The Summer of the Phoenix

Chapter 36

Sirius spent the rest of the evening in a state of complete apathy. It was as if the shock had drained him of all emotion. He felt numb, moving and speaking mechanically, playing the role of Sirius Black more or less convincingly while the real Sirius had gone elsewhere. He nodded absently, hardly listening, when Arthur Weasley's head popped back into the fire one last time, reporting that at least Harry's immediate expulsion from Hogwarts had been prevented.

At Lupin's urging, he even managed to scribble down a few lines for Harry, stringing the words together automatically, telling him the only thing that mattered now, to stay in the house whatever else he might do. He could think of nothing else to say. What did you say to someone who had just been attacked by Dementors?

The letter was tied to the leg of the patient owl that had been sitting in a cage on the dresser for the last few days, ready to carry news of Snape. She took off swiftly through the fireplace, and there was nothing left to do but wait for the morning, and Albus Dumbledore. Sirius nodded indifferently when Lupin suggested that a bit of sleep might do them both good now, and he didn't even register that on their way out of the kitchen, Lupin bent over something lying on the floor close to the door of Kreacher's cupboard, pointed his wand at it and muttered "Enervate".

"Good night, Padfoot," Lupin said quietly when they had arrived on the second landing, and Sirius opened the door to the study. "I'm afraid Alastor would insist that I lock you in there now," he added in a feeble attempt at joking.

"You do that," Sirius said tonelessly. "Good night."

It wasn't exactly a good night. Sirius slept very little, if at all. But as he lay awake, his thoughts were clearing, gradually and steadily. The numbness wore off, and at last, he was beginning to realise what he'd just heard, and what it meant. Harry had been attacked by Dementors. Why? Someone must have set them on him. Who? Had they slipped from the Ministry's control already, as Dumbledore had predicted? Who were they taking their orders from? Who was interested in silencing Harry? You know who is, Sirius told himself wryly. It was a pointless question. But their plan had failed, and Harry had proved that he was very well able to look after himself. And still, Minerva McGonagall had insisted that Harry had to be removed from his Muggle family's house. We must remove him to a safer place as soon as we can, she had said, and Sirius felt a warm wave sweep over him as he remembered her words. What safer place was there in the wizarding world than No. 12, Grimmauld Place? There was no other answer, this was what was going to happen, Harry would come to Grimmauld Place, and as soon as the Order could bring him here. It suddenly seemed very irrelevant whether Harry would be expelled from Hogwarts or not. It didn't even matter that it had taken a Dementor attack for this to happen. Harry was finally coming to stay with Sirius, and that was all that mattered. It was his last thought before, towards dawn, Sirius finally fell into an exhausted sleep, and three figures, a stag, a wolf and a big black dog, bounded through his dreams, romping about together on green land, leaping for joy.

* * *

By breakfast on the next morning, No. 12, Grimmauld Place was buzzing with the news of the attack on Harry. The kitchen was already full of people when Sirius arrived, and there was a tension in the air as if the room was live with an electric current. Sirius had heard them talking as he came downstairs, but the moment he entered the room, they all fell silent. It was instantly clear that the whole house knew not only about the attack itself and all the possible consequences, but also, no matter whether they had been there or not, about the scene in the kitchen the night before.

Mr Weasley greeted him with a whispered "Good morning", and Mrs Weasley with a sad smile. Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt were avoiding his eyes, appreciating his arrival only with short nods, both of them frowning over a map of the South-East of England they had spread out on the table. The Weasley children and Hermione, very quiet today, kept giving Sirius and then each other shy looks from their own end of the table. Alastor Moody was ignoring him completely. Not that Moody would have needed to say anything to make it clear to everyone what he thought of people losing their heads in moments of crisis, Sirius realised bitterly. For all Moody's stony silence, his own discoloured cheekbone must speak all the more eloquently.

Suit yourselves, Sirius thought grimly as he sat down at the table and helped himself to tea. Maybe this idiot can't pull himself together, but he's certainly not going to give you the chance to rub it in. Inwardly, Sirius gave them all a big shrug, shaking off their furtive looks at his face and their awkward silence. What had happened had happened - but Harry was safe, and Harry was going to come to Grimmauld Place. That was all that mattered. Lupin might have understood, but Lupin wasn't there.

"Look," Hermione said quietly when the silence became unbearable, and pushed a small piece of parchment across the table towards him. "This came with Hedwig last night. Ron and I got the same."

Sirius picked it up. I've just been attacked by Dementors, and I might be expelled from Hogwarts, it read in Harry's writing. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here. So Harry had even been able to write letters last night, and angry letters, too. That was a good sign. Anger was the best proof that you were still alive. Anger was what had kept Sirius alive for twelve long years in Azkaban.

"But we still can't tell him, can we?" Hermione asked.

"No," said Sirius, and pushed the parchment back at her. "We can't."

"But Harry is going to come here, isn't he?"

"Yes," said a grave voice behind them. Albus Dumbledore had finally arrived at No. 12, Grimmauld Place, and he was in a dark fury. He came sweeping into the kitchen, a worried looking Remus Lupin and a very subdued Mundungus Fletcher following in his wake, and ordered the young Weasleys out of the room with a wave of his hand, not even wishing them a good morning. There was no patient smile on his ancient face today, no benevolent twinkle behind his half-moon glasses. They jumped up from their seats, hastening to obey, knowing that this was not the time to argue.

"So," Dumbledore said, sitting down at the table in Ron's place. "What's this?" He picked up Harry's letter that Hermione had left there and glanced over it with a frown. "Exactly the right questions," he said curtly. "We'll start with the second. Now that the Order of the Phoenix has shown itself unable to ensure Harry's personal safety at his family's place - " he gave Mundungus Fletcher a very stern look "- I see no other possibility but to remove him from there, and bring him to stay here at Headquarters."

It was all Sirius had wanted to hear. He leant back and listened quietly to the conference that followed. The necessity of Harry's removal from Little Whinging had quickly been agreed on, but it took them a while to decide on the best choice of transport, discussing Floo powder ("too risky," said Moody), Muggle travel ("too slow"), unauthorised Portkeys ("are you mad?"), and brooms.

"What about Buckbeak?" Sirius suggested. "He could do with a bit of exercise."

"Impossible," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "The Hippogriff is just one place below you on top of the Ministry's wanted list, Sirius. They'll be looking out for him."

"I thought we were in Tibet?"

Mundungus Fletcher looked up interestedly. "Wotcha doin' in Tibet, mate?" he asked.

"Meditating on the balance of light and darkness," Sirius replied gravely. "Fascinating concept."

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat irritably.

"I think brooms really are the best option," said Lupin practically. "Harry's a great flier. And with an escort -"

"I'm not going to help wipe anyone off the ground," Moody grumbled.

"Have you got a better idea, Alastor?" Albus Dumbledore asked impatiently.

"No."

"Who is going to be in the escort then?" asked Minerva McGonagall. "I suppose we will need at least six people?"

"I'll go," Lupin offered immediately.

"Me too," said Kingsley, "and Tonks will probably want to come as well."

"Yes, she does," Lupin confirmed innocently, apparently oblivious of the more than one surprised sideways glance this comment earned him.

"That makes only four," Moody pointed out.

There was a pause, and Sirius realised that they were all looking uneasily at him now. "Oh, right," he said. "You're waiting for me to beg you to let me leave the house. Sorry to disappoint you. I haven't been on a broom for fourteen years, I'd better just stay here and keep the butterbeer cold until you're back."

None of them had the grace to smile. Lupin gave him a very unhappy look, and Sirius resisted the urge to pull a face at him.

"Then we'll have to find a few more volunteers," Dumbledore concluded. "We'd better send out some owls straight away. That's all for the moment."

"What about Harry's first question?" Sirius asked. "Do we know what's been going on?"

"No," Dumbledore said curtly.

"But someone must have ordered them to Little Whinging," Moody growled.

"Of course someone must."

"You don't fear that they might be slipping away from Ministry control?"

"It doesn't matter what I fear, Alastor," Dumbledore said rather sharply. "What matters is what happened, and we simply don't know."

"What worries me most," Minerva McGonagall said tensely, "is how they, whoever they are, knew that Harry was unprotected at that particular time."

"Unprotected?" Sirius asked quickly.

"That's mere speculation, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "And I at least have no time for that right now. I must be on my way." He rose from his seat. "Sirius, if you'd just, for a quick word -" With a gesture of his hand, he invited Sirius to join him on his way out, and Sirius had no choice but to get up and follow Dumbledore out of the kitchen.

"What did Minerva mean, unprotected?" he asked as soon as the door had closed behind them.

"That the Order has failed to prevent last night's attack," Dumbledore said evasively. "Listen, Sirius, when Harry is here - if he tells you of any other odd things he's experienced lately... I must know about it."

"What other odd things?" Sirius asked, slightly irritated at Dumbledore's vagueness.

"Dreams, for example. Or his scar hurting, things like that."

Sirius glanced sideways at Dumbledore. They had arrived in the hall, and he could see the other's ancient face in the gloomy light, lined with worry. "Are you expecting anything of that sort?" he asked, suddenly uneasy. "Why, what would it mean?"

"I'm not sure yet," Dumbledore said gravely. "But I know it would be very important that I hear of it. You will tell me, won't you?"

"Why don't you ask Harry yourself?" Sirius asked back unwillingly. He didn't like the idea of being part of anyone's strategy of keeping Harry in the dark that something odd might be happening with him.

"I won't be here very often," Dumbledore said, as if that answered the question. "In the meantime, take good care of Harry while he's here," he added, opening the front door, "and take good care of yourself as well." And with that, he was gone.

"You don't think I can do either of that, do you?" said Sirius bitterly to the closed door.

"Well, I do," Remus Lupin said behind him, coming up from the kitchen stairs. "And the best way to take care of Harry now is to help me write a few messages asking for volunteers for the escort. I'm just going to get quills and parchment." He turned to continue upstairs to his room, but he didn't get far. As soon as he had set foot on the lowest step, the little group of the young Weasleys and Hermione, who must have been lying in wait on the landing above, came running down to meet the two friends.

"Are you really bringing Harry here?" Ron, who was in front, asked breathlessly.

Lupin stopped short before they could knock him over. "Yes, of course we are," he said. He smiled at their expectant faces, and Sirius acknowledged that his friend bore both the visible and the invisible marks of last night's events with so much more grace than he did.

"Right now?" Hermione asked equally urgently.

"No, we can't rush things," Lupin explained patiently. "We'll have to make sure the journey's safe. He'll be here around the day after tomorrow, I think. And now excuse me, he'll be here the quicker the sooner you let us make the arrangements for his journey." He made to walk past them, and they drew aside to let him pass, when suddenly, the sound of furious shouting came up from the kitchen. They couldn't hear the words through the closed doors, but it was immediately clear that it was Mrs Weasley calling all the fires of hell down on someone's head. Lupin turned back towards Sirius, the expression on his face a strange mix of guilt and apprehension that Sirius didn't understand at all.

"Blimey," Fred grinned. "You wouldn't want to be in his shoes now, would you?"

"In whose shoes?" Sirius asked sharply.

Fred suddenly went very red. None of them made a move to answer the question. But the shouting in the kitchen did not abate.

"Is anyone going to answer any of my questions today?" Sirius asked irritably.

"You - you didn't know?" Hermione said timidly.

"Know what?"

Lupin took a few steps back towards his friend. "Promise you won't - " he began.

"What, break down and cry?" Sirius snapped at him. "No. What didn't I know?"

Lupin opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by a loud bang echoing up from the kitchen, followed by a clattering sound, as if a heavy object had been thrown at the door downstairs. The door burst open, and they could clearly hear Mrs Weasley's voice now. "...the most unreliable, irresponsible, useless, hopeless scoundrel I've ever met! Business opportunities! HA! How Dumbledore ever allowed you in the Order! You're a disgrace! A DISGRACE! Now get out of my sight, you dirty rogue, get out of this house, GET OUT!"

There was another sound much like the first, this time accompanied by a loud wail of pain and protest, then they heard footsteps coming up the stairs in a flying haste, and a moment later, Mundungus Fletcher came hurtling through the hall, very red in the face, clutching the side of his head. He ran straight past the stairs to the door, wrenched it open, and fled from the house.

Sirius looked at his companions with raised eyebrows. "What was that?"

"That was Molly telling Mundungus what she thinks of him leaving his guard duty just before Harry was attacked last night," Lupin said resignedly. "Now promise you won't run right after him and wring his neck."

Sirius contemplated the idea for a moment. "No, I won't bother," he said then, almost amusedly. "I think Molly has made my point. Or at least one of her frying pans has. I can't think of anything more substantial to add to that, really."