Harry Potter and the Subtle Knife

Chapter Two

Taking the mug from Will, Harry shifted in his seat to make himself more comfortable. The other boy was plainly reluctant to tell his story; whatever that story was. But he knew all too well how difficult it could be to relate things to other people and so didn't press Will to begin even though they were still sat in silence several minutes later.

Instead the two boys sat in silence, Kirjava lolling casually on the back of this sofa, paws draped over the edge. Despite the two boys' edginess, she appeared to be the very epitome of relaxation.

Harry was draining the dregs from his now cold tea before Will spoke.

'I'm sorry Harry, it's just... Difficult, you know?' Harry nodded understandingly.

'Yeah, I do. You don't have to-'

'But I do,' Will interrupted him 'I need to tell someone. I'll go mad if I don't. Although... You may think that I already am when I've finished.'

In the silence that followed this rather ominous comment, Harry considered the number of times that he found himself recounting a difficult tale for someone else.

In fact, every year since he started at Hogwarts had included at least one little 'chat' with Dumbledore. Well, not chats exactly. More often than not, they were an epic retelling; where he'd finish his story with his throat sore, his brain wrung and the headmaster with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

The only time that twinkle had been missing - was the last time, after his most recent... Escapade. An escapade where Sirius died, he reminded himself fiercely. But the fact that even Dumbledore, the only person Voldemort feared, had lost the glint in his eyes after the events in the Ministry - that scared him. Even after Cedric, there had been that fleeting glimpse of triumph in the old headmaster's face, but when they had returned to Hogwarts, Harry couldn't recall anything. Nothing to give him hope, allow him to dare dream that maybe, just maybe, Voldemort wouldn't win. The practical side of his brain told him, you were emotional, how could you possibly notice anything like that? You'd just lost the closest thing to a father you'd ever had. It's me, he thought, it's my fault that Sirius is dead. It's my fault that Ron, Hermione and Ginny have to have security in the holidays as well now. It's because I'm a danger to those around me.

Part of him screamed in frustration, it's not your fault! It can't possibly be your fault! If anyone is to blame, then blame Voldemort. But still that other, traitorous part of him said, yes, yes it is my fault. Without me, Sirius would be here. Without me, so would Cedric. And if it hadn't been for me, my parents would still be alive. Deep down, he knew this wasn't really true. He knew that Voldemort would probably have gone after his parents eventually anyway, particularly if they were the bright young couple, so full of potential that everyone told him they had been. But if it weren't for him, if it weren't for that stupid prophecy, they might have had those few months, maybe even a few years, longer.

The prophecy. He had pushed it as far to the back of his mind as he could all summer, trying to ignore it and hoping that if he did so, it would go away. But now he had thought of it, and it refused to leave him alone. He got a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach every time he thought of it. If he, Harry Potter, failed, that would be it. But how could anyone expect him to defeat Voldemort, who was probably the most feared wizard in history? Stop, he told himself. There isn't anything you can do, He's not here, for the moment you have nothing to worry about. Unknowingly, he smiled wryly as he thought of 'Professor Moody's' catchphrase - CONSTANT VIGILENCE! He had a depressing feeling that it would be the mantra of his life until Voldemort was defeated. Or until he was. But, it was true; there was nothing he could do, with no magic, no-

'Harry!' Will's voice awoke him from his thoughts. 'Are you ok?'

'What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine.' He blinked, flustered. 'Sorry, what were you saying?'

'There's someone at the door. I won't be a minute.'

~

Will shot a concerned look towards his guest, before going out into the hallway to answer the front door. Harry had been completely out of it for a few minutes then - which was concerning in itself, but the look on the other boy's face had driven all thoughts of Will's own story out of his mind. He knew he'd been through some pretty dreadful things, but the expression that Harry had unconsciously had on his face had downright scared him. What, he wondered, could a sixteen year old have experienced that would leave him feeling like that. He had looked - terrified.

The doorbell rang again as Will approached it. Through the glass pane at the side of the door he could make out a figure, but the lack of light made it impossible to decipher who it could be. As far as he knew, the weren't expecting anyone; there had been a note on the fridge door to say that Mary and his mother wouldn't be back until later, so it couldn't be them. And it couldn't be any of his friends - he didn't have any.

He hesitated before opening the door, careful to wedge his foot behind it so that it could only open a crack. He was well aware that this neighbourhood wasn't the nicest around, and it wouldn't have been the first time the gangs from the park had come knocking.

When he did open the door, it was to reveal one of the strangest strangers that he had ever come across.

'Are you Will Parry?' the stranger asked.

~

Harry buried his head in his hands in mortification. How could he have drifted off so easily into that morbid reverie whilst a guest at someone else's home? His frequent attacks of conscience were bad enough when he was on his own without inflicting them upon others. Plus he didn't need Will knowing about his issues before they'd even known each other an hour; he was sure that there would be plenty of time for that later.

But would there be? Could he in all conscience allow Will and himself to become friends? They were well on their way to that already; yet the tiny, insidious voice in his head that insisted that Sirius, Cedric and his parents were dead because of him told him to run, run now before he got too close.

Escape while you're still indifferent. It was an old policy of his, used back in the years while he was still at school with Dudley. He would shun what few attempts at friendship were made towards him for fear of his cousins bullying. Perhaps it was time to reinstate that policy, to protect people. Don't associate with me, it's likely to get you put on a hit list.

There he went again, feeling sorry for himself. Harry wished, desperately, that he could stop, but he couldn't seem to lift the melancholy that had settled on him since the Department of Mysteries.

Maybe it would be better if he left now; he could get back to the car without the Dursleys even noticing that he'd gone anywhere, and Will... Will would be safe.

Yes, that would be better. Will seemed to have lost interest anyway, preoccupied with whoever was at the door.

Sighing, he stood up and placed his empty mug on a table next to the sofa, disturbing Kirjava as he did so. The cat opened one eye to watch him, unnerving Harry. It looked like he'd never find out what was going on here. He made a mental note to look Daemons up in the library at school; or at the very least get Hermione to look them up for him. It was frustrating leaving what he knew could develop into a good friendship, but Harry couldn't risk anyone else. It was bad enough that people like Ron and Hermione insisted on associating with him without bringing hapless muggles into the equation. Although... Kirjava certainly wasn't a normal animal. He didn't think Will was a wizard, but there was something...

No matter. If he hesitated now, his resolution would crumble. Face set, Harry strode in the direction of the hallway. Unnoticed by him, Kirjava leapt down from her perch and padded calmly after him.

As he neared the doorway, Harry heard a voice.

'Are you Will Parry? May I come in for a moment?'

Puzzled, he stepped into the hall.

'Pro-professor?'

~

Will was utterly confused. In fact, this entire night had been full of bewilderment. He still wasn't sure why he had invited Harry home; it certainly wasn't solely because of Kirjava's taunts. And now, another stranger had turned up on his doorstep, asking for him - and yet he seemed to know Harry quite well!

He had opened the door with his usual caution, to find a haggard looking man with what looked like a grey dressing gown on. And a rather tattered dressing gown at that. Despite his disreputable state of attire, the man seemed friendly enough. His hair, although long, was well kempt, and his exhausted face had a pleasant smile on it.

This was odd in itself, but the situation was made even more peculiar by the arrival of Harry on the scene. After a moment's disbelief, the other boy had run straight at the stranger and flung his arms around his neck. The older man, to Will's embarrassment, had tears in his eyes.

Unsure as to what to do, Will stood in the doorway of his house, the light from the hallway flooding the two figures on his doorstep with light.

~

He couldn't believe his eyes! Professor Lupin - sorry, Remus, here! Why, Harry didn't know, but he was determined to find out as soon as possible.

He was a little embarrassed about his reaction upon seeing his old professor; what must Will think of him? But he hadn't been able to help himself - he hadn't seen any of his friends since the end of term and despite frequent correspondence Harry was yet again feeling distinctly isolated from the wizarding world.

Releasing Lupin, Harry took a step back.
'What are you doing here?'

Unfortunately, Lupin had now overcome the shock of seeing his unofficial Godson in somewhere that wasn't Surrey. He ushered them inside, shutting the door

'No, Harry, the question is what on earth are you doing here? You should be safe at home. You have no idea who could be around and there is no protection for you here! Why have you left the Dursleys?' Harry was very indignant at this rebuke; despite the fact that it did look like he had run away from his relatives and that his past record was against him.

'I didn't! They-'

'No, you can explain later. For now, you'll have to stick with Mr Parry here.' briskly, Remus turned to Will, 'You are Will Parry, aren't you?' Will nodded warily.

'Read this,' he handed Will a piece of paper. 'Done? Good.' Taking the paper, he pulled out his wand, whispered, 'Incendio' and watched the paper slowly crinkle up and burn.

~

Will had no idea what just happened. With no explanation whatsoever, he had been given a slip of paper to read. '12 Grimmauld Place' - whatever that meant. Then, the stranger had produced - a wand? - and had promptly incinerated the paper.

'I'm Remus Lupin. I'm sorry, but we really don't have time for explanations now. Harry, you know what this is?' he held up an old fashioned key, 'Good. You have five minutes. Will, you need the knife.'

'What? How...'

'It doesn't matter how, but bring it. You can only bring what you can carry, and you must be carrying it. Your mother and Mary are safe. I have to go. They may be searching for me. I will see you at Headquarters.' He turned to Harry.

'Please, be careful. I don't want to lose... Be careful. You know how much you mean to me; to everyone. Be strong, Harry.'

With that, the man turned and walked out the door. Will could just make out a blurred shape through the glass as he practically ran down the street.

'Harry? What was that about?' Harry was looking at him with a shocked look on his face. Will's words seemed to galvanise him into action.

'I promise, I will tell you later. But for now, we're working to a schedule. Is there anything you'll need - don't worry about clothes, but anything else?'

'No, I don't think...'

'Good. Then you'll need the knife, whatever that is, and Kirjava. You'll have to carry her.'

'Why? I don't understand.' Harry's face was grim.

'Neither do I. But I'm expecting a lot of answers when we arrive. Go, find the knife.'

~

It felt awful, ordering his friend around like that. Particularly when said friend had absolutely no idea what was going on.

What was this mysterious knife that Will had been ordered to bring, Harry wondered. It must be important for Dumbledore to risk one of his operatives to come fetch it. Or was Remus sent for Will? Harry had no way of knowing until they arrived at Grimmauld Place. Speaking of which-

'Will! We've got two minutes! You need to be down here!' Will's head appeared at the top of the stairs.

'One second! I'm trying to find something to put it in,' A moment later, Will came rushing down the stairs with a battered old rucksack over his shoulder. Judging by the ink and correcting fluid that marred the fabric, it was his schoolbag. 'Ok, ready. Where do we go? I'm assuming that's the key for wherever it is?'

'Not... Exactly, no. You'll need to pick Kirjava up. If I've timed it right, we should have thirty seconds left. It's more of a metaphorical key. Here, grab this end.' Harry handed Will the key's handle. 'I'll take this end. Now, we wait.'

Thirty seconds later silence reigned in the now empty house.

~

Harry lurched forward. He really did hate portkeys with a passion. He staggered over to Will.

'You ok?'

The other boy looked dreadful. His face had gone a deathly pale, and he seemed to be trying not to retch.

'What the hell was that?' he spat.

'That, my friend, was magic. Come on, we'd better get inside.' Harry grabbed his hand and led Will to the doorway of an unremarkable terraced house. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

~

Still feeling a little dizzy after that - thing, Will stumbled after Harry through the front door of the house.

Inside it was dark and cool and despite it being a little musty Will felt a lot better. He let his eyes adjust to the gloom before taking in his surroundings. They were in a dark hallway of what might, at one point, have been quite a grand, decadent house. Now however, it was cold and uninviting despite obvious attempts to cheer it up, such as a large painting of a garden scene hung on one wall and a cheery rug spread over the cold flagstones.

'Harry? Where are we?'

He stepped into what might have been a sitting room at one point. Despite the uninhabited appearance of the place, the room was surprisingly clean and tidy, with just a thin film of dust coating everything. It was, however, empty.

'Harry?' the other boy was looking round hesitantly, as though expecting something to happen. 'What's up? You do know where we are, don't you?'

'Yes. Yes, of course. This is - was my godfather's house.'

'Was?'

'Yes. He... died, a few weeks ago.'

'I'm sorry-'

'Don't be. You didn't know him.' Will was shocked at the ferocity of this reply. 'I'm sorry Will. It's just... it was my fault. And I really, really miss him.' This statement was followed by a long silence, during which Harry gazed at a blank patch of wall unseeingly, and Will tried hard not to stare at his friend. How could it have been his fault? His earlier doubts were resurfacing, increasing with every moment of silence. What on earth did he think he was doing? He had no idea where he was - and neither did anyone else. Anything could-

'Come on. It's obvious that no one's here yet. We may as well sort out rooms. I reckon we'll be here a while.' Will was rather grateful for this suggestion; not only did it break the heavy silence, but Harry's calm voice shattered the doubt's he'd been having. After glancing round fruitlessly for a light switch, he trudged up the gloomy staircase after Harry.

~

Harry's mind was in turmoil. He hadn't been back here since Sirius...

Where's the Gryffindor in you, say it, damn you!

Since Sirius died. Somehow being in his house - you couldn't call it a home, it was more of a prison - made it so much more real, so much more painful. In his head, Harry was still expecting some exotic bird to fly through the nearest window with a message from his godfather; 'don't worry, see you soon!', or something equally uninformative.

The house was completely empty; that much had been obvious as soon as he had stepped through the front door. It looked as though nobody had been there since the beginning of the summer holidays; which was odd, as he didn't think the Order would be particularly willing to relinquish such a valuable asset. He added the questions this fact presented to the already long list he had prepared for as soon as he saw someone to ask them to.

'Harry?' With a start, Harry realised that he had almost walked into a bathroom; only Will's warning had prevented him from tripping over a discarded laundry basket next to the door. He frowned; he didn't think Mrs Weasley would have willingly left the place in such a mess. They must have left in a hurry.

'Sorry Will. Er... Well, this was mine and Ron's room - and that one was Hermione and Ginny's... So... Why don't you take that one? It's been empty for a while, as far as I know,' he gestured in the direction of one of the closed doors. 'I'm going to go see if there's any of my stuff in my room; I'll come help you make it habitable in a minute.' Will nodded in reply and left with Kirjava, leaving Harry standing in the dark hall alone.

Instead of going into his own room, Harry continued up the second set of stairs. He knew full well that there was a drawer full of old robes in his room, which would do at a pinch. Although he didn't know what Will was going to do for clothes; maybe he could borrow some of Ron's. He certainly wouldn't fit into anything that didn't even fit Harry anymore, who despite a growth spurt was hardly what you'd call tall.

~

Harry was startled out of his reminiscing by the sound of the front door opening. He suddenly noticed quite how cold he was, and how stiff his neck and back were from sitting slumped against a damp, mouldering wall for far longer than he should have. He had no idea how long he'd been up there; and he'd completely forgotten about Will.

He jumped up, wincing slightly when he realised that his left foot had gone dead, and went to the top of the stairs. He couldn't quite see the main hallway, and had to descend a few steps before he could make out the sea of redheads massing just inside the front door. One of the stairs creaked, and one of the people below turned to see what the noise was.

'Harry!'