The Winter Glass

Chapter Two: Cardinal Direction

Harry was awake before I was. "The puppy. I think he has to go out." He shook me by the shoulder and I pulled the covers tighter. The room was cold enough to turn his breath into a cloud. "He keeps sitting down. Can't I take him out?"

Out. Where someone might see him. Where someone might remember him. "No. I'll do it. You have to stay inside."

"Why?" Harry's question was blunt and belligerent.

"You...you don't have any warm clothes," I said. Neither did I, and it was only a matter of time before this excuse would fail me. I dressed quickly and took the dog down to the street so that it could relieve itself on a scraggly tree that grew near the corner. I hoped it would make it through the day shut in our room with Harry. I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of this problem before, and resigned myself to the possibility of needing to scrub the floor every night.

After making matchsticks of the old trunk, I visited the blind woman who lived in the room near the foot of the stairs. She had rented us our room based on the feel of gold between her teeth. Today, she sent up a wooden tub and a parade of disinterested children (rented off the street for halfpennies of their own) with pails of hot water. When the tub was filled I found a sliver of soap in my kit and convinced Harry to take a bath. I ended up scrubbing his hair for him and sending him to the fire to drip-dry; we hadn't any towels. My own bath done, I let the puppy take a swim in the tepid water while I shaved. It was only fair that all the men of the house have their turns to bathe.

Before I knew it, it was time for me to be off to Dumbledore's. "Will you be all right?" I asked Harry.

"Yes." Harry rubbed the puppy's stomach. "I'll be all right here. I won't let anyone in. I promise." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Can't I go with you?"

"No. Don't leave this room. You can't let anyone see you." I knelt down beside him. I wanted to reassure him, somehow. I ended up patting him on the head. "You'll be safer here. If someone sees you, anything could happen. They might try to hurt you. Or me." It was an awful excuse.

Harry nodded, looking at the floor. I hated turning his fears back upon him, but I had no way of knowing if our lives depended on it.

As before, I was loath to lock Harry in our room. This time I left him a low fire to last until I returned, and the remains of our loaf. He wouldn't be cold or hungry today if I could help it. Still, the turn of the key in the lock sounded final and horrible.

On my way through the town I made discreet purchases at the poorest shops, leaving a bit more than was necessary to ensure that my orders would be completed quickly and quietly. If I had learned nothing else in the last few days, I had learned that the smallest kindness could inspire the greatest loyalty. Soon, we'd have new clothes and perhaps new identities.

With this hope I wended my way down narrow streets that widened into lanes. Daylight filtered down between the houses, and small gardens could be seen behind a few. Surely I hadn't come this far last night--I didn't remember passing a hollow at the edge of town, where fields and brush stretched toward forested hills and there was room for trees to grow along the road.

Just as I decided that I was lost completely I noticed a path leading off from the main road. I walked a few steps along it, curious, to where it ended abruptly at a thick hedge. Where did this path lead? Where had it led?

I reached out carefully toward the branches when they parted before me as if by magic and Dumbledore's face appeared, white beard caught on a bramble. He beckoned me in with a look of amusement, and I followed him through the hedge to a small garden that surrounded an even smaller, tumbledown cottage. By daylight the whole was unforgettably ramshackle.

I'm not entirely certain what I was expecting there. I knew how to curry horses in the blink of an eye. I could make a young girl blush at twenty paces and I could persuade an old woman to billet the grimiest soldier in her home with a smile. I could train green boys to be hardened soldiers. Yet, I was certain that Dumbledore did not need my skills in these areas.

I can say that I assumed that I was be put to some sort of manual labor. I was strong enough for that. It was obvious that everything from the roof to the shutters needed repair, and the garden alone was at least a season's work. So, it was with some surprise that I followed Dumbledore inside. "This way," he said as he motioned me past the kitchen that I remembered from the night before and into a second room.

I've never seen anything so amazing since. The room was round, with a high, frescoed ceiling; it must have been some trick of the windows that made it seem so large. My memory must be faulty because I remember it being far greater than the cottage itself could have been. Perhaps the grandeur still has me in awe. The walls were lined with dusty books, and strange tools littered the shelves and tables. A bust of a man with windblown hair frowned malevolently. A dozen portraits of distinguished men and women hung behind a massive desk.

Dumbledore motioned me to sit before taking a carved rocking chair for himself. "The quill, if you please," he said, "and let us begin." I looked around at the desk and spotted several fine feathers. With no clear idea of what he meant, I picked up the one I liked best and handed it to Dumbledore.

He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and I realized what he had meant for me to do at the same moment he realized I couldn't. I looked at the desk. The rolls of parchment. The ink. I waited for the laughter.

James had had a secretary even before I was fostered with his family, a boy our own age who was too often ill for combat. In fact, he hadn't accompanied us on the last round of political visits due to a bout of sickness. James always wanted the messengers to remember the most important news anyway; it was safer when nothing was written down.

"I never--I didn't ever need--" I started dispiritedly, feeling that I owed Dumbledore some explanation. I was disappointed in myself and my lot. Mentally, I calculated what was left of my advance and how far Harry and I could run on the funds.

Doubt has ever been my weakness. I have never known a man so patient as Dumbledore. He didn't patronize me. He didn't criticize or treat me as a child, though I'm sure he must have thought little enough of me at the time.

"This is an 'a,'" Dumbledore said, picking up the quill and coming to lean over my shoulder. He wrote the letter carefully and gave me the task of copying it over. That afternoon I shakily replicated the entire alphabet under his careful supervision. First I wrote each letter alone, then I wrote them in their order, over and over and over.

By the time Dumbledore released me I was as tired as if I had been digging ditches all day. I dragged myself back through town, keeping to the shadows. The fewer people who knew my face, the better.

When I returned to Harry I discovered that he was not alone. The Ginny girl was there again and she and Harry huddled together on the floor with the puppy between them, whispering together and petting it while it slept. "I think I heard your mother calling for you," I said. It was petty, I know, but I wanted a quiet evening alone with Harry. With a last glance at the dog and a half-smile for Harry, Ginny was out the window.

Harry pulled the stool up to the table as I found a pair of bowls and filled them from the pot of stew I'd bought on the way home. "Ginny took the puppy outside for me so he wouldn't make a mess on the floor. We're going to name him. Ginny's going to think about it. She's good at names and she says she'll help me. Did you know she'll be five soon?" I was spared a reply as Harry chattered on uncharacteristically. "Do you think the puppy likes stew?"

"I'm sure the puppy likes stew," I answered, pouring some onto a plate and setting it on the floor where the puppy could lap it.

Harry fell silent as he attacked his meal. I followed his lead; in those first days I wondered if I would ever lose that gnawing hunger that lingered after our cross-country flight.

When our dishes were scraped clean I pushed the rocking chair back and gathered my wits about me. It was time to speak to Harry about his parents. I knew I shouldn't put it aside any longer, though my reservations were strong. Perhaps it would be better tomorrow, easier tomorrow. For both of us.

Sliding the table aside I moved the rocking chair closer to the fire and, before I could lose my nerve, I swept Harry up in one arm and the puppy in the other. Harry looked slightly surprised to be in my lap again, but he was quickly distracted when I placed the puppy in his. "Let's sit here for a bit," I said. If I had known then how little time we would have to sit, to talk, to be at peace, I might never have left that chair. Much as we had the night before, we rocked and watched the fire burn and the frost swirl across the windowpanes while the puppy snuffled softly in its sleep.

I thought that perhaps Harry would be lulled to sleep as well. When a good hour had passed and he was as awake as ever, I lifted him down to the floor and knelt before the fire. On a whim I gathered a handful of ashes from the edge of the hearth and scattered them onto the floor.

Painstakingly, I traced a shape in the ashes. "Do you know what this is?"

"An a," Harry said quickly. My heart sank. Even Harry knew more than I did. What use was I to him? I was a miserable soldier and I would make a miserable guardian. "Do another."

Harry was busy looking at the ashes, curiosity etched on his features. He thought I was playing a game. I smoothed over the lines and began again.

"A b," Harry exclaimed, excited. "I started letters last year, but when we went on the visits..." He paused, twisting his hands. "Everyone was too busy."

"I'm not too busy," I said. "I have all the time in the world."

I thought I did.

We took turns making the alphabet in the dust, Harry explaining each letter as he went along. "This is a 't.' T-t-t. It makes a sound like at the start of toad. It's made of straight lines, and I think it's easy to write."

"I like it as well."

"Make a number now," he demanded.

I obliged. This I knew better, and we added and subtracted, counting on sooty fingers until Harry's eyes drooped with exhaustion. Finally, I took out my handkerchief, only slightly cleaner than we were at that point, and swabbed our hands.

Without a word I turned down our beds. I was more than ready for a good night's sleep. Harry wasn't, though. He had climbed back into the rocking chair with the puppy and was using all of his strength to make the chair sway back and forth so hard it nearly turned over.

"It's time to go to bed, Harry," I tried first. "Come, now."

Harry didn't stop. "I'm not tired."

I felt like sand lined the inside of my eyelids. "It's time. Come to bed."

"No."

I was really too exhausted to argue with him. I've been told since that a tired child will eventually fall asleep on their own, but I was sure that Harry was probably overdue for his share of forty winks and that he should be in bed whether he liked it or not. "To bed. Now."

Just then, the puppy woke up with a whine. It jumped to the floor and I recognized the wiggle in its walk that announced the necessity of a trip outside.

"When I get back, I want to see you in bed." I picked up the dog and headed for the door, deciding that I'd think of a consequence while outside.

"Don't go," Harry exclaimed suddenly. "Don't leave me here--here--in the dark." He sprang from the chair and clung to my waist. "Don't go," he sobbed brokenly. "Dark."

Harry won out over the dog. He always did. I crouched down and held him as tightly as I dared while he cried as if his heart broke. Mine certainly was broken at the time. Not even a week had passed and it felt like I had been mourning his father forever. Love was a lie. It wasn't stronger than death, like the old stories said, or James and Lily would have lived to be a hundred years old. My love for them didn't save them. My training as a soldier didn't save them, and in my heart I knew that knowledge wouldn't have saved them either. What point was there in learning anything if everything was worthless? I cried with him in shame, hoping selfishly that he would be too distracted to notice my tears.

If he did, he never said anything about it.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I picked up Harry, whose sobs were now sniffles, and the still-anxious puppy. "Shall we go out?"

"Really?" he asked, eyes widening. "Outside?"

"Yes. Outside." I looked closely at Harry. "It will be dark out there too."

Harry considered this before nodding his assent. "But it won't be small."

It was cold, though not severely so. We followed the puppy as it scampered ahead of us through the still streets. There was no moon out, but the stars were thick above and gave light to our path. At the juncture of two streets there was a small plaza with enough space between the buildings to see a decent bit of sky.

"The sky is made of d-d-diamonds." Harry's teeth were chattering. I wished that the pup would finish its business so I could take them both back inside.

"And other things, too. In the spring, you'll be able to see Leo, the lion, like the one on your family's crest. There are all sorts of pictures in the stars and stories to go along with." I suddenly, fervently hoped that Harry would not ask me to tell any, because I couldn't remember a single one. "The only star you really need to know is that bright one, right there."

I knelt and pointed into the sky. Harry came to my shoulder and followed the line of my arm, squinting and shivering. "The one by the cup?"

"Yes. That's Polaris, the North Star. If you can see it, you will always be able to find your way."

"But what if I don't want to go north?"

I bit back a smile. "Then turn around and go south. You can choose where to go. There are three other cardinal directions, after all."

Harry looked slightly confused at these words, but recognized that I was in good humor and plowed ahead. "I'll choose. I'll be a knight and slay monsters, and then bring home mountains of diamonds!"

"And carry back the beautiful maidens, I suppose?"

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Ew."

"Trust me, Harry, you'll change your mind about that someday." I tried to picture Harry tall and strong like his father. The image wouldn't come.

Finally, the cobblestones wet with the puppy's enthusiasm, we headed for home. The walk back was not so leisurely. Harry and I were used to warmer climates and our bodies had not adjusted to the chill. With the promise of a toasty room and a good night's sleep I began to jog ahead. "Come on, Harry."

"Coming." He was wilting, half-asleep from cold and exhaustion. I grabbed his arm and swung him around, piggy-back, and trotted along with the puppy at my heels.

I'd left our door ajar by accident and our room wasn't as warm as I would have liked it to be. Using stiff fingers I peeled off Harry's clothes and rolled him beneath the covers. With any luck, he'd stay there. Before I'd undressed myself his breathing was slow and deep, and he slept.

A few minutes of shivering and an extra log on the fire eventually had my sheets warm and my body limp. Contrary to the old saying, one doesn't need to have an empty stomach to have a full head. Every bone in my body ached for sleep but my mind was running wild. Would I be able to juggle working and Harry's safety? Were palace guards hunting me down as a traitor to be shot on sight? Could I be mother and father to a child who had so recently lost his own?

Waiting for sleep was futile. I could sleep when I was dead.

Kicking back the sheets, I got up and moved to the fire. A handful of ashes was all that I needed. I scattered them across the floor. To become an adult, I would have to begin again as a child.

A, B, C...