talk about – well, all sorts of things.” Sirius paused. “Do you know why you were left with your aunt and uncle, Harry?”

“Well – I dunno. I suppose because I didn't have any other aunts or uncles or anything like that.”

“That's right,” said Sirius, finally putting the salt cellar down. “But there's more to it than that. You see, your Aunt Petunia is your closest surviving relative. And Dumbledore was worried about your safety. Still is.”

“In that case, why put me with Muggles?”

“Blood magic.”

“What?”

“Blood magic. You and Petunia are related by blood. Because of that, Dumbledore was able to put a load of protective wards around you and Privet Drive, to keep you safe. But you have to want to live there, and the Dursleys have to take you in of their own volition.”

“I don't want to live there, and the Dursleys don't want me living there.”

“Dumbledore has been to see the Dursleys to explain the situation.” Sirius carried on as if Harry had said nothing.

“You mean I have to go back there?”

Sirius looked at him for almost the first time. “For part of the year, yes.”

“How long is 'part of the year'?” Harry asked miserably.

“Well, you've been there long enough this summer. Dumbledore suggests a week each holidays.”

Harry thought about this. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Yet he remembered the sight of Voldemort sticking out of the back of Quirrell's head, and gave a little shudder. Voldemort was still out there, and who knows what plans he still had?

“Can I stay with you the rest of the time?” he asked in a small voice.

“Well, the Weasleys and I have talked it through. It's not ideal, but we came to a compromise that perhaps you could spend some time with me, and some time here. Mrs Weasley was against that idea – she said you needed a fixed base, so to speak, rather than being passed from pillar to post, and I must say I can see her point of view.”

Harry took a long shuddering breath. “What I'd like most – is Grimmauld Place. We make a good team, don't we?”

“Yes, Harry, we do. If only life were as simple as that.” The kitchen was silent for a minute or so. “Look, I'll leave you to think things over. You come through when you're ready. Okay?”

Harry nodded – his throat was too tight to say anything. Sirius stood up, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. “I'll always be there for you, you know that.”

“Yeah.” It was more of a croak than anything else.

Harry heard Sirius close the door behind him. After a few minutes, he stood up and walked over to the window. Outside, he could see the remnants of a magnificent sunset in the western sky. He stood there for some time, looking out as the sky darkened. Finally, he turned, and went back to join the others.

Sirius was describing to Fred and George how he had hitch hiked across the country as a dog. Obviously that secret was out now. Ron and Ginny looked up at him, curious. He gave them as best a smile as he could summon, went to sit down next to them, and began listening to Sirius' story.

THE END